As writers we strive for perfection, a balanced flow of words that will hook the reader in. Writing can be such a serious hobby as we push forward to get all the words out. Growing up we are taught to strive for the best, work hard, and many of us have lost the art of play within the seriousness of adult life. I felt like playing today with words, and losing some of those preconceptions of how a story should go.
Just a forwarning, this story is rather pointless, and silly, and well, isn’t exactly something I’d normally want to publish, but I’m all for silly fun, and I’m not afraid to hide it =)
“A snow capped mountain is a glorious thing isn’t it dear sir?”
“Why yes Mr. Potts it is indeed. How fortunate are we to be able to come so far away to this land to bear witness to it all.”
“Well not without years of hard work Mr. Brown, after all if it weren’t for those natives slaving away on our plantations back in Malaya as we speak, we wouldn’t even be here. Although the shifty eyed locals certainly can’t be trusted, I don’t fancy having to pay a fortune to bring some distant relative or a jobless English chap over, after all, not many last in the stinking heat. The work is meant for local folk not for fine english Gentlemen like ourselves.” said Mr. Potts.
The two gentlemen continued their idle chitchat. They had rented a Ford motor car and with Mr. Potts large rump planted firmly behind the steering wheel, off they were to visit Mt. St. Helen’s. They had decided to leave their nimble fingered wives behind to play bridge and manage the domestic help, and vacation together in America where they had heard many a fine story from rowdy American sailors they had met on board ships over the years.
They had decided to stop for a light lunch of sandwiches they had purchased at a near by town cafe as they themselves were unable to cook despite the fact that their lodgings came with a kitchen. Mr. Brown s eyes followed an eagle soar across the sky and just as it disappeared from his view a crack was heard followed by a blinding light that brought irritated tears to their eyes.
“Good Heavens what was that?” cried Mr Potts, mayonaise dribbling down his chin.
“Why I do say, it was an act of God!” exclaimed Mr Brown who happened to be a God Fearing Christian and never missed church on Sunday’s.
Just as the light adjusted back to normal, and Mr Potts and Mr. Brown’s expression of shock started to fade, an old wizard stepped out of the woods and stood before them.
He had long silver hair, a pointy hat, and robes made of deer hide. Feathers dangled from his beard and his pink face had a particularly nasty sunburn on his pointed nose.
“Good day to you sir’s, I am Mordrid the great wizard, from Avalon, trained in the finest school of magic the kingdom has ever seen.” I seem to have gotten lost. Would you mind pointing the way to Camelot, I have some very important business to attend to there?
Mr Potts dropped his sandwich, his mouth full of half chewed food hung open.
“Is this some kind of an American joke?” Asked Mr. Brown in disbelief?
“I assure you it is not” said Mordrid. “What is an American, and who are you to question me? No one questions a wizard, surely you have met a wizard before?”
“You’re mad”, claimed Mr. Brown, “Why, Camalot is from a childrens tale. Surely you have spent far too long in these woods.”
Mr. Brown elbowed Mr. Potts who finally worked up the courage to speak “Yes, I am afraid you are in need of some assistance, it seems you’ve lost your mind!”
“Lost my mind? Certainly not, I have only just arrived here, and if you continue to not believe me, I shall turn you into a toad. I don’t like teaching people lessons the hard way, but it seems you lot are rather stubborn” said Mordrid rather calmly.
“Nonsense” Exclaimed Mr. Potts, turning quite pink in the face from the madness of the entire situation.
Sensing his frustration, Mordrid the Great turned Mr. Potts into a toad with a silent crack of lightening.
“Ribbit” Exclaimed a small green Mr. Potts from atop a half eaten sandwich.