Sam Adams Held his trident aloft, grinning sadisticly at the bloody, mangled corpse which hung impaled on its tines. Sam was the greatest weasel-hunter in the land, and here was one more kill to prove it. Feeling immensely satisfied with himself, Sam went to treat himself to a drink at the local tavern.
"Double ale!" shouted Sam to the barkeep. "I just got in from hunting and I've worked up a terrible thirst."
"What a shame." said a man in a cloak and hood who sat down beside him. "How terrible for you that your throat is dry."
"You said it."
"That weasel you just killed suffered far more than a dry throat."
Sam turned to the stranger to ask if he were one of those crazy animal activists. As he did, the stranger removed his cloak to reveal the head of a weasel.
"GEEZ!" shouted Sam as he lept out of his chair. Everyone in the bar turned to stare at him.
"These people can't see me or hear me, Mr. Adams. If you don't want them to think that you're insane, I suggest that you sit down and speak to me in a whisper."
Sam looked around at the other patrons. "A bug." he explained, resuming his place. "A big one." Then turning to the weasel-headed man, he demanded "Who are you?"
"I am Mustelon, spirit of the weasel."
"You're a ghost?"
"There's no such thing as ghosts, Mr. Adams. Once a soul is separated from its body it is taken to the next life and does not return. Not even I have the power to bring it back."
"So what are you?" asked Sam, standing up and pacing, trying to make it look like he was thinking aloud.
"I told you, I'm the spirit of the weasel. I'm the guy who watches over all the little mustelids of the world."
"I see. And you're here to punish me for killing that one little varmint."
"Hardly. I'm not going to get mad at someone for killing one weasel. I know they're not the tamest or friendliest creatures in the world."
"Then why..."
"Because to date, you have killed seven thousand, six hundred and ninety-nine." said Mustelon hotly. "All without reason, all sadisticly. I'm not going to stand by and let it happen any longer."
Sam stood facing the wall, but he was shivering. "What are you going to do?"
Mustelon rose and came up behind him. "The weasel you killed was named 'Wildflower'. His soul is gone to the next life. Yours, however, is not. I'm taking you back in time to live the last few hours of Wildflower's life, which will also be the last few hours of your own. that's justice, isn't it? You'll die at your own hand."
Sam whirled around to protest, but Mustelon was not there. The bar wasn't there. All he could see was grass, trees, and daisies. Fearfully, he looked down. His fears proved true. His own body had been replaced with the body of the weasel whom he was destined to kill in mere hours.
Sam ran. He knew that if he was not in that spot, he wouldn't meet with his past self, and wouldn't die. For hours, he ran, pushing himself until he thought his little animal heart would burst.
Finally, unable to run any further, he collapsed in the grass.
A dark, sinister figure moved to stand over him. Sam looked up to see his former self raising the trident, preparing to strike.
The irony of it. Sam had not run FROM his demise, but TO it. He lifted his head and laughed at the irony before collapsing again and weeping for the approaching end of his life.
The human sam paused. He had never seen a weasel cry. The sight moved something within him. A hardened, calcified piece of his spirit broke open, and he dropped the trident. He then picked up the sobbing animal and caressed its soft fur. He didn't understand what it could be, but there was something about this beast that destroyed within him the desire to kill, and kindled a desire to care. He took the weasel home.
Father time scowled slightly as he surveyed the scene from beside Mustelon. "You realize that there are two of him, now." said the conceptual of time. "That's a temporal paradox of the worst kind. I hope you appreciate this."
"I do." said the spirit of the weasel. "Thank you for your help, Time."
"Well, I can't complain." replied Father Time. "Years down the line, Sam's two selves are going to pioneer new human-animal communication methods. Their work will eventually result in a renewed worldwide conservation effort. That's bound to keep Mother Nature happy and out of my hair."
Mustelon smiled. It felt good to make the world a better place, and yet still be sneaky and underhanded in doing it.