"Jack Be Nimble," I muttered thinking that one was safe. No dogs, cats or cow transformations for me.
"Right, this way," he said lifting another tent drape.
As I entered, he said, "I'd like you to meet Jack. Jack, this is Mister Wick. Got a light for him."
I stood transfixed, my arms and legs melting inward on each other. I was becoming a huge candle. Jack, a young athletic looking fellow came toward me with a lit match. I tried to speak, scream or blow it out, but I had stopped breathing. Suddenly, I felt the flame on my head. The heat was intense. Wax flowed out of me and up my wick, and molten wax began to drip down my face. Jack had backed away from me, and now took a running start straight for me. I was sure he'd hit me, but three feet in front of me he jumped, and did a full body flip over me. I heard someone reciting, "Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jump over the candle stick..."