Jellybean Highfive tried to find the magic secret of the wondrous javelin but the man in short shorts had thrown it far away.  

After it he went, like a galloping horse upon which rides a girlish-sized man in bright clothing. He soon caught sight of it again and hastened to the place where it lay. Its point was embedded in the firm grass and its hinder-parts tottered like an insistent metronome. A quivering glory.

“I have found it,” Jellybean said. Then, like men caught up in profundity often do, he said it again. “I have found it.”

A man with a clipboard came and wrote down something about the magic device. Surely those words were an oracle, and Jellybean longed for them as a man longs for long longings.

“Do you know the way to the Avenue of the Twilight of the Javelins?” Jellybean asked the old man.

“I just work here,” the man said.

“Yes you do,” Jellybean said. “Yes, you do.”