Magic is Real

"Magic is real." This wasn't what I expected when the older boys invited me to join them under the bleachers after school. I thought they'd offer me a smoke or a drink, to see if I was cool, or it'd all be a trick and they'd beat me up and put my underwear in a girl's locker or something.

"What?" I said.

"It's real," Joe said again. "But you have to earn it. Do you want to earn it, Sam?" I looked around the boys' faces. Joe was intent on my decision. Allen and Dan watched me. Dennis looked from me to Joe and back. Ben looked disinterestedly off to the side.

"Told you letting him in was a mistake," said Ben.

"No, no, I'll do it. Earn it, I mean." I looked at everyone. Most of them smiled. Ben rolled his eyes.

"Okay," said Joe. "What you gotta do, the first trial, is to hold your breath as long as you can. You'll know it's long enough when you start to float. Try it."

I held my breath as long as I could, then gasped for air. Ben snorted. Joe said, "You'll have to do better than that if you want to earn it, Sam."

"Told you he couldn't," Ben said. "Let's get out of here."

"No," I said, "I can do it." Before they could speak, I took a deep breath and held it. I stared into Joe's eyes as I did. Every time I thought I had to gasp, I exhaled a little instead. The world became fuzzy around the edges. I thought I heard someone say, "Shit, he's going to..." That's right, I thought, I'm going to do it. I felt myself start to float.

I woke up with my underwear missing.

The Royal Prerogative

"Pooping is such a relieving activity," said the Queen. "It is so pleasant that I wish to have more of it." She summoned her councillors and scribes and drafted a new law, a tariff that granted the Queen a small part of each citizen's pooping. "This is truly wonderful," she declared during one of her several daily visits to the toilet. "If only everyone could be so blessed!" She shared out her wealth of pooping with her favorites in court, but they made little use of it. The palace hired more chambermaids.

"More pooping," roared the Queen after one particularly satisfying session on her throne. "I must have all the poop!" She raised her tariffs and taxed her subjects into pooping paucity.

They petitioned her. "We needs our shits, y'Majesty," they cried, but the Queen threw them in prison for interfering in affairs of state.

There in the bowels of the castle formed the rebellion that would topple the Queen, known only as the Movement.

Sweet Tooths

"Mom, don't you want more ice cream than that?" Jenny peered into Janice's bowl, then into her own, comparing. "No, this is enough for me, thanks." Janice smiled and set the baby monitor on the table with their bowls.

"But Derek—" an older neighbor boy, "—said older kids get more ice cream, 'cause they're bigger. Don't you want more, 'cause you're bigger?"

"I guess my sweet tooth has gotten smaller as I've gotten older. I want less ice cream."

"What's a sweet tooth?"

"It means how much you want to eat sweet things. The bigger your sweet tooth, the more you want to eat ice cream and candy and other sweet things. My sweet tooth used to be bigger. When I was young, I had a huge sweet tooth, like you."

Jenny thought about this. "Why did your sweet tooth used to be bigger, Mommy?"

"Oh, I don't know." Janice grinned. "Probably to keep me eating ice cream so I didn't try to eat you before you were too big to gobble whole."

Just then Jenny's little sister toddled into the room, awake after her nap.

"Run!" shouted Jenny. "Run before she eats you! Her sweet tooth is too small!"

Smoke on the Horizon

When a pillar of smoke rose on the horizon, everyone feared its portent. The name of the dark wizard Tower was on every tongue, but only Umber volunteered to go and see what had happened. The blacksmith gave her the finest sword from the forge, and the farrier reshoed her horse for the ride. Umber rode directly for the smoke, and when she neared she saw it was a village. Every building but the church was smoldering charcoal. The church stood untouched, a black horse clad in red livery stood tied to a post outside. Drawing her sword, Umber entered with light feet.

The woman sat in the next-to-front pew, dusty boots up on the pew in front. Umber crept into the pew behind and put her sword to the woman's throat.

"Before you cut," the woman said, "know that I gave the folk of this town warning before I put their homes to the flame. All lived."

"So you're working against Tower, then."

"I've worked my way into her trust. The things I've done..." she sighed. "It was worth it. Listen, her plan is—"

Umber cut the woman's throat ear to ear. "It's okay," she said. "I already know."

Attack on the Surprise Genie

She sat a quiet room, warmly embraced by an overstuffed chair and curled up around a large book. Her breath and occasional brush of paper were the only sounds. Turning another page and releasing a held breath, she murmured her satisfaction. "I wish this book would never end." She made it another page before the violet smoke filling the room caught her attention.

"I grant your wish!" A man stepped out of the mist, muscled chest bare beneath his big beard and shining white grin. "It is done!"

"What?" she said, then looked down at the book. "No." Her voice rose sharply as she saw the number of pages between her and the back cover growing. "I don't want to be reading this book forever!"

"You should be careful what you wish for, then!" The genie leaned in and winked. "You just might—"

"I wish there was no genie," she shouted very fast.

His grin vanished as his jaw dropped. Wide open eyes looked into hers, and she couldn't look away. His face quivered.

The man stood up straight and swung his arms wide. "It doesn't work that way!" He grinned, and the mists engulfed him and he was gone.

A Touchy Subject

James Flagston, attorney-at-law, walked into his office and sat down. "Sorry about that, Mr. Gilbert," he said. "Now what can I help you with?" "I think I have a workplace sexual harassment case," said Gilbert. "My boss touches me inappropriately and, um, makes me uncomfortable. It really impacts my work."

"I'm sure it does," Flagston said soothingly. "It sounds like an obvious case of harassment to me. Have you made it clear that your boss's advances are unwelcome? And is your employment at risk?"

"Well, no. I mean, yes, I've made it clear that it's inappropriate, but I'm not in danger of losing my job. I just... have to put up with it, I guess."

"Of course you don't. We'll have a suit filed in no time, and that'll make the transition to a new workplace easier."

"Oh, no, I don't want to work somewhere else."

"Trust me, it never works out, staying on after a harassment suit. It's uncomfortable for everyone."

"But I can't leave. I'm self-employed."

"You're self... what? Then who's harassing you?"

"I keep touching myself during work hours. It's not appropriate."

Flagston stood up. "I can't help you."

"I just want it to stop."

"Please leave."

Return of the Surprise Genie

Sweat soaked Laurie's running clothes. It dripped from her nose when she bent over, breathing heavily. She looked up at the steep stairway between her and the end of her run. "God, I wish there weren't so many stairs." She started up them. As she ran, a mist gathered. She noticed about halfway up as the bright morning sun faded behind purplish mist. Within a few heartbeats she could barely see the steps under her feet.

A muscular, shirtless, bearded man stepped out of the mist in front of her. Laurie almost fell back down the stairs. "Your wish," he boomed out, "is granted!"

"Uh, what?" Laurie jogged in place.

"Now there are not so many stairs!" The man clapped and vanished. The mist receded in a few eyeblinks, and Laurie could see again. At first she thought the steps were gone, and she jogged forward slowly until she noticed a new wall.

She stopped jogging. The genie had left the handrails along the stairs, but in place of a couple hundred broad steps were four enormous steps covering the entire ascent. She couldn't get up.

"God damn it," she said, heading for the side to climb up the hill.