Life under the tutelage of the moone boy has been incredible. I wish I could describe my powers to you, describe the feeling I get when I exult in my mastery of the clouds, but it would be like describing interstellar travel to an offended turtle.

In short time, my hair turned shock white and my face cracked and shriveled until I resembled an eternal youngling crone of the Elder Times. The boy outfitted me with loose slacks (“Just the thing fer divin’ and gallivantin’ about this here nightscape,” he said with pride). Then he handed me my most prized possession, which I love more than any remnant of my Earth past: My Whapping Cane.

Sickle-shaped and forged from the wood of the Wise Tree, my Whapping Cane propels me to greater heights in the starlit ink than ever before. I careen down the gentle slope of the mooncrescent, launch myself from the tip with a tender flex of my immortal calves, and whap the stars to my heart’s content.

The boy provides. He trowels the Great Sea below with his fishin’ stick, dredging up fine bushels of fresh fish, and it is good. At the moon’s dawn, he tells me stories of the Ancient Ways that leave me simply enraptured, our legs dangling free off the edge of the sweet crescent, tendrils of cool clouds twirling between our toes.

“I been thinking,” said the boy, between fables.

“What about?” I spoke. There was no misplaced fear of the boy in my voice now. Only admiration.

“’Bout your silly names. Heckfire, that’s a story all by its lonesome! You sure picked out some funny ones. Chumsy, Kevin, Morpheus…”

“I was never explicitly Morpheus, Moon Boy. I merely dressed up like one to perhaps trick you.”

“Don’t ever correct me again, Brian. Sure as you’re born, I’ll cast you to the Great Sea and never let you back to the glory of the Starclouds.”

“Of course, boy,” I said, immediately praying for forgiveness 7 times.

An hour-long silence passed. I was sure this was the end for me. The water waited below, hungry to introduce me to the fish. I had angered my tutor. Then he spoke again:

“I should like to give you a new name. That’d be fittin’, what with all the changin’ I did to your face and your mortal soul.”

“It’s true, boy. You remade me into a screamdemon of the Night Above, and relinquished unto me a most generous gift in the Whapping Cane.”

“Your new name is…”

He paused, thinking. In his glowing white eyes, I could see our shared memories rushing by. Greeting me for the first time at The Peacemaker. Marveling at the green sea below for The Ring. Allowing me to devour my own tongue after The Cat in the Hat. Parting me from my lowly Earth friends with the advent of the infamous Shrek 2. And graciously bestowing freedom and companionship at a private government screening of How to Train Your Dragon. All rushed by the boy, I could tell this much.

“Your name’ll be my name.”

“Boy, I do not understand your works. Please elaborate.”

“I’m dog tired of this plane of existence, Brian. I know there’s another just around the corner. Ain’t no fish, ain’t no sea. There, you ain’t got a mooncrook to nestle in, no cloudwisps to feather yer hair.”

“I cannot conceive of it.”

“And that’s why you can’t ever come, neither.”

With a wave of his hand, my beloved Whapping Cane croaked and unbent itself. From the heavens, a willowy wire came snaking down until it threaded itself through the new loops that sprouted along the bottom of my freshly-straightened stick. It had become a fishing rod before mine eyes.

“You’re a hard one to get to know, Brian. I figured once I showed you the ropes in here, you an’ I would be regular pals.”

“Are we not, boy? Can I not yet be your shoulder goblin still?”

“See, that kinda talk right there. ‘swhat I’m getting at. Clambering up here into my moonscape didn’t teach you nothin’ about relaxin’. Lettin’ all that time pass you by. You just wanted me to teach you things, show you more mind-bogglin’ powers. Patience is a virtue you most certainly do not possess. And I think that’s all I have left to give you.”

My mind realized this was goodbye, but my lips could not yet let go. Even as I spoke, pleading with the boy to reconsider or take me with him, I knew I was merely proving his point. I had to love myself, and I could not do that so long as a Being of Pure Celestial Glory was in my presence.

He showed me how to draw the line, cast the lure, coerce the slippery fishes, and scale and cook them for a fine supper. Then, he began to glint away in the pinholes of the starlight.

“Wait, boy! You didn’t give me your name! I am to have your name, am I not? Please, tell me!”

He smiled. It would be the last time I ever saw him. The last time I ever heard him.

“Goodbye…Brian.”

He was gone. I tell you, my tears could have filled the Great Sea on their own, that terrible moonday.

The Croods (2013)

Time done passed up here in my dusty satellite.

I sure as heck see what Brian meant now. The boy. You know, I always figured he was just tellin’ me goodbye, when he said my name and up and went. Naturally, he was sayin’ goodbye too. But with all this thinkin’ I’ve been cookin’ up in my mind kitchen, I see that I’ve always been the boy, and he’s always been me. Callin’ me Brian was callin’ him Brian. Ain’t no difference.

Givin’ me his name was just passin’ the knowledge along. And now I got the smarts to see it all — but no one to share it.

That’s okay, too. You ain’t never lonely if you’re yer own best pal. I watched a thousand lifetimes come slippin’ in and out up here on this screen. Sometimes it’s The Croods, other times it’s Peabody & Sherman. Sometimes it’s every dang thing all at once. Ain’t no limit to how many people come amblin’ into these picture shows, watchin’ me fish up here in the clouds. I wondered if I’d ever find a suitable pupil to hand off this fishin’ stick to. But it didn’t bother me none neither.

I look up into the stars sometime and wonder if the boy is peepin’ at me ever. Hope I do him proud. I hope wherever he lays his hat now, he thinks of me and smiles. I wonder if where he is, there are hats. Maybe not even.

I was fishin’ through time and reality for so long, I forgot where I was. Didn’t even snap myself out of it till I noticed the fish weren’t takin’ the bait on my hook. That really got my goose good. The curtains done split open for another picture show — The Peacemaker, I think they called it.

Without thinking, I blurted out to myself, “Dagnabbit Brian, these fish just ain’t bitin’.”

I heard someone screamin’ from inside the audience like you wouldn’t believe.