The Wizard

He didn't look like a wizard. Not exactly. Oh, there was the beard and wizened visage, but instead of a robe he wore overalls and instead of smoking tobacco in a long stemmed pipe, he chewed (which had partially dyed his white beard a nice shade of brown). His hat was of straw and not the least bit pointy. And instead of a walking staff, he carried a handful of cured tobacco leaves, from which he'd chomp off a bit to reflavor the ever-present wad in his jaw.

"Boy, you about ready?" he asked, by way of introduction.

I stood there with my door and my mouth wide open. Finally I said, "Ready for what?"

He cackled and spat a brown stream on my front porch. "Your destiny, what else?" He turned and started walking.

Compelled to follow, I temporarily closed the door on my former life. "What about my family?" I asked.

"You got a right smart gal there pardner, she'll be fine. Besides, this won't take long."

I caught up with him and asked, "What's your name, anyway?"

He smiled, exposing four or five brown teeth. "Cletus. And that's all you need to know for now."

I followed him down the road.