I don't care much for my life before our meeting. Suffice it to say I was one of the fellows...just chilling, waiting for what we knew not to happen but convinced it would be dope.
Well, that day, this man whose dressing and speech suggested he was a shepherd of African descent came along. At close range, his features were not in agreement with those of that race. Maybe, he was a half-caste.
He looked at all of us, lingered when he got to my buddy, then chose me. This would do, he said. It was the most cryptic, deal-closer I'd ever heard. Later, I would find out he was a stammerer and not given to words.
We worked together for years.
All was well until the day we were grazing sheep at the foot of a mountain. Next thing you know, somewhere to the side is the strangest bush fire ever. The rate of spread was not in the proportion of the brightness of the glow.
He decided to go see. Of course, I went along.
As we approached, someone began to speak with my master. First, I was curious. I mean, I could hear a voice but I saw no one. But the conversation lingered; I shifted my attention to other things.
And then I heard,
“What is that in your hand?”
“A staff.”
“Throw it on the ground.”
My master threw me on the ground and I turned into a snake.
My scream of surprise came out as a hiss. My master ran away.
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