This is the story of how the unhappy hamlet of muskmelon moons found happiness again.
Once a monkey-faced mandolin man came to the hamlet of muskmelon moons. He stood at the piazza plucking his strings; watching a sea of sad, sullen and scared faces scurry by.
“What makes you so midnight maroon with melancholy?” he asked them. “Look! Yonder shines the yellow moon like a canary cantaloupe in the clouds!”
And everyone gave him the same answer. “When the moon glows with markings like a muskmelon, then the night is ripe for mysterious things to happen!”
“But what makes you woody woeful and wooly worried?” asked the monkey-faced mandolin man.
“We folk of the hamlet of muskmelon moons are lovers of logic. Mystery is misery to our marigold minds,” replied everyone together.
“Oh!” said the monkey-faced mandolin man and fell into deep thought. When the tempting time for sleep came tramping by, he declined to close his eyes. The coconut clock tick-tocked and turned. The simple seconds spun into medium minutes which promptly became hoary hours. But still, he refused and repulsed the sorceress of slumber.
Up and down the streets, he strolled. To and fro the alleys and byways, he marched. And round and round the piazza, he plodded. But the monkey-faced mandolin man found no solace.
Until he glanced at the sky and spotted the muskmelon moon. The lambent lunar light was like a liquid melody pouring from the heavens. At once, he began to strum on his mandolin and out of his howling hibiscus heart surged forth a song. And the streets of the hamlet of muskmelon moons sounded with a delightful ditty like never before.
The hours flew by in a flash, and the cantaloupe moon gave way to the honeydew sun. The potato and pear people passed by the monkey-faced mandolin man. But he no longer saw pale, pitiful and panicked faces. Everyone was smiling, spunky, and satisfied.
“Good day, folks! How fresh you look this morning! Like a newly cut ruddy watermelon with its billion black seeds twinkling like burning balls!”
Everyone laughed and rejoiced at the monkey-faced mandolin man’s words. And all sang together the song they had heard yesternight.
“If you are sad,
Time stops dead;
But when you are happy,
Time speeds by.
So whether it’s rain or shine,
Don’t you dare whine,
But let joy be thine.
For the muskmelon moon
Will be over too soon,
If only sometimes logic
Is replaced by some magic!”
Then the monkey-faced mandolin man picked up his mandolin once more and plucked the strings.
“Remember my song
And you won’t go wrong.
Now I will leave you here
But always keep my song near.”
So saying the monkey-faced mandolin man walked away. And the fading strains from his mandolin filled the marigold minds of men and women with a little mulberry magic.
From then onward, there were never again seen sad, sullen and scared faces on the streets of the hamlet of muskmelon moons.
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