When last we met: “This is history in the making, folks,” said the weather person, who looked excited and frightened simultaneously. “The hurricane appears to have launched itself into the mesosphere, about 60 miles high, from a spot in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. It’s on a high arc and on a course that seems targeted to land on Northeast Wisconsin from above. It’s still due to make landfall — maybe we should call that skyfall — about 20 miles north of Green Bay, Wisconsin, on Halloween morning. Some scientists are calling it a byproduct of climate change, but I have to say, I don’t know what to call it. This is simply unprecedented.”

It was late in the afternoon before Halloween.

Blurg and her 16 fellow [unpronounceable] wizards and wizardesses stood in the field outside our backyard fence — in part because our field generals had insisted that I continue to neglect my backyard pickup duties until after Halloween.

“I’ve never seen a worblatt repellent as effective as what your dogs produce naturally,” said Seth the Dragon.

This did not disturb Dejah a great deal, but Summer insisted on submitting to a leash and doing her business in the front yard near the road.

“I hope this whole experience teaches you better habits,” Summer said one morning out front. “You are a wonderful daddy except for taking care of the backyard.”

I digress: Blurg and her colleagues stood in the field outside our backyard fence, waving their hands in complicated patterns and chanting incantations. A huge inter-dimensional portal appeared, and on the other side I could see the field where we had built our house 12 years ago, except it was empty again.

“Is this a time portal?” I asked. “That looks exactly like our property before we dug the first hole.”

“No, we just found another dimension where the house didn’t get built,” Grenn said.

“Why wasn’t it built?” I asked.

“You probably don’t want to know,” he said, and I realized I didn’t.

“If the house isn’t there, this won’t fool anyone,” Dejah said.

“The house will be there tomorrow,” Blurg said, sweating from the exertion of creating a portal that large, even with all the others helping. “Don’t you worry.”

In the sky, 29 warrior eagles were practicing formations, including what appeared to be a formidable  line of defense facing southwest over the house. They would scatter and then reform the line, scatter again and then reform the line again.

In the field in front of the septic mound, the 12 white-tailed deer practiced a similar maneuver, bracing themselves between an invisible foe and the modest house.

And all around, five dragons patrolled vigilantly in the sky above even the eagles.

“I have to say, it’s a little unnerving that we’ve been making all these preparations and there’s no sign of the evil beings that kept popping in and out on that first day,” I said as the sun began to set.

“I know what you mean,” Grenn said. “It’s been quiet.”

And then he broke into a huge grin, and he and Blurg said together, “Almost — TOO quiet!!”

I couldn’t help it, they laughed so hard I had to join in.

“Make no mistake, the hurricane is still coming and still on schedule,” Philbert said. He had been diligently watching the weather channel all this time. He pointed. “Halloween morning, it should appear in the sky to the southwest over there, and then hit this area as a Category 5.”

“That would ‘consume everything in its path,’ just like the prophecy said,” Blurg said, “except we will ‘be on watch against the Evil One,’ also just like the prophecy said.”

“Will you be enough?” Summer asked.

“We will have to be,” Grenn said. “Good always triumphs over evil in a fair fight.”

“WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT A FAIR FIGHT?” There suddenly came a voice that sounded like it was coming from everywhere at once. We looked to the southwest and saw the tall giant who had pretended to be the Evil One. He was flanked by his worblatt henchmen, Bellzy, Bub and Clancy.

Before anyone had a chance to say, “Holy cow, the bad guys are here,” the giant said, “GET ’EM, BOYS.”

When last we met: Another elfin being opened the patio door and came out onto the deck. Through the glass I could see several [unpronounceables] sitting on the floor in front of my television. Before I could voice my thought that everyone was getting a bit too comfortable, the elf on the deck said, “I think you need to see this.”

Dejah, Summer and I entered our living room, accompanied by a few of the creatures and critters who were small enough to get through the patio door. The TV was still tuned to the weather channel, and a bewildered meteorologist was pointing to the weather map, which showed something I had never seen on a weather map before: a kind of red arch of an arrow anchored in the southeastern United States and with the point more or less pointing to my land — or at least an area just east of the bay of Green Bay.

“This is history in the making, folks,” said the weather person, who looked excited and frightened simultaneously. “The hurricane appears to have launched itself into the mesosphere, about 60 miles high, from a spot in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. It’s on a high arc and on a course that seems targeted to land on Northeast Wisconsin from above.”

“The Evil One,” Grenn and Blurg said simultaneously.

Blurg gave Grenn a gentle punch in the shoulder and said, “You owe me a mead.”

“It’s still due to make landfall — maybe we should call that skyfall — about 20 miles north of Green Bay, Wisconsin, on Halloween morning,” the meteorologist said. “Some scientists are calling it a byproduct of climate change, but I have to say, I don’t know what to call it. This is simply unprecedented.”

“It’s magic,” Grenn and Blurg said simultaneously. Blurg poked Grenn in the shoulder again.

“Yeah, yeah, that makes two,” Grenn grinned.

I had two conflicting feelings. I was thankful that whatever was coming our way was apparently not going to wreak havoc and destruction for 1,000 miles from the Gulf of Mexico to my home. At the same time I was horrified that I appeared to be living at Ground Zero.

“Why in the wide, wide world of sports would this magic hurricane be targeting my house??!!” I cried.

“What’s the wide, wide, world of sports?” Blurg asked.

“Before your time, dear,” Grenn said.

“Blazing Saddles reference,” Dejah said.

“What’s Blazing Saddles?” Summer said.

“Oh my gosh, Daddy, we haven’t watched Blazing Saddles in more than three years!” Dejah cried.

“Summer, I owe you a laurel and hearty handshake,” I told her. “But, back on topic, why is this evil hurricane coming here?”

“The Evil One works in strange and mysterious ways,” said the eagle chief, and I was surprised to see him in my living room again. People were coming and going so quickly.

“It’s not that mysterious,” said Grenn. “Come on, everybody, let’s go outside. Philbert, you keep an eye on that magic box, to monitor any other news we need to know.”

“Oh, man. Why am I always on monitor duty?” asked Philbert.

“It’s what you do best,” said Grenn, which brought a smile to Philbert’s face.

“OK, boss,” he said. “Thanks.”

We gathered in front of the septic mound out of respect to the assembled multitude. I really did need to go through the fenced-in backyard with a pooper scooper, even if the mess had proven an effective defense against worblatts.

“OK, let’s see what we’ve got, numbers wise,” said Grenn. “I count about 50 or 60  [unpronounceables]. How many of us are mystics, Blurg?”

She did a quick head count. “Seventeen.”

“Wow,” said the great buck with surprised admiration. “I would think 17 [unpronounceable] mystics is  almost all we need to do this.”

“Am I the only one who can’t pronounce that word?” I said. The buck had pronounced it flawlessly.

“Oh, no, it’s impossible for any human to pronounce it,” Seth the Dragon said. “I don’t know why that is.”

“I believe we have 29 warrior eagles here,” said the eagle chief.

“We have only these six bucks here,” said the great buck, turning to his fellow antlered white-tailed deer.

“And your mates,” said the doe testily, as five other female deer appeared from the woods.

“And us!” cried several fawns, but the young ones were shushed back into the brush.

“And I think we can all count to five,” said one of Seth’s dragon friends.

“That’s a small army,” I said.

“But what good can even all of us do against a hurricane powered by the Evil One?” Dejah asked, and all grew quiet except for the gentle sound of the wind chimes in the autumn breeze.

“I have an idea,” said Blurg, the [unpronounceable] wizardess. 

She outlined her thought. 

An excited hubbub broke out as everyone agreed it just might work.

“OK, we have a week before Halloween,” said Seth the Dragon. “Let’s get busy.”

And everyone got busy.

Summer walked up to me then. 

“Daddy, what’s a laurel and hearty handshake?” she asked plaintively. 

When last we met: “This isn’t helping,” said the buck. “We need to be figuring out how to defend this land, not fighting among ourselves.” “Yeah,” Bellzy the worblatt said, stepping through the dimensional portal and into the field once again. “You never know when the bad guys might attack.”

Bellzy stepped through the portal onto the small field in front of the septic mound. His friend Clancy, who had been incinerated and then refreshed somehow, stepped through next, checking the ground as if to make sure it was free of dog poo. Finally, Bub came through and stood with his comrades.

“Hi again, folks, remember us?” Bellzy said, looking confidently around at the assembled eagles, white-tailed deer, dragons and [unpronounceables]. “So here’s how it’s going to be. We’re setting up camp to prepare for the coming of the Evil One.”

“I thought the Evil One was that giant buffoon who shouted all the time,” Dejah said. “Oh, that’s right, he got mad when you admitted he wasn’t really the Evil One.”

“You’re pretty sassy for a mutt,” said Clancy, taking a step towards her. “Maybe I oughtta teach you some manners.”

“Careful, Summer and Daddy were out there yesterday and I think she pooped.”

“WHAT?!” Clancy shouted, losing his balance as he looked at the ground in alarm, flailing and falling over with a BOOM. For a 20-foot worblatt, the guy had a serious phobia for dog poop.

The mystic [unpronounceable] named Blurg came up next to Grenn, and I realized suddenly that I had mistaken her for a little male wizard. 

“I have an idea,” she said. “Cover me.” Blurg made a circle with her hand, a small inter-dimensional portal appeared, and she stepped through with a half-dozen other [unpronounceables].

“I’m rather sure this gentleman does not welcome worblatts camping on his property,” the great buck said to the worblatts.

“What’s he going to do about it?” Bub said.

In answer, the bucks and dragons took a step forward, surrounding the three giants, and the eagles began to circle overhead.

“Oh, mommy, I’m scared,” said Bellzy, using that childlike taunt that grownup villains assume when they’re not scared at all.

The dimensional portal through which they had entered was still open, or else seven rotten tomatoes would not have been able to emerge from the portal and smack the three worblatts on the side of their angry-looking heads just then.

“Hey!” said Bellzy.

“What the —?” said Bub.

“EWW!” said Clancy.

Through the portal we could see Blurg and four of her companions standing in a field on the other side.

“Get them!” Bellzy shouted, and he and his two comrades dove back through the portal and began running after the little elfin beings.

As soon as they were out of sight, two other [unpronounceable] mystics stepped forward, hopped through the portal to our side, and made several elaborate gestures while chanting something I could never pronounce.

The portal closed with a rather unpleasant zipping sound.

“Sealed!” One of the mystics cried.

“What about Blurg and the others?” Summer asked with her usual trepidation.

In a few moments, another portal re-formed next to Grenn and the five other mystics leapt through. Blurg came through last, stumbling to the ground. From her sitting position she made the same gestures and incantations her colleagues had used. An enormous worblatt hand reached through the portal and the closing portal zipped around it.

“OW! OW! OW!” came a voice that sounded like Clancy’s, and the hand pulled back through before the final, unpleasant zipping sound that sealed the portal.

“Is it my imagination,” asked the regal eagle, “or are worblatts all clumsy oafs?”

“Great job, Blurg,” Grenn said, giving her a hug that suggested — at least to me — that they might be more than just fellow warriors.

“Piece of pie,” Blurg replied.

Another elfin being opened the patio door and came out onto the deck. Through the glass I could see several [unpronounceables] sitting on the floor in front of my television.

Before I could voice my thought that everyone was getting a bit too comfortable, the elf on the deck said, “I think you need to see this.”