When Jasper took his shirt off we knew it was gonna happen.
The townspeople held their breath as one, and the hush of expectation fell upon the crowd like a mantle. I felt my pulse tugging at my heart, and it took everything in my willpower for me to remain still.
Jasper stood in the middle of the field, his long black hair floating loose down his shoulders. His chest was pure marble in the sunlight and his face was serene, almost seraphic. Eyes focused inward, on what was to come.
"Mama, what's he gonna do?" a small child asked her mother.
"Hush, child. Watch and see."
So we did. And what we saw was this: we saw a man change form before our eyes, his body shudder and distort, a blur of impossible angles. I could see the seams on his jeans starting to give and I wondered, abstractly, why he hadn't thought to take off his pants, too. But at least he was barefoot.
There was a sudden burst of light, and a sharp pop, and then Jasper ceased being Jasper. I mean, he was still Jasper, only not the Jasper we knew.
He was changed, the first villager in one hundred years to shape-shift. A great black dog sat on the grass where Jasper was standing not a minute before. It lifted its shaggy head and howled once before running into the thick of threes, out of sight.
All that was left of Jasper's jeans were dark blue threads that briefly hung on the air before falling gently down to earth.