As soon as the last Grail meeting ended, Merlin slipped out the door and lit a cigarette. One of the squires came over.
“Good boy. Is my horse ready?”
“Yes, sir. But are you certain you should go now? Their crusade could begin any month.”
“Listen,
that hobbit isn’t going to pull this off by himself and Arthur knows
what he’s doing. I’ve got two weeks vacation from Camelot and if anyone
gets suspicious I’ll blame it on Morgana. You can blame anything on the
old bitch. Two weeks is all I need to ride to Rivendell, from there
around the cliffs and I make the necessary cameo to inspire and point
him in the right direction again. I swear, if I didn’t show up regularly
they’d wander into Las Vegas before they hit the Misty Mountains.”
He
combed his beard with his fingers, changed his pointy blue hat for one
with a rim and swapped his staff for that sword the elves dropped. Then
he turned back to the squire.
“How do I look?”
“Exactly the same, sir.”
“Good,
good. If Hogwartz calls again tell them I’m not playing phone tag
anymore. If they want me to be head wizard, I want time and a half plus a
pension that doesn’t rely on disgusting jellybeans. Playing two roles
is hard enough.”
Then the wizard hustled to the stables, mumbling
something about how having to make so many dramatic appearances had
turned his hair white.
A wizard's work is never done. Or is that a wizards' work is never done?
ReplyDeleteHaha, excellent. These wordplay comments have made my rainy morning much brighter!
DeleteWhat a Wiz of a Wiz he was - or is that is? ^__^
ReplyDeleteNow you mention it they do seem pretty similar...
ReplyDelete