Tag: magic

Justice Soup

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We stood around the body, wondering who had killed the man.
So, I got out a can of alphabet soup, waved it over the corpse, poured it into a mug, and microwaved it.
When it was ready, I chanted the magic spell and threw the mug at the wall.
It shattered and splashed everywhere.
“Look!” gasped the police inspector.
The name of the killer was on the wall, spelled out in noodles for all to see.
“Simple divination magic,” I said. “Nothing to it.”
The killer was found, his bloody knife retrieved, and justice was done.
So, want some soup?

Fee Fie Foe Fucked

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Jack didn’t realize his mistake until he’d chopped through the beanstalk.
The giant was directly above his farm.
And falling. Really fast.
Gold coins couldn’t buy his way out of this one.
The goose’s goose was cooked.
And the magic harp began to play a mournful dirge as the shadows grew darker and darker.
The giant was falling face-down, and when he saw the look on Jack’s face, he roared with laughter.
“FEE FIE FO FUM!” was the last thing the giant shouted, and the last thing Jack heard.
Jack’s wife, asleep, didn’t feel a thing.
“Magic beans,” she mumbled.

Twilight Years

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I’m not old, they tell me.
I’m in my Twilight Years.
They’re not lying, I tell them. They’re just full of shit.
I look like I’m in my eighties, but I’m really in my eight hundreds.
Been that way since I was… well, eighty.
I don’t know how and I don’t know why. I just know that I haven’t died yet and I don’t appear to be in any rush to.
Know that song Forever Young? Well, I’m Forever Old.
I get sick a lot. I feel tired, weak.
But it beats the hell out of the alternative, I guess.

The Rainbow Eyes

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Every time Jesse blinks, her eyes change color.
From blue to brown to green to yellow to red…
“Is it some kind of newfangled contact lenses?” I ask.
She laughs. “I was hang gliding and flew through a rainbow,” she said. “Apparently, there’s some kind of magic in rainbows that does this.”
You’re supposed to wear goggles, but Jesse’s broke and fell off, leaving her eyes unprotected.
“What about the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?” I asked.
“I wish,” she said, sighing. “Just the eyes.”
She picked up her cane, and her dog led her away.

Spiders

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Sometimes, grocery shopping with Zelda the Enchantress can be scary.
“What kind of peanut butter would you like?” she asks.
Here’s where it gets confusing.
I like creamy peanut butter.
But I also like crunchy.
Creamy! Crunchy! I can’t decide!
“Spiders!” I shout.
“Spiders?” she asks. “Spider peanut butter?”
“I dunno!” I say. “I panicked.”
She shrugs. “Spider peanut butter,” she says. “And what kind of jelly? Spider jelly?”
“No,” I say. “Um… forget the spider peanut butter. And the jelly.”
“What about the bread?” she asks.
“Forget about the bread,” I say.
Oh great. Now I’m hungry for spiders.

Back In The Bottle

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They say you can’t put the genie back in the bottle.
This is not true.
First, you have to club the genie in the back of the head, knocking them unconscious.
Then, slit their throat with a knife.
Cut them up into smallish pieces that will fit in an industrial blender.
Finally, with the blender set on Liquefy, render the genie into a slurry.
Oh, and you might need a plastic kitchen funnel so you don”t spill any.
I used to dissolve genies with acid in my bathtub, but it’s so much easier to pour them straight from the blender.

Every Five Minutes

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Every five minutes, the strange man in the top hat pulls a lit candle out of his coat, bends over, and places it on the ground.
He stands back up, and then waits.
For five minutes.
Then, he does it all over again.
Where he’s getting these candles, I have no idea.
But he’s been doing it for a while. There’s at least a mile of candles along the Interstate.
Strange thing – it’s windy out, but the candles stay lit.
Nobody’s stopping, either. They’re just driving by, completely ignoring the weird scene on the side of the road.
Their loss.

Making Ice

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You know that old Polish joke about losing the recipe for ice?
Well, that joke has my friend George Koslowski written all over it.
Most folks, when they stick a tray full of water in the freezer, they pull out a tray full of ice.
George, if he’s not following the recipe on his notecard, pulls out the best Chicken Florentine you ever tasted.
He did this trick on Letterman the other night. Paul Shafer begged for seconds.
George didn’t join Dave and Paul at the table. He went out for a hamburger after the show.
He’s allergic to spinach.

Mouth of Money

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Wanna see something really cool?
Put a five dollar bill in Fred’s mouth, and he can spit out a hundred nickels.
No. Really. Try it.
The guy’s got himself a magical mouth or something.
Same goes for a dollar bill. He’ll spit out a hundred pennies.
What about a ten-spot? Sure, give it a try. He’ll spit out a hundred dimes.
If you need a hundred Susan B. Anthonies, put in a C-note.
Out come the shiny silver little dollars. Not that you can use them anywhere.
Don’t try it with a twenty, though. Don’t try it with a twenty.

Keep a little bit of fog

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Jackie keeps a little bit of fog in a jar on her kitchen shelf, and she watches it swirl around from time to time.
How she captured it in there, I don’t know, but I’m sure it wants out from the way it lashes against the glass.
“Don’t let it go,” she says. “It brings me good luck in here.”
She’s never burned anything in the oven, nor has any of her pots ever boiled over.
Without even trying, her pasta is perfect.
Still, I watch the fog, and wonder if it is suffering.
Oh well. It’s time for dinner.