Wednesday, January 25, 2017

Pandemonium is not about dancing Pandas





"I'm not screaming!" The beefy guard screams as he runs for cover, this being a desk which he hurdles in a single leap landing with a sufficiently slimy plop. "Ribbbith!" the frog croaks.
The toady guard hops, runs, scrambles out of the way as the other guards start bolting in order to avoid Ismie's wrath.
Someone is shouting "Witch!' as guards continue being zapped into oddly colored amphibians.
Ismie stands in the midst of the chaos calmly pointing a slender wood wand at various guards, giving the wand a roll and saying things like "tree frog," "mud dabber," or "rainbow puckerer."
This goes on for about an hour.
"It was just three minutes."
The end result, about 100 frogs, toads and newts sitting in various positions of utter confusion or sticking to the walls in much the same state.
"There are only 20, I counted."
I look at Ismie reproachfully. She shrugs.
"Fine, there are 80 invisible toads and it took forever to get it done."
"Now what?"
"I suppose we find the key and get your friends out of jail." Ismie looks around.
I look around.
"What happened to the guard's clothes?" I ask.
Ismie stops cleaning her wand and looks up.
"Oops," She says.
"Oops?" I ask.
"Side effect of the spell, I'm afraid" Ismie replies, shrugging her beautiful face creasing with a lopsided grin.
"Side effect?" I try to shrug and do my own lop-sided grin.
Ismie giggles as my grin looks more like that of a drunken clown smiling with most of his teeth gone.
"Well, it's a matter of propriety." Ismie settles herself carefully on one of the few pieces of furniture still intact and right side up.
"Go on," I say looking around for something to perch on, failing to find anything leaning against a wall. An angry ribbit explodes as I almost squash a multicolored Gecko Frog. He sticks out his tongue at me and hops further down the wall.
It takes Ismie awhile to stop laughing.
So I laugh as well.
"You don't want these guys to return to human shape naked."
I shudder.
"Exactly."
Not a one of them had been what I would call handsome.
"Ith amth noth ugly!" declares the toad who had been the shorter guard.
We look at him.
"Neverth-mindth," The toad says as he scuttles away.
"How long will they be like this?' I ask.
"Oh about a day or two, wide casting seldom can last more than that."
I nod my head as if to say I understood any of it.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!!!"
We look around to find a thin young man in finery standing at an open inner door. He is kind of cute if you like your men skinny, no lanky- no, rail thin- yes, rail-thin.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!!"
We look around, again, to find another man skinny but with an enormous pot belly (which looks very odd indeed) standing opposite the rail-thin fop. This one is dressed in traditional star-gazer robes.
"She just called me a fop!" The Fop yelled.
"She just inferred that I am a stargazer!" The pot-bellied dud yelled back.
"Don't you mean dude?" Ismie says.
"What?" I say.
"You wrote dud not dude, don't you mean dude?" Ismie says as the smile fights to reclaim her face.
"What is a dude?" I say.
"Probably same as a dud, but more laid back," Ismie replies.
I shrug.
"Hello! We are standing right here!" The Fop shouts flapping his arms.
"Does she always do this?" the Dud asks Ismie.
"Yes, and I find it very charming," Ismie says as I blush.
"Well, okay then." the Dud says.
"HELLO? I AM STILL STANDING RIGHT HERE!!!" the fop yells.
"That you are," Ismie says.
"WELL?"
"Well, what?" I ask.
For a moment, the fop looks apoplectic then he calms down and points at himself.
I raise my eyebrow.
He jabs himself in the chest.
I lower my eyebrow.
"What his highness is saying is that since he is the Duke that you two should curtsy," the dud interjects.
"EXACTLY!" the fo- I mean the Duke says and crosses his arms.
"He yells too much," I say to Ismie.
"He's always been like this ever since he was a little piglet," Ismie says.
I raise both of my eyebrows.
Ismie giggles.
"Figure of speech," She adds.
"Witches." the dud says.
"I am not a dud (whatever that is)," the dud says as he turns on me. "I happen to be a wizard." He whips out a stargazer hat and plants it on his bald head.
"Balding! I am just balding-not bald!"
"Whoa calm down dude," I say before glancing at Ismie to confirm I am using dude right. She gives me the thumbs up.
"I am-" he begins, but I interrupt him.
"You don't look like a wizard," I say.
"How would you know?"
"I know a wizard," I say "His name is Ralph."
"His name is Ralph." the dude says in a very condescending fashion. "What makes him a wizard but not me?"
"He doesn't wear Stargazer robes and a pointy hat with a moon on it."
"This is what wizards wear."
"Nope," I say.
"What?"
"I said nope. Wizards wear blue jeans and Van Halen Tee Shirts."
The dude looks at me, mouth open and then at Ismie who shrugs. I know my wizards.
"You're insane." he says.
"What?"
"I went to the wizard school in Stoval Korg and no wizard there wears blue beans and Van Hellven Cee Shirts!"
"Blue jeans."
"What?"
"They are called Blue Jeans, dude," I shake my head. "No one wears beans even if they are blue."
He just gapes at me.
"Look, she's a witch and she doesn't wear a stargazer robe or rags."
He looks at Ismie for a long while before whipping out his own wand.
Ismie points her wand at him and says "Disarmification."
The dude's wand turns into a turnip.
He looks at it and curses.
"Nicely done," I say.
"Thank you." Ismie gives me a flourish and a half bow from her spot on the table.
The dude reaches into his robe whips out another wand which also turns into a turnip.
He stares at it in shock.
"Spell duration," Ismie says sweetly.
I clap.
The dude sighs, shoves the turnip back into his robe, looks around, walks over to an upturned chair, correct its position then sits down.
"So what do you call yourself?" Ismie asks.
"What?" he glances at her and shrugs. "I am Rupert the magnificent."
"Not Magnificient?"
Rupert looks embarrassed.
"I'm confused," I put my two bits in.
"It's a wizard thing," Rupert says. "Until I win a wizarding duel, I am just magnificent."
"Figures" I reply. Wizards are very odd.
"HELLO!?!" The Duke yells.
"Oh sorry, your worthlessness," Ismie says turning back to him.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?!"
"I turned all your guards into amphibians," Ismie says with a shrug, I love how she shrugs. She glances back to give me a wink.
"Hey! Cut that out!" the Duke yells at me. "Why would you do that?"
"They were being rude," Ismie says turning back to him.
"You have no respect for authority!" the Duke says. "You should be put in a cell until you do."
"Oh?"
"Yes."
"What are you going to do about it, little man."
Wait, I just said that!
The Duke holds up his hand, waggles his fingers. He has a nasty smug smile on his face.
A fresh flood of heavily armored men charges into the room around him.
"Oh. That is something."
I say. I look at Ismie.
"I got this," Ismie says.
She hops to her feet, does a flip off the table and whips her wand into a full arc as she does it.
It is a thing of grace and beauty as this beautiful athletic woman executes this perfect flip while magic streams out in rainbow colors across the room.
"Oh Fuke," Says the first heavily armored man.

Later, we find the keys on the armored man at the back of the room.
He's not a man anymore, he is now a wonderfully cute little black and white bear cub.
"That's a panda," Ismie says.
"Oh." It's true the panda sits inside the suit of the armor like his fellow's- sufficiently contained cages.

"IT'S NOT FAIR!!!" the Duke wails. Turns out he's actually 15 and not 16 and it shows. He looks quite old for his age. Rupert pats him on his back. After what Ismie did, he hasn't even tried anything even after his main wand turned back.





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