JACK and JILL + POPPY 🪣
🎬
☠️ Rebel Alliance Commander Responds Back in Kind. 🦅
https://www.instagram.com/reel/DcWpfIVJcEV/?igsi=d3Nscmhha3B6eGVv
🎬
REBEL ALLIANCE AVENGER ☠️ 🚀
https://www.instagram.com/reel/DcW96RSJPGU/?igsi=Z2hqbWNhZjMwbTN6
🎬
Rover RA-005 🐰🥕
https://www.instagram.com/reel/DcXCZE3J7LS/?igsi=Z3hubnp3d3RwZ28=
Jack and Jill had been with me for as long as I could remember.
I suppose nursery rhymes are like that. You learn them before you understand much of anything, and somehow they stay with you. Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. Three Blind Mice. The Three Little Pigs.
And, of course, Jack and Jill.
For years, I liked the idea of using that old rhyme as the framework for a story. The problem was that I didn't want to simply retell it. Jack and Jill already went up the hill. They already went looking for water. Jack already fell down and Jill came tumbling after.
What else was there to say?
Apparently, quite a lot.
All I needed was one more person.
Poppy.
And unlike Jack and Jill, Poppy remembered to hold on to the damn pail. 🪣
Chapter One — POPPY 🪣
The first time I imagined Jack and Jill climbing that hill, I knew something had to change.
For one thing, there were only two of them.
That wouldn't do.
So Poppy came along.
Jack and Jill went up the hill, and Poppy followed with the pail. That seemed sensible enough. Three friends, one bucket, and a simple job to do.
Get the water.
Come back down.
How difficult could that possibly be?
Apparently, very.
Because somewhere between the bottom of that hill and the water waiting at the top, Jack and Jill and Poppy stopped being a nursery rhyme.
They became an adventure.
Chapter Two — THE COMMENT 🤡
This particular adventure began in a place considerably less interesting than a hill.
Threads.
I don't spend much time there. It's connected to Instagram, so every now and then I wander through, read a few comments, and generally try to stay out of the fray.
Generally.
Then somebody said something so unnecessarily nasty—and so completely absurd—that I stopped scrolling.
“Fuck you moron, he's a bot.”
I looked at his profile.
Comedian.
Well, that explained everything.
A real clown. 🤡
And somewhere around there, I laughed hard enough to fall out of my chair.
🤣🪑🚪🤡
I didn't know it yet, but Jack was about to go on one hell of a trip.
🎬
🚨 🍗⚡️ ☠️
SKY SIRENS 🚨 LIGHTNING WAR⚡️
https://www.instagram.com/reel/DcQ4YrrOSS2/?igsi=MTZ5a2w2dm0yd3o5bQ==
Chapter Three — AI WASTELAND ☠️
Jack had responded.
Perhaps a little more enthusiastically than necessary.
What began as a nasty comment on Threads had somehow become a Skull Battleship, an AI dog, a Rebel Alliance, and a place called the AI Wasteland.
That is the trouble with imagination.
Once you let it loose, it rarely asks permission before going somewhere else.
The comedian had called someone a bot.
So Jack gave him bots.
He gave him an AI dog.
He gave him a Skull Battleship.
He gave him Sky Sirens and Lightning War.
And somewhere in all of it stood a strange little target called WEIRDO.
It was ridiculous.
That was the point.
Jack wasn't fighting a war.
He was making one up.
And then the animation did something Jack hadn't expected.
It blew the pig up.
Chapter Four — COSMIC CROC 🐊🌌
Jack stared at what the animation had done.
That wasn't exactly what he had asked for.
The pig was supposed to be part of the joke.
Instead, the damn thing had practically been vaporized.
So much for subtlety.
But something else had happened.
The story had started moving on its own.
The Skull Battleship was no longer just an answer to some nasty comment on Threads. It had become a world. One image suggested another. One ridiculous idea opened the door to the next.
And somewhere along the way, a crocodile showed up.
Not an ordinary crocodile.
This one had gold teeth.
Engines.
A cockpit.
And apparently somewhere important to be.
Cosmic Croc was born.
Soon it was flying through space at maximum warp, carrying Jack farther and farther away from the argument that had started everything.
That was the strange thing about creating.
Jack had begun by answering an enemy.
But somewhere out among the stars, he had stopped thinking about the enemy at all.
He was having too much fun.
🎬
MAXIMUM WARP 🚀
https://www.instagram.com/reel/DcRJebuuSjQ/?igsi=ZWZzNmJhZW04ZDg0
Chapter Five — THE TURN
Something had changed.
Jack hadn't planned it.
Somewhere between the Skull Battleship, the AI dog, the gold teeth and maximum warp, the anger had begun to disappear.
The comment was still there.
The clown was still a clown.
But Jack wasn't angry anymore.
He had taken something ugly and made something out of it.
Then he made something else.
And something else after that.
What had begun as retaliation had become creation.
And creation was considerably more interesting than hate.
Then another thought entered Jack's mind.
Love thy enemy.
That one stopped him.
Because it is one thing to say it.
It is another thing entirely to go back and do it.
🎬
COSMIC CHARLIE 🐊
https://www.instagram.com/reel/DcRB5VZOFFb/?igsi=cmx6dGM5a3NnbTdk
Chapter Six — THE OLIVE BRANCH 🕊️
Jack went back.
Not to argue.
Not to fire another shot.
Not to build another battleship.
He went back to offer an olive branch.
Maybe the whole thing had gone too far. Maybe both sides had said enough. Whatever the reason, Jack had finally understood something that all the weapons, monsters and machines could never teach him.
Love thy enemy.
So he returned to where it had all begun.
Threads.
He looked for the conversation.
Nothing.
He looked again.
His post was gone.
And apparently, so was the clown.
🤣🪑🚪🤡
Funny how that worked out.
Jack had gone back looking for an enemy.
Instead, he found an empty chair and an open door.
🎬
PETER COTTONTAIL 🐰 Bethany Beach, DE 🏖
https://www.instagram.com/reel/DcT-wavphle/?igsi=MXMzbDdvOTRyY2M2bg==
Chapter Seven — BETHANY 🏖️
And Jack kept going.
The enemy was gone, but the story wasn't.
Far from Threads, battleships and the AI Wasteland, Jack arrived somewhere considerably quieter.
Bethany Beach.
And Peter Cottontail was waiting for him, so it seemed.
Jack spotted Peter shortly after arriving. He seemed to say hello, then continued hoppin’ down the bunny trail.
Peter wasn't looking for a story, but the story had come and found him at Bethany Beach.
Jill was there.
So was Poppy.
And for the first time in a while, nobody needed a weapon.
They walked beneath the stars.
They watched a shooting star cross the sky.
They sat together beneath a nebula that seemed impossibly large, as though the universe itself had decided to slow things down.
And somewhere along the way, that old nursery rhyme returned.
Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water.
Only now there were three.
Jack.
Jill.
Poppy.
And they still needed the water.
Chapter Eight — THE PAIL 🪣
They still needed the water.
That part had never changed.
Jack and Jill had always gone looking for a pail of it.
Only now Poppy was with them.
And somewhere behind them, Peter Cottontail was waiting.
So the three of them set out.
No battleship.
No AI dog.
No enemy.
Just Jack, Jill, Poppy, and a pail.
Eventually, they reached the watermill.
They sat along the stone wall with their feet in the water while the great wheel turned beside them.
A bullfrog watched from nearby.
For once, nobody was in a hurry.
The water was right there.
All they had to do was fill the pail.
And unlike the old nursery rhyme, this time somebody intended to make sure the water actually made it home.
Poppy looked at the pail.
Jack looked at Jill.
Jill looked at Jack.
And somewhere in the middle of all that looking, Blue Poppy reached for the handle.
Somebody had to get the job done.
🎬
Jack and Jill + Poppy 🪣
https://www.instagram.com/reel/DcWCCYVOA53/?igsi=NGp5Mm1rZDJzNWNv
Chapter Nine — PETER'S WATER 🐰🥕 🪣
The pail was full.
That alone was something of an accomplishment.
Jack hadn't broken his crown.
Jill hadn't come tumbling after.
And Blue Poppy had managed to keep the water where it belonged.
In the pail.
The three of them headed back.
Peter Cottontail was still there.
Of course he was.
He hadn't asked for any of this.
He hadn't asked for Jack.
He hadn't asked for Jill.
He certainly hadn't asked for Poppy.
And he had absolutely nothing to do with a comedian on Threads, an AI Wasteland, a Skull Battleship, or a crocodile traveling at maximum warp.
Peter was just a rabbit.
A rabbit on a hot summer night.
So they set the pail down and left it for him.
No great ceremony.
No battle.
No enemy.
Just a little water for a little rabbit.
Jack looked at Jill.
Jill looked at Poppy.
Poppy looked at Blue Poppy.
And Peter looked at the water.
After everything they had been through, Jack finally understood.
Sometimes the greatest adventure isn't about defeating somebody.
Sometimes it's simply about bringing the water home.
🎬
Pail of Water 🪣 Left Out for Peter Cottontail 🐰🥕
https://www.instagram.com/reel/DcVIH3Xu0no/?igsi=YTN4eTNyejF4cjdz
EPILOGUE — LOVE YOUR ENEMY 🕊️
Forty-eight hours.
That was about all it took.
A stranger had dropped into a conversation with an F-bomb and an insult directed at someone Jack supported.
There were legitimate questions about AI. Jack knew that.
Energy. Resources. Ownership. What should be created. What should not.
Those questions deserved thought.
They deserved conversation.
But "Fuck you, moron" wasn't much of an argument.
Jack had responded.
Then something unexpected happened.
The insult became a joke.
The joke became an image.
The image became another image.
And before Jack quite understood what was happening, there were Skull Battleships, AI dogs, Cosmic Crocs, stars, nebulae, Jack and Jill and Poppy, a watermill, a bullfrog, Peter Cottontail, and a pail of water.
Forty-eight hours later, Jack was at Bethany Beach.
The insult hadn't become good.
It never was.
And loving an enemy didn't mean pretending otherwise.
It didn't mean approving of what someone had done.
It didn't mean surrendering the right to protect yourself or someone else from harm.
Anger was one thing.
Hatred was another.
Jack could reject the words without rejecting the human being who had spoken them.
And somewhere in those forty-eight hours, Jack began to understand something he had heard many times before.
Love your enemy.
Jack had always thought loving an enemy meant giving something to the enemy.
He hadn't understood that there might be something there for Jack, too.
The enemy had supplied the insult.
Jack had supplied the imagination.
And God had supplied the lesson.
The blessing wasn't the insult.
The blessing was what God allowed Jack to learn through it.
Perhaps that was why loving an enemy was so difficult.
If loving him were easy, he wouldn't be an enemy.
For the first time, "love your enemy" wasn't simply something Jack believed.
It was something God had allowed him to begin to understand.
The story had ended.
The lesson hadn't.
Peter Cottontail looked at the pail.
"But first, Captain, may I have a drink from the pail of water?"
Jack smiled.
"Help yourself." ❤️🐰🥕🪣
