Running late. Fell asleep when I should have been wordzzling. Mercifully, though it is still miserably hot, I no longer feel quite like I'm being boiled alive. I used to be better at weather. I spent 33 years in an un air-conditioned NYC apartment, after all. Every August there would be maybe 3 to 5 days when death didn't seem like such a bad alternative. This week has been like August in NY. Ugh. Anyway, As requested, I have continued the story of Fred Johnson for a bit.
Words for this week's 10-word challenge: Sunday, think the rain'll hurt the rhubarb?, sleeveless shirt, house for sale, out and about, spark, Oh, to be in England, angry, forgetfulness, in-coming And for the mini: fingers, flashlight, fanciful, daughter, music
Fred Johnson was starting to get used to his new life in Sunday, which, it turned out, was the name of the kingdom to which he had been transported by Tree Stump magic a mere week earlier. Spark, the wizard, had him in rigorous training for his post as Paragon of Virtue. He was growing quite fond of the little man, who was often heard muttering "Oh to be in England." Fred had eventually discovered that the previous Paragon had been an "in-coming" (as they referred to Tree Stump Paragons) classical Shakespearean actor from London and had inspired a great love of British poetry in the little wizard. It was summer in Sunday and the wardrobe which the wizard had supplied for Fred seemed to consist entirely of sleeveless shirts and medieval pantaloons (drat that actor). If he hadn't had to go out and about in them Fred might have found the fanciful outfit amusing, but he felt quite certain that there was much whispering and pointing of fingers and he was torn between being angry and feeling totally humiliated. There were compensations, though. Spark's daughter Flashlight happened to be extremely beautiful, so beautiful that he truly thought he heard music when she walked and was lulled into a kind of hazy forgetfulness of everything but her presence. Much to Fred's delight, her father had entrusted her with helping him to find a house for sale that would be worthy of a Paragon of Virtue. (He still didn't quite understand what his duties entailed and found it more than ironic that he, Fred Johnson was being called to be a Paragon of Virtue. Wouldn't his mother and his teachers be surprised!) In any case, today Flashlight was taking him to a small farm she and her father felt would make an excellent hope and training ground. As the owner walked up to them, he heard her inquire, "Think the rain'll hurt the rhubarb?" to which the man had replied, "not as much as snow." He had a feeling he was never going to get truly accustomed to Sunday or the possibility of execution.
Think the rain'll hurt the rhubarb, he later discovered was a kind of secret password among the wizard class of Sunday. The house for sale of rhubarb fame was now the home he lived in. It was a lovely estate and he loved being out and about on the property where he had planted a small vegetable garden which he tended when Spark was not putting him through his paces learning his new job. The upside (a welcome compensation for the possibility of being executed) of his new title was that he was being trained in basic magic. The Tree Stump apparently endowed incoming Paragons with wizarding skill - or perhaps it chose them for some latent gene. In any case, he was now apparently a new born wizard. That was cool. Not so cool was his tendency to forgetfulness of spells. An angry Spark muttering "Oh to be in England" followed by a list of expletives - or worse, incantations - was not really something you wanted a master wizard aiming in your direction. He was making small progresses, though. Last night he had managed to will an apple across the room and a an hour ago - to guarded praise from his mentor - he had managed to make himself invisible for almost a minute and a half. He was hoping that once he got a couple of additional spells under his belt, he could negotiate a a wardrobe that no longer included sleeveless shirts and pantaloons. If nothing else, it was giving him motivation to concentrate.
And the mini:
Things were looking up a bit for Fred. Now that he had mastered a dozen or so spells, Spark had relented on the pantaloons and he was comfortably attired in blue jeans and a comfortable cotton shirt. He had conjured them himself and was immensely proud of himself. Now that he was less uncomfortable, he was able to focus better and much to his own and Spark's amazement - was turning out to rather magically gifted after all. Just the other night over a cheese burger and beer (something else he had introduced the old wizard to), Spark had pointed an affectionate finger at him and said. "You were well chosen, my boy. The tree stump has not failed us," upon which statement he had said a quick "gnight" and vanished in a flash of light. Fred was still getting used to that. Now that he was back in the old man's good graces and more comfortably dressed, he spent a good deal of his down time engaging in fanciful day-dreams about Flashlight, the master wizard's music inducing daughter falling in love with him and the two of them living happily ever after. You never knew, he told himself. This is a magical kingdom after all...
Words for next week's 10-word challenge: chalk, pattern, built-in bookcases, psychopath, a wolf in sheep's clothing, hot and humid, fanciful, ugly duckling, braggart, salad
And for the mini: peace, purple, pelican, particular, pugnacious
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