CLIMBING the 7, 000-foot high mountain wasn't easy going, as most folks surely know, but the man was determined. No matter what, nothing was going to prevent him from seeing the Wizard. Nothing. Not a mere mountain, that's for sure.
He had the thousand dollars, right there in his back pocket, and right in the old wallet, that the Wizard had stipulated he needed before he would perform his marvelous magic. It had taken him two years to save it up, and that fact, too, now inspired him to climb.
Finally, he was at the top. He could see the Wizard's castle-style house off in the distance. Funny, he thought, it looks a lot smaller than in its catalog picture. Oh, well, I guess even Wizards let their ad people hype it up somewhat.
He started walking toward the house, and as he walked, he noticed the house getting even smaller, which should have been, to his humble way of thinking, the other way around. My God, he thought, by the time I get there, at this rate, it will have disappeared completely!
It didn't do that, but it did seem strangely small for a large castle-type house. When he was at the front door, a heavy wooden door with a large old-fashioned brass knocker hanging on it, he saw that he would have to stoop down just to enter.
Wizards, he thought, are weird. He lifted the knocker and banged it, quite forcefully, against the wooden door three times. It made a hollow sound, as if someone had hit an empty barrel with a soft mallet. Thwump. Thwump. Thwump.
From somewhere inside the house, he heard a voice yell, "Enter, you oaf! The door's not locked, you moronic idiot!" Rude fucker, the man thought as he pushed on the heavy door, bent down, and then went in.
The inside of the place was something else altogether. It was a hodge-podge of colors, as if some demented interior decorator had decided it would be so much fun to use every color in the rainbow, and more than once. But, to the man, it also had a strange hominess to it. This is the kind of place a man, he mused, could feel right at home in. Especially when sitting in one of the two plush chairs that look to be about the size of a car.
The same voice he had heard before, yelled again, "Up here, you dolt!"
There was a flight of stairs directly in front of him that had a strange perspective to it. Instead of getting narrower at the top, the steps appeared to get wider as they progressed upward. They looked as if they had been constructed upside down. But, as he climbed them, they felt absolutely fine. Normal even.
When he reached the top, he looked back down. What he saw didn't surprise him in the least. The stairs now looked wider at the bottom.
"In here, you big fucking doofus!"
He followed the nasty voice to a room less than fifteen feet from the stairs. At the door, he carefully peeked in. And there he was, the Wizard. Bare assed naked, with a large beaker in his left hand, and a wizard's typical tall conical cap on his head. The cap was covered with what seemed to be all the letters of the alphabet, and they seemed to be constantly changing. The letter B, in a flash, became a Q, and then, just as quickly, turned itself into an N. All the letters were doing this, in this willy-nilly, makes-no-sense-at-all manner.
"Nice hat," the man said matter-of-factly as he entered. "Too bad you can't have it spell anything sensible. You could make a fortune in advertising!" He chuckled.
The Wizard poured some vile looking green stuff into a large beaker, and then said, "Oh, yeah? How's this?" He waved his free hand around in the air three times, in a circle fashion.
The conical cap now spelled out, "Fuck you, Shithead!" The man went closer, for a better look-see, as there was now something odd about the way the letters looked. They were wiggling around, as if alive.
At two feet from the Wizard, the man noticed that the letters were being formed by living ants. Thousands of them, and all running frantically around to find their proper place in the order of things. It looked like organized chaos.
"Amazing, Wiz, absolutely amazing! I am indeed impressed. But, besides parlor tricks like this one, and before I fork over a thou of my hard-earned cash to you, how do I know this isn't just some magician's illusion, a smoke-and-mirrors piece of bullshit, and you're no more a real Wizard than I am?"
"You looking for proof, you snotball? From me? The greatest Wizard in the entire universe? The guy who taught Merlin how to spell magic? The dumb fucker always put a K on the ass end! Why, you schmuck, I even have Satan on my client list. And he ain't too easy to please, let me tell you."
The man said, "Yeah, yeah, but so the fuck what? Who cares? What I wanna know is, Wizzy, can you do magic spells, real magic spells, the kind real Wizards are known to do. For if you can't, old man, I'm outta here!" He now stared defiantly at the Wizard.