The Tale of Jack and the Chupacabra

Once upon a time in Mexico, Jack Covell was taking a walk through his goat farm, when he tripped and fell. When he looked up, he saw his favorite little goat, Paco, in a heap, with two holes in his neck, both with little driblets of blood leaking out onto the ground.
“Paco!” cried Jack. He fell to his knees. “What happened?”
“It was…the Chupacabra,” Paco said, weakly. The ground shook for a moment and a little boy with a guitar shot out of a gopher hole. He smiled and played an Em chord before shooting back down into the dirt.
“What should I do?” asked Jack.
“Tocame una canción,” replied the little goat.
“What?” asked Jack. He furrowed his brow. “You know I don’t speak Spanish,”
“Play me a song!” shouted the goat, impatiently.
“Oh!” cried Jack. “Of course!” He ran off to get his guitar from the house.
“Wait!” Jack stopped and turned around to see what the goat needed.
“It can’t just be any song! You have to play it on the magical guitar of Carlos Santana” Jack’s eyebrows shot up in his surprise, almost leaving his face.
“Oh dear!” cried Jack. He looked up the dusty road. A jeep was coming, very quickly, kicking up a cloud of dust behind it. “Then I must go to the house of Carlos Santana and get his magical guitar.” The jeep stopped just beside the couple and Antonio Banderas leapt out of the passenger seat. Selma Hayek blew Jack a kiss from the driver’s seat and peeled out, kicking rocks and dust out from under the tires.
“It seems you are in a bit of trouble,” said El Mariachi, whipping out his guitar. He played an Em chord and threw the guitar back in its case.
“Can you help me?’ asked Jack.
“Of course I can help you! And I plan to!” Antonio replied. “Follow me!” He started down the road. Jack and Antonio walked down the road for quite some time. As they walked, the sun grew tired and slowly fell from the sky. The stars came out and twinkled a bit. The full moon crept up over the hilltops.
“Have you seen my sun?” she asked.
“He went that way,” said Antonio. The moon rolled her eyes and began her trek across the night sky. Not too far off down the road, a pair of eyes glinted in the soft white light. A Chupacabra leapt out from behind a cactus, blood dripping from its fangs, its eyes burning with tiny fires.
“Who dares pass my road?” it hissed. A nearby cactus turned brown and shriveled.
“My name’s Jack!” cried Jack. Antonio rolled his eyes and smacked the author on the back of the head!
“Don’t be redundant!” he shouted, rolling his eyes and smacking the author on the back of the head.
“Stop that!” hissed the Chupacabra. “You cannot pass!” It licked its bloody teeth and crouched low, ready to pounce when a pair of headlights came on in the distance, accompanied by the dull, but growing roar of an engine. A red Ferrari came to a sliding stop, kicking up another dust cloud. From the front seat, his guitar already strapped around his neck, the amplifier hooked up to the speakers in his car, leapt the mighty Carlos Santana. He raised his hand high in the air and threw it down hard on the strings, which sent beautiful music rocketing out of the car’s large speakers. The Chupacabra hissed at the music and backed away into the shadow, glaring at everyone with its blood colored eyes.
“Hey, man.” Said Carlos. “That’s not cool!” Drums filled the air, and Carlos played more and more and the Chupacabra could not stand it. The beast roared and scampered off into the darkness. Carlos did not see it go and continued to play, stuck in one of his long solos. Jack slowly walked over to him and put his hand on Carlos’ shoulder. The man looked up in surprise.
“Oh, is he gone?” he asked, looking around for the first time in a long time.
“Yeah,” said Jack.
“Oh, good!” said Carlos happily. “Do you guys need anything? Drinks? A bite to eat? A dying goat in need?” Jack’s ears perked up and he immediately remembered Paco, loosing blood in the field, a few miles back down the road.
“Actually we do have a dying goat!” Jack replied.
“Oh, that’s sad,” said Carlos. “Well, hop in and I’ll give you a lift!” Jack and Antonio jumped into the red Ferrari and it sped off. They came to a screeching halt and Jack jumped out, followed by Antonio’s guitar, then Antonio. Carlos jumped over his car, sliding on the hood and hooked up his guitar. Jack got down on his knees.
“We made it Paco!” he said happily.
“Well, that’s good,” said the goat weakly. “I didn’t…”
“What do you mean?” asked Jack, panicking.
“I’m dead,” said the goat, going limp, its tongue hanging out of his mouth.
“NOOOOOO!” Jack pounded his fist on the dusty ground. Carlos was hooking his guitar up to his car again. He started to play the same song Jack heard in his heart. Paco opened one eye. He lifted his head up off the ground for a moment, then climbed to his feet. Jack’s eyes were shut tight, wringing tears out like a washcloth. He flung his arms around the goat and pulled him close. “OH, PACO! WHY’D YOU HAVE TO BE DEAD?”
“Felt like…the right…thing…to do…at the time” said Paco, gasping for air. Jack’s sobs ceased. He opened one eye…then pulled his head away from the goat’s body. The goat looked at him, with a small smirk on his face.
“You’re alive!”
“I’m alive!”
“Let’s dance!” Santana started to play. The drums came back from their unknown source. Antonio and Carlos sang, while Jack and his goat danced under the moon. It was awesome.
The End.