Cooking

   Note from Owen Tucker:  Hey.  Remember what I said here last time?  If you don’t, go back and look and you’ll see that it applies here as well.

   A thought occurred to me.  I froze.
   “Wait just a second!” I yelled.  I turned back to the sweet old lady. “Would you like my phone number in case you have any trouble?”
   She looked a bit startled, standing over the kids like that with her salt and pepper shakers.
   “No,” she shook head, knocking her pointy hat askew. “Thank you very much though.”
   I smiled. “Not a problem, ma’am.  Just trying to make sure to cover every contingency.”
   She nodded with a little smile.  I nodded back before turning and continuing on my way.  I stopped dead a second later.
   “Hold on now!”  I spun around.  “Are you sure you don’t want my number?  Because if you ever want someone to babysit the little buggers, I’d be happy to oblige.  They’ve kinda grown on me y’know.”
   She had this big pot out now, probably making sure the kids weren’t hungry, which she was stirring slowly.
   “No no,” she shook her head again, but her hat didn’t go askew this time because she didn’t have it on anymore. “I’m fine, young man.  Go on, now.  I’m sure your mother is waiting for you.”
   I nodded.  What a sweet, thoughtful old lady.  I was sure now that she’d make a wonderful grandmother for the children. 
   I turned away yet again, only to remember something else very important.  When I turned back this time, she had the kids in the big pot!  That thing I had remembered popped right out of my head, replaced with the one and only thing I could say under the circumstances.
   “Low and slow with lots of salt and possibly just a dash of chili pepper.” I smiled. “That’s how my mom always does it.”
   She was looking at me with the strangest expression.  Probably realizing that I had just saved her cooking.  Being the wonderful lady she was though, she still managed a slight smile.
   “Yes yes, of course,” she said. “I’ll do that.”
   She reached into somewhere, pulled out a pinch of chili pepper, and tossed it in.
   I nodded. “Perfect.  You have fun now.  Don’t let the kids eat too much of that candy and stay up too late.”
   “Oh yes,” she returned the nod. “I’ll make sure they don’t.”
   I continued nodding with a vacate smile on my face.  I had a feeling I had forgotten something, I just couldn’t remember what.  I looked at the house, the little old lady, the kids in the pot—OH!
   “Watch out!” I screamed. “Your water is about to boil over!”
   “Oh dear.”  She took out the spoon she had been stirring the pot with and tapped it against the side. “Thank you, dearie.”
   Instead of stopping the boiling, though, that just seemed to flair it up and the water started going over the sides.  I rushed over to help, accidentally knocking against the pot in the process.  Some of the water splashed out, getting all over the lady. 
   As soon as it hit her, she threw up her hands and started screaming and running around in circles.
   I gasped. “Oh my gosh!  I’m so sorry!”
   “AAAAHHHHH!” was all she said back.
   I tried to help her, but she wouldn’t stop running.  And that running was definitely not was she needed, because she kept getting smaller, and smaller, and smaller, and smaller.  Until poof!  She was completely gone.  The house was gone too, along with the big pot.  It was just me and the kids all alone in the forest again.
   I wiped a tear out of the corner of my eye.  The world was now short one wonderful grandmother.  I could only hope that I would be able to find these kids someone else half as good as her.

   To be continued…

Gingerbread

   Owen Tucker’s note:  If you wanna know what happened before this, go read the last post.  I laid it all out in great detail there so no one would be confused when they read this one.

   The kids grabbed both my hands and started dragging me over to the house.
   “Come on,” they said. “Let’s go.”
   I got a firm footing and stood strong, immune to their valiant efforts to pull me forward.
   “Now hang on just a second here,” I said. “Don’t you know that an evil witch lives in that house?  And that if you go in there, she’ll stick you,” I pointed to the boy. “In a pot for dinner, which will make you,” I pointed to the girl. “Commit a heinous crime that I’m sure you regretted for the entirety of your life, even though it did save your brother’s life?”
   The kids looked at each other, then back at me.
   “No,” they said. “That’s a gingerbread house.  So of course a gingerbread man lives there.  We can eat him and his house too!”
   “Okay, first of all, you have no idea how barbaric that sounded.  Second, a gingerbread man does not live there.  That’s just ridiculous.  There is no such thing as a living gingerbread man.  Just inanimate cookie ones.   Wilfred, help me out here.”
   “Na laddie an’ lassie, ya doon’t want ta go en ther, Ah’m thinkin’.  Better out here, aye?”
   “There are too gingerbread men because they’re living in that gingerbread house.  Let’s go!”
   Man, those children were rude.  They just kept going as if they couldn’t even hear Wilfred.  Oh wait.  That’s right.  They can’t.
   I sighed. “Okay fine.  We’ll go to the house.  But don’t say I didn’t warn you.  Because I did.”
   I stopped resisting and the kids pulled me to the house as fast as they could.  Once we were within grabbing distance the kids started pulling off pieces of candy and wolfing them down like, well, kids with candy.  After about two seconds of this (you would be amazed at how much candy kids can eat in two seconds) the door of the house opened and a gingerbread man walked out.
   Yes, I did just say a gingerbread man walked out.  But obviously he was like in another dimension or something that was bleeding over into ours at that moment.  Because we all know that there is no such thing as real live gingerbread men, as I explained to the kids earlier. 
   Ahem, anyway.  The gingerbread man came out, the kids stopped eating, stared at him, then started this little victory dance.
   “See?” they said. “Gingerbread men do—“
   They both flopped over onto their backs and started snoring before they could even finish their “told you so”. 
   I stared at the gingerbread man, just a bit apprehensive. “How’d you do that.”
   The gingerbread man smiled.  A really creepy smile, because he actually had teeth.  Nasty, yellow, jagged teeth.  Then his whole body did this weird, twisty, shape shifting thing that was actually pretty gross looking.  When it finished, he was now a her.  An old, grey haired, stooped over, wrinkled lady.  The teeth now fit perfectly into her whole stereotypical evil witch look. 
   “Sedatives in the candy,” she said, cackling with her witchy voice.  “Would you like some?”
   I grinned for about the duration of one nanosecond, then put on my serious face.
   “No way,” I said. “I’m not eating any of your candy, and you’re not eating any of these kids.”
   “But why not?” she asked, looking fondly down at the kids. “They look so cute and tasty lying there.”
   “The cute part is fine.  All well and good and normal.  It’s the tasty bit that is not normal at all.  Get rid of that part and you’re welcome to be these kids’ new grandma.”
   “Okay, they’re just cute.”
   “Oh good.  They’re all yours.”
   At that, there was this muffled buzzing, which almost sounded like Wilfred, but he never holds back, so it couldn’t have been him.
   The little old lady nodded with a cute chuckle and I started to walk away, satisfied with the fact that I had found the kids a good new home.

   To be continued…

Woods, Kids, and Gingerbread

   This here adventure starts out someplace inside Howard.  It gets kind of confusing in there since he’s such a big fellow, so I’m not exactly sure where I was at this particular point.  All I know is that I opened this one door, and it did not lead to a room. 
   “Whoa,” I said. “What is this?”
   “Et looks liek a foreest ta mah.”
   Wilfred got it in one.  The door opened into a forest.  Dead serious.  The side of the frame I was on had a wood floor; the other side was grass and trees.  I walked through the door, and I swear, it was like I entered a whole new world.  There were little birdies chirping, butterflies flapping by, and I think I heard a creek flowing along somewhere nearby. 
   I turned around and looked back through the door.  It was nothing but a doorway.  Just a doorframe in the middle of a forest with nothing around it.  Yet I could still see the hallway inside.  It was really weird.  Kind of like looking into the TARDIS from outside, except this was just the doorway, no box part (I’m sorry for all of you who did not get the reference.  Truly I am.  Go watch Doctor Who.  Seriously.  It’s awesome). 
   “Dude, is this awesome or what?” I asked Wilfred.
   “Et’s pretty amazing a’right.”
   “Come on.  Let’s check it out.”
   “Hold up ther, laddie boy.  How are we goin’ ta find thes ‘ere place agan?”
   “Oh I’m sure Dave can do some magical thingy that’ll get us back here.  Right, Dave?”
   Probably.
   “Ach, ‘probably’.  Ah’m soo reassured.”
   “Good, now let’s go.”
   I started walking, glancing back every now and then, but soon the door was lost to sight.  It was so peaceful in those woods.  Nobody around for miles.  Just me, Wilfred, Dave, and those two kids there.  Ah, so nice.  Wait.  Hang on a sec.  Two kids?  I stopped and stared.  Sure enough, there were two kids.  They were walking somewhat aimlessly a ways in front of me, and they appeared to be leaving behind a trail of breadcrumbs.  Not that it was doing them any good though.  There was a tiger walking along behind them, eating each crumb as they dropped it. 
   I’m glad that tiger was there, because for a moment I had the completely outlandish idea that I had somehow wandered into that old Hansel and Gretel story.  Y’know, the one where those two kids run away from home or something and leave that trail of breadcrumbs?  Oh wait, no.  Their stepmom hates them and tells their dad to go out and dump them in the woods, right?  That’s what the breadcrumbs are for.  It’s a pretty depressing kids story all in all.
   Anyway!  The point is that this couldn’t possibly be that story because everyone knows it was the birds that ate the breadcrumbs in that story.  Here we have a tiger, so it’s a whole different kind of ballgame.
Seeing as how it was, I decided to do the decent thing and warn the kids that there was a ravenous tiger behind them that was about to eat them as soon as they ran out of breadcrumbs.
   “Hey kids!” I yelled. “Watch out for that tiger behind you!”
   The kids spun around, saw the tiger, and screamed really loud.  The tiger jumped at least a foot in the air and streaked off into the woods as fast as he could.  Kind of like my cat at home, actually, when he gets freaked out.  Huh.  Guess all kitty cats are alike. 
   Once it was gone, the kids ran over to me and hugged my legs (they were really short).
   “Thank you thank you!” they said, pretty much simultaneously.  “You saved us.”
   I shrugged. “Aw heck, it was nothing.”
   “Et reelly wasn’t.”
   I decided to ignore Wilfred at this time.  “So what are you kids doing out here all alone?”
   “Our daddy left us out here,” they began, again almost simultaneously.  The fact that they were just a little bit off was really annoying. “Because our stepmum doesn’t like us.  Now we’re trying to find our way home, but we don’t know where to go because it is very confusing out here.”
   I frowned. “Hang on a second.  Your daddy left you out here because your stepmom doesn’t like you?”
   They nodded.
   “Ooooookay then.  I guess I’ll just have to find a way to get you home.”
   “Or we could go and look at that gingerbread house.”
   I frowned some more. “What gingerbread house?”
   They pointed.  I looked.  There was a gingerbread house, large as life, about a hundred feet away. 
   Now that’s just weird.

   To be continued…

Evil (or Not)

   Note from Owen Tucker (haha, funny how I can still sneak that in, huh?):  This next story picks up about five or ten minutes after the last one left off.

   Use me for evil.
   It was about the hundredth time Dave had said that in the time it takes to get halfway to Howard.  That’s not a very long time. 
   Use me for evil.
   Wilfred groaned. “Can ya na shut et up?”
   “Shut up, Dave,” I said.
   Use me for evil.
   “Nope.  I can’t shut him up.”
   “Et’s yours thoo, right?  Why can ya na shut et up?”
   I rolled my eyes. “I’m sorry, Wilfred, that I found this mystical thing that gives me the power to use magic, but also just happens to be a bit annoying.  I, for one, am willing to endure it for the perks.”
   Use me for evil.
   “Tha is na jest a wee bit annoyin’.  Tha’ is annoyin’ as ‘eck.”
   I glared at Dave.  “Can’t you say anything else?”
   There was a moment of silence.
   Use me for evil.  Now.
   I sighed and shook my head.  “That is not an improvement.”
   If you do not use me for evil, you must die so that another can take your place.
   “Whoa!  Did you hear that?  He said something new!’
   “Aye,” Wilfred said. “But na exactly somethin’ good.”
   “Well yeah,” I agreed.  “That whole dying part is a bit pessimistic, but hey, at least he’s saying something different now.”
   If you do not use me for evil, people will die.
   “Psh, right,” I scoffed.  “Like you can do anything without me.”
   Your family will die.  Your home will be destroyed. 
   “Mah, esn’t et a bloodthirsty thing.”
   “Yeah.  You’d better watch it, Dave.  You’re venturing into dangerous territory there.”
   Your life will be destroyed.  Your friends will not live to see another sunset.
   “Hey!  I’m warning you, Dave.”
   And your little dog too.
   I stopped midstride, yanked Dave off my finger and held him up close to my face.  “What was that?”
   Your dog shall die a most terrible death.
   “Pal, you threaten my dog, you threaten me.”
   I threatened both, actually.  You first, then the dog.
   “Yeah you did.  But you’d better not even think about going close to my dog.”
   I made death threats against your family and friends.
   “You touch my dog and I’ll kill you.”
   Wilfred, please tell me he’s not serious.
   “Oh he is,” Wilfred replied.  “Dead serious.”
   “Dang straight I am,” I said.  “No one touches my dog and gets away with it.”
   I give up.
   I nodded. “Good choice.”
   There was several minutes of silence.
   I grinned. “Woulda look at that?  I got him to shut up.  Takes the right kinda skillz there, Wilfred old pal.”
   “Aye.  Ya definitely got those skills, laddie.”

   The End!

Bob

   Note from Owen Tucker:  I’m writing a book!  All about my adventures.  Y’know, the ones with Wilfred, and Dave, and Howard.  So the things I put up here each week are going to be excerpts from that.  I don’t know what it’s going to be called yet, but I’m sure I’ll think of something suitably awesome. 
   Anyway, this basically means that I won’t be saying my name before every journal thingy entry.  I don’t know how you’ll survive without seeing my name, but I guess you’ll just have to deal with it.
   Here we go!

   Thus began the adventures of my traumatized trio (I couldn’t think of another would to go with “tri”)!  Oh, but before I get into any of that—I found that Dave has this cool morphing ability that lets him turn into whatever he wants.  So I had him turn into a ring and stuck him on my finger for convenience.
   Okay!  The adventure that I will unfold for you today started at my house.  I was taking Wilfred and Dave to go visit Howard.  Well, by Wilfred’s account, I wasn’t taking him.  He was just tagging along.  Whatever. 
   I was just walking out of my house, hadn’t even made it halfway down the sidewalk to the road, when a black car roared up and stopped with a really painful sounding squeal.  And guess who jumped out?  It was my Asian buddy—er—kidnapper.  His face a few more scars then in our last encounter, compliments of my squirrel friends, but besides that he looked fine and dandy. 
   Before he could take even one step up the sidewalk, though, I held out my hand. “Whoa, hang on there, pal.  Not a step further until you tell me your name.”
   He thought for a second, then shrugged. “My name Bob.”
   I sagged just a bit. “Really?  Bob?  Man.  With all this kidnapping, judo, and Asian look thingy, I was hoping you’d have one of those really awesome Chinese names or something.”
   Bob shook his head. “No.  I Bob.”
   “Well then, Bob, you’d better skedaddle out of here before I make you—disappear.”
   Bob laughed. “You no make disappear.  I make disappear.”
   He twirled his hand around in this cool twisty thingy and suddenly my feet left the ground and I was being pulled toward him.  Dude, Bob got magic too.  That explained a few things.  Didn’t make it acceptable though.
   I pointed my finger (the one with Dave on it) at Bob and said, “Powy!” leaving the interpretation of that up to Dave.  And he did a good job of it, if I do say so myself.  Bob flew back and slammed into his car hard enough to dent it. 
   “Ooo, that had to hurt,” I said.
   Bob just hit the ground and rolled around moaning for a while. 
   “Okay, Dave,” I brought the ring to eye level. “Can you take his magic from him?  I don’t think he knows how to use it right.”
   Dave flashed.  His connection and experience with magic is limited.  I should be able to remove it from him easily.
   “Then by all mean, do so.”
   A strange buzzing sound filled the air.  Kind of like that sound you hear when it’s completely silent.  It lasted for a few seconds, then faded away.
   Bob got to his feet, holding his sides, and glared at me.  He held the glare for a while, then frowned, looked down at his body, looked back up, and tried again.  I assumed he was trying to use magic and failed.  After a few more failed attempts he let out a frustrated yell.
   “Agh!  You pay for this, Owen Tucker!”
   Then he jumped back into his car and roared away. 

   The End!

The Magic Sword Thingy Gets a Name

   Magic!  Dude, that’s awesome.  Ain’t it?  I mean, it’s all magical like.  Owen Tucker, master magician.  Oh yeah.  That sounds good.  Got a nice oomph to it, don’t you think?  Oh hey, cool.  Oomph is actually a word.  That’s sweet.  I’m gonna have to use it a lot more often now. 
   Anyway, yeah, more cool magical stuff coming up in this here journal thingy.
   8/13/2012:  On this date (that being the 13th of August in the year 2012) I was feeling good.  I don’t know why, but the day just felt good.  Like it was special for someone somewhere. 
   Or it might’ve felt special because I just found out that I was in the possession of an item that gave me the power to use magic.  That might’ve had something to do with it.  But I doubt it.  Because this item could also talk, and it wanted me to use it for evil.  So not all fun and flowers. 
   “I’ll never use you for evil!” I protested.
   You gave your word.
   “Oh darn.”  I sat in a nearby chair.  “That does rather put a damper on it, doesn’t it?”
   No more stalling.  Evil awaits.
   I sighed. “All right, all right.  I’ll use you for evil.”
   With a glance around the room I knew what I must do. 
   I pointed the sword and yelled, “Fire!”
   The poor little cricket burst into flames and died with many screams and shrieks of anguish.  I covered my ears and closed my eyes to block out the terrible scene of agonizing death.  After a few seconds the sounds stopped and the flames receded, leaving behind nothing but a tiny pile of ash. 
   I heaved a huge sigh. “Whew.  Glad that’s over with.  Okay, now can we get down to the really awesome magic using business?”
   You have yet to use me for evil.
   I stared at it, aghast.  “What are you talking about?  Didn’t you see and hear how that poor cricket died?  I killed it in cold blood in the most horrible and awful manner ever.  Isn’t that evil enough for you?”
   Put simply.  No.
   “Then you, my glassish friend, are really very evil.”
   I am.
   “Pardan mah intarupptin’, but wha’ tha heck jest ‘appened there?”
   “Well I had to use the sword thingy for evil,” I began explaining. “So I had to kill that cricket, but now the sword isn’t satisfied so it’s being not nice and turns out that it is very really evil.  Oh wait, no, really very evil.  There we go.”
   There was a moment of silence before Wilfred replied.
   “Ef ya say so…”
   I waved the sword thingy with a fancy twirl. “Make it so that Wilfred can hear you too.”
   He can.  The wild flourishing is not necessary.
   I shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s cool.”
   No.  It is not.
   “Ya knoo, Ah thenk Ah’m gonna like thes thin’.”
   “Oh shut up,” I said.  “Before we go any further, you’re gonna need a name.”
   “Ah got a name.”
   I rolled my eyes. “Not you.  The sword thingy.  I can’t keep calling it the sword thingy.  So,” I held it at eye level. “What’s your name?”
   I have no name.
   “Awesome!  That means I get to name you.”
   “Oh dear.”
   The sword thingy and Wilfred spoke at the same time.  I ignored them and concentrated on thinking of fully awesome names.  It took me a few minutes, but eventually the perfect one came to me.
   “I got it!  From this moment forward you, sir sword thingy, shall be known as—drum roll please—Dave!”
   Silence greeted this statement.  I knew it.  They were struck silent in awe of the sheer brilliance and awesomeness of the name. 
   And so Dave joined the ranks.

   To be continued…

The Sword Thingy Speaks Up

   Okay, so maybe the last journal thingy didn’t explain how I, Owen Tucker, got Wilfred to shut up that one time, but this one will!  I know it.  I mean—I hope it will.  It should.  Almost definitely.  Probably a sure thing.  Should be in there somewhere. 
   8/9/12:  On this date (that being the 8th of August in the year 2012) I just found out that Howard has this awesome wishing staircase and I had wished myself and Wilfred to the bottom of it which rendered him speechless.  It was pretty sweet all in all.  Wilfred being speechless was probably the best part.  The wishing staircase was pretty cool too though. 
   Now back at the bottom I picked up the sword thingy before stepping out into the main house area and took a deep breath of—well, not exactly fresh air since it was the same stuff that was in the staircase, but it seemed different.  Somehow. 
   I looked down at the sword thingy. “I wonder what this thing is for.”
   “Ah’d say et were fa decoration.”
   The sword thingy flashed.  I am not decoration.  He is stupid.
   “Well then stop insulting people and tell me what you’re for,” I replied.
   Will you use me for evil?
   I groaned. “Yes!  Fine!  I’ll use you for evil if you’ll just tell me what you’re for.”
   I give the one who wields me the power of magic.
   I was skeptical to say the least. “Magic?  Really?  Pft.”
   You just wished yourself out of a staircase and you are doubting the existence of magic?
   “Yeah, well, that was, uh, different.”
   How?
   “That was wishing.  Which is totally different from magic.”
   How?
   “For one thing, wishes don’t come true.”
   There was silence, but if the sword thingy had a face, I’m pretty sure it would’ve been giving me that look.  Y’know, the one people give you when you tell ‘em a fairly obvious fib.
   “Okay fine.  So maybe wishes do come true.  So what?”
   The sword thingy flashed a sigh.  You shut the fly up earlier.
   “Pft.  That wasn’t magic.  That was my brilliant comeback.”
   You mean—Wilfred just be quiet?  That brilliant comeback?
   “Uh…  Okay, so maybe it wasn’t so brilliant.  But you can’t be serious.  I’m not gonna take off if I point you at myself,” I did so.  “And say fly.  Like this.  Fly!”
   I waited.  Nothing happened.
   “See?  Told you.”
   “Lad,” Wilfred interjected. “Ya meght want ta take a look at ya legs.”
   I looked down and gave a yelp.  I was several feet off the ground.  It was kinda scary.
   It took me a couple seconds to regain my composure enough to voice objects.  “Waaiiitt.  This ain’t flying.  It’s floating!”
   You have yet to choose your direction.
   “Oh.”  I thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Forward!”
   I shot forward and slammed my face into the wall.  Well, mostly my noise.  It hurt.  A lot.
   “Ow!”
   Then my nose started bleeding. 
   “Oh snap.  Put me down and fix my nose.”
   I dropped to the ground and this really weird tingly, popping sensation crawled all over my nose.  I wanted to rub it really bad, but I refrained because I was afraid that might hinder the healing process, and I like my nose.  It only took a few seconds, then the weird feeling went away.  Then I rubbed my nose.
   Are you a believer now?
   “Yup, sure am.”
   Good.  Now use me for evil!

   To be continued…

Stairs, Stairs, and More Stairs

   Okay okay.  I’m sure you’re all wondering how I managed to shut Wilfred up, so I’ll simply say that I am Owen Tucker (who woulda thunk it?) and that this is my journal thingy.
   8/6/12:  On this date (that being the 8th of August in the year 2012) I had just successfully stopped Wilfred from talking.  Pretty amazing, huh?  Note that I said talking.  He was still making loud, angry sounding buzzing noises, but I could ignore those real easy like.  So I did. 
   A quick look around the room showed me that there wasn’t anything else up there except the glass sword thingy, so I proceeded back down the stairs.  And down the stairs.  And down ‘em some more.  They just kept going and going and going and going and going and going and going!  How’d I get up them in the first place?  Eventually I stopped for a rest, just like last time.  Except now I was facing down, which was a little more depressing because the light wasn’t very bright at the bottom. 
   “Don’t these stairs ever end?” I asked of nobody in particular.
   Wilfred took it upon himself to reply with more buzzing.
   The glass sword thingy took it upon itself to flash.  Use me for evil.
   I glared at it. “Shut up.  You’re absolutely useless.  If you were any use at all, we wouldn’t be stuck on some endless stairway.”
   It flashed.  Use me for evil.
   In disgust I tossed it down the stairs.  It flew through the air with a fancy spiral and clattered to the bottom of the stairs, taunting me with an occasional shine.
   “That’s just rude!” I yelled at it.
   “Tuh, ya’re one ta talk.”
   “Wilfred?” I looked around surprised. “You’re talking again?”
   “Obviously.”
   “Cool.  Do you know how we get out of this place?”
   “Ah supoose ya culd jest toss ya’self down them stairs there.  Et worked fa tha sword.”
   “Do you have any idea how we get out without me ending up in the hospital?”
   “Nary a one.”
   I sighed and leaned back on the stairs, suddenly feeling very trapped, hot, and thirsty.  “I wish I had some water.”
   I sat up spluttering as splash of ice cold water hit my face.
   I coughed. “No no.  I meant I wish for like a bottle, not a freaking splash.”
   Lo and behold a bottle of water appeared in my hand.  I opened it up and took a chug.
   “Ah, that’s good.  Thanks.” I froze. “Waaaaiiitttt a second.  Where’d you get that water, Wilfred?  And how’d you carry it?”
   “Wha’re ya talkin’ aboot, lad?”
   “The water that just splashed me and this bottle,” I waved it around in the air. “Where’d they come from?”
   “Na a clue.”
   “Well they had to come from somewhere.  I wish I knew.”
   The sword at the bottom of the stairs flashed.  You wished them into existence.
   I stared at it.  “What are you talking about?”
   This is a wishing staircase.  You wished the water to you.
   “That’s awesome!  Wait, why are you helping me?  You just want me to use you for evil.”
   I’m sure the darn thing sighed regretfully.  You wished to know.  I was forced to explain.
   I grinned. “Cool.”
   “Lad, ya reelly need ‘elp.”
   “Wilfred, I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear that from my ‘hallucinations’ I have found out that this staircase is a wishing staircase.”
   “Oh?  An’ jest ‘ow da ya knoo thes?”
   “Watch.  I wish I had some ice cream.”
   A gallon of vanilla ice cream appeared on the stair beside me.
   “No no.  A gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream.”
   The vanilla disappeared, replaced with mint chocolate chip. 
   I grinned. “See?  How do you like that?”
   “Then geet us offa thes dern staircase.”
   “All right then.”  I stood up.  “I wish we were at the bottom of this staircase.”
   Bam!  We were at the bottom and Wilfred was speechless.  An awesome conclusion if I ever seen one.

   To be continued…

The Glass Sword Thingy in the Stone

   Dude!  This is Owen Tucker and the journal thingy this time is pretty awesome, if I do say so myself.  So I’ll just shut up and let you jump right into it.  In fact, I don’t even know why I said anything in the first place.  Hhhhmmm…  Oh yeah!  Now I remember.  I said something because I finally figured out what’s up with those time flux things.  They’re not time fluxes at all.  It actually happens because we aren’t in the same reality, you and me.  We’re in alternate realities, and somehow my blog posts are seeping through a crack in time continuum (or something like that) and you’re receiving them.  So it’s just the random time differences between our realities that are messing everything up. 
   Tada!  Problem solved.  Now here’s that journal thingy.
   8/2/12:  On this date (that being the 8th of August in the year 2012) I was at the top of a really long staircase staring a really cool looking thingy stuck in the middle of a really big rock, all of which was inside a room that, when I took a peek out a window, was really high up. 
   I walked over to the rock and took a closer look at the thing stuck in it.  At first glance it looked like some type of sword and I instantly thought that I had found the sword in the stone from those King Arthur legends.  But another glance told me that it wasn’t exactly a sword.  It was in the shape of a sword, yes, with the handle, cross guards, and all that, but the blade part was circular and the whole thing had a glassy look to it.  When I got really close though, glass was the wrong word.  More like solid water.  It had a concrete shape, obviously, since it was stuck in a rock, but I could see it moving within its shape.  Kind of like it was a glass container filled completely with water without air sockets.  It couldn’t be glass though.  I reached out to touch it and it felt soft and smooth against my fingers.  Nothing at all like glass.
   “Will ya jest toog et out already?”
   Wilfred’s voice jarred me out of my wonderfully peaceful examination of the sword looking thingy and I glared.  I didn’t have anything to point my glare at, but I glared all the same. 
   “I’m going to.  Gosh, you’re so impatient.”
   “Weel Ah wuld na be impatient ef ya wuld jest toog et out fasta.”
   “Fine.”
   I grabbed the handle and jerked the thing out of the stone.  It actually came out quite easily, and when it was all the way out I could see that only a few inches of blade had been stuck.  I held it up and let the sun glint through it.  Suddenly it was like the sun struck a mirror or something inside it and the whole thing flashed.
   Use me for evil.
   The voice rung through my head.  I glanced around.  My first thought was of Wilfred, but there had been no accent, so it couldn’t have been him. 
   “Wha was tha light?”
   I frowned.  “I have no idea.”
   The sword thingy flashed again and the voice repeated itself.
   Use me for evil.
   I stared at it. “Whoa!  Are you seriously talking?”
   “’Ave ya gone daft, lad?”
   “Shut up, Wilfred.  The sword is talking.”
   “Aye.  He’s gone daft.”
   Another flash.  Use me for evil.
   I frowned again.  “This thing really wants me to use it for evil.”
   “Wha’re ya talkin’ aboot?”
   “It keeps saying ‘use me for evil’.”
   “Are ya kiddin’ ma?”
   “No!  It really is!”
   “Now laddie, jest ‘cause ya’ve found ya’self a shiny tuy, tha’s na a cause fa ‘ullucinations.”
   I waved the sword around in a threatening manner.  At least, it would have been threatening if I knew where to threaten.
   “Wilfred, I’m not hallucinating!”
   “Et’s a’right, lad, Ah understand.  Ah’m ‘ere fa ya.”
   The sword quivered in my hand just a tad as I pointed it. “Wilfred.  Just be quiet.”
   To my surprise, it worked.  Wilfred remained silent.  Although there were a few muffled buzzing noises I couldn’t quite understand.

   To be continued…