“Aaaaiiiyah!” Mortimer yelled as he flew through the air in what could generously be described as a cross between a trip and a dive. Arms outstretched, he wrapped his fingers around a frog in mid-leap and continued on into the unfortunately placed bookshelf. With a -CRASH!- all of the contents of the shelf came tumbling down, and Mortimer was quickly buried under a pile of dusty old books, larger, dustier, older books, and something that may or may not have been a jar of rabbit’s feet.
“It’s fine,” Mortimer muttered aloud to no one in particular. “It’s only my body that’s broken. Still, at least I caught the frog.” He made the whimpering sound of triumph, and pushed just enough books aside so that he could lift his head – just in time to see the bookshelf lean precariously forward.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to NOT fall on me today, eh Mr. Bookshelf?”
The bookshelf leaned even more.
“Right. Well then; on with the screaming. Aaaaaaaaah!”
The massive bookshelf fell, landing directly on Mortimer and dropping a few more dusty tomes on him for good measure. The frog meanwhile, having slipped out of the grasp of a now very unconscious wizard’s apprentice, proceeded to continue its general habit of hopping about and croaking.
Some time later...
Mortimer awoke to the sound of the shop door opening. “Help! H-e-l-p!” He cried.
“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE!?” a booming voice replied. “MORTIMER!!!”
“Under the bookshelf, you ninny!” Mortimer replied. “Just get this thing off me!”
There was a moment of silence, and the booming voice became a whisper, lowly chanting in some arcane and suitably dead tongue. The bookshelf stirred, and began to rise, tilting backwards and returning to its normal position. At the same time, the many books also began moving; twisting through the air in a reverse fall and ending up perfectly positioned on the shelf. All that remained on the floor was an undeniably flatter, red-robed figured attempting hold his nose, forehead, and back at the same time.
Mortimer jumped to his feet angrily, and looked almost straight down. He was staring into the eyes (sunglasses, technically speaking) of a diminutive, blue robed man sporting a white beard which easily touched the floor and dragged – just so. In fact, the only thing even remotely tall about this fellow was the enormous pointed cap resting upon his head, which was topped off with a small golden star, causing the impeccably starched wizard’s cap to crook just a little, just a the top (a fact that bothered the mighty sorcerer to no end, mind you).
“You know, would it have killed you to put the pieces of my spine back together while you were at it?!” Mortimer bristled.
The wizard reached his hand up and adjusted his sunglasses. “The fact that you’re not an aardvark right now should make you plenty grateful.”
Mortimer stood motionless, finger in the air and mouth agape. His nose was beginning to look several sizes larger than normal. “Good point, Ned.”
Ned smiled wryly and stepped toward the window of the disorganized shop. All around him, piles of scrolls, books and potions littered the tables and floor, along with various knick-knacks of a no doubt magical nature (excluding, of course, the fern which Ned had added some months ago in an attempt to ‘Spruce up the ole’place). “The queen will be coming along shortly, Mortimer” Ned said after a pause. “I assume you’ve kept our little green friend safe and sound?”
Behind Ned, there was a small crash and the swift movement of feet. By the time he turned around, Mortimer was standing before him, panting heavily and holding a moist, green object inches from the wizard’s face.
The item in question was clearly one of the shop’s spare crystal balls dipped in green paint, and with a set of googly-eyes hastily glue onto it. Even as Ned stared at it, one of the eyes began to slide off of the freshly painted orb. Mortimer quickly pushed it back into place. “One frog, as ordered.”
“Mortimer…” Ned began.
“Yuh huh.” Mortimer returned.
Ned sighed. “Despite the fact that this is an obvious, and terrible, frog forgery, I’m feeling charitable. Before you spend the next several months as the stable-boy’s shoes, I just want to know where my frog went. Is that too much to ask?”
“Amazing!” Mortimer replied, focusing on the, now eyeless, painted crystal ball, “Your frog must have crafted this convincing double while I was busy tidying up the shop!”
The old wizard raised a very bushy eyebrow.
Mortimer’s expression grew sour, and he hurled the crystal over his shoulder without looking. “Fine. I knocked the jar with the frog inside over, and spent the next half-an-hour trying to chase the little guy down.”
“Tell the stable-boy I said hello.” Ned said evenly as he crooked a single finger to point at Mortimer. Mortimer noticed it was his smiting finger.
-Ribbit!-
-Ribbit!-
Mortimer’s own red apprentice cap wiggled just a bit, and Mortimer’s eyes nearly crossed as they looked toward the top of his head.
-Ribbit!-
“Frog.” The wizard said as he held out his hand, obviously more than a little disappointed that his smiting finger wouldn’t be getting a workout today.
“Frog.” replied Mortimer coolly as he reached a hand under the hat on his head and produced the very calm looking amphibian.
As Ned received the frog from his apprentice, a very powerful knock at the door caused it to bow inward. Ned scuttled over and opened it.
“Ahhh, your majesty,” He said with a slight bend. “always a pleasure.”
Mortimer rubbed his eyes and blinked rapidly. “Oh dear god what is that thing?”
The Queen was, speaking somewhat graciously, a large woman. Not that there was ever anything wrong with that, however Mortimer was sure that several atrocities had been committed in order to fit her into the tiny shoes upon which she stood. The Queen loomed inside (read: stuck inside like a cork in a bottle) the doorway, glowering at Mortimer.
Mortimer glowered back.
Not to be outdone, The Queen responded with still more glowering.
Ned slapped Mortimer on the back of the head and told him to go get the Door De-Jamming system – in actuality a can of Hog’s grease the wizard used when the queen or some of her more “full bodied” sisters paid a visit to the shop.
Several minutes and an inordinate amount of pushing later, The Queen and Ned had secluded themselves in the back room with the Frog, leaving Mortimer to tidy up the storefront. He grabbed the nearest non-magical broom and began to sweep.
“You know,” He said aloud “when I signed up for this wizard’s apprentice thing, I figured I was going to be learning – I don’t know – magic or something, maybe? None of that ‘fireballs from the eyes’ stuff as awesome as that would be, but conjuring some gold coins, maybe a mansion or two, I wouldn’t mind that. Or anything at all for that matter. I mean, here I am, sweeping the floor of the great Nedric Spellsmore, and I can’t even cast a measly frog catching spell. Where’s the justice in that?!”
One of the shrunken heads hanging from the coat rack opened its eyes. “Maybe if you weren’t so danged lazy, Nedric wouldn’t make you do chores all day to try and teach you some discipline!”
“Like I’m going to listen to what a dried up head has to tell me, Bernie.” Mortimer returned without looking over “You don’t even have a brain anymore, man.”
Bernie raised both his eyebrows and frowned just a little bit “That makes two of us. That’s not the normal broom, Mortimer.”
Mortimer realized what Bernie meant just in time to let the broom go as it went rocketing up, smashing a hole in the ceiling and quickly disappearing out of sight. “I hate brooms.” He said flatly. “Still, it really opens up the shop space, don’t you think? Look at all the light we’re getting now.”
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