Hey friend!
Welcome to the magical blog chock full of fantasy fun, The Diary of a Wizard. This week I’ve had some struggles with uninvited guests that I’ve had to deal with that gave me the itchy scritchies. You may not know much about that, but you probably do know, in The Enchanted Woods it’s bound to be crazy.
I awoke all hazy, later than usual, on Day One of the week. I felt kinda squiffy, like I’d been nipping the local elderberry wine again. What I couldn’t understand is I’ve been avoiding the elderberry wine for weeks after that last incident when I lost my book of chants and had to retrace my steps to find it. This was quite the adventure in and off itself, but not the tale I will tell this week.
Anyway, not only did I have a fuzzy head, but worse than that, my beard was itching like mad. It gave me quite the irritation. Maybe I was getting sick or something. Things were certainly strange, well, stranger than usual, at least.
I itched and scritched and scratched, until I was going wild. Maybe it was just my allergies playing up. It went like that all day and then all night, so much so, I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t get even a solitary wink the whole time.
I jumped out of bed with heavy eyelids. I was determined to get myself sorted as soon as possible. I send a magical mind message and made an appointment with the witch doctor for the afternoon.
I fetched my trusty magical steed, Horrace from the stable and we headed off, galloping through The Enchanted Woods. By the middle of the afternoon, we were there.
The witch doctor is a strange fellow, which should come as no surprise in the Enchanted Woods. Half human, half warlock, wearing a loin cloth and crouching in front of a huge wooden plate.
He asked me what my problem was and explained the itchy scritchies of my beard making sure I made eye contact the whole time. I dare not have glanced down, see, his loin cloth was a little short in my humble opinion and I was sure to get an eyeful of things I would rather not. Normally he’d do some spell or incantation but this time he just looked in my beard. He seemed to know what the problem was straight away.
“You have beard borrowers,” he said.
“Beard borrowers?”
“Yes, beard borrowers. They’re much like the borrowers that live beneath the floorboards, but these ones prefer to make home in a long beard.”
“Can you get rid of them?” I asked. “They’re driving me potty.”
“Normally, I’d poison them, and they’d bother you no more, but these are very rare and they’re on the endangered magical creature list so alas, I cannot.”
“What do I do then?”
“Frankly, not my problem, mate. You’ll have to find a way to persuade them out. But know this, if you kill or harm them in any way, you shall be cursed for a hundred lifetimes of the Earth as punishment.”
“Wow, that is a long time.”
Anyway, after my goodbyes and thanks for nothings, I was quickly back on Horrace and heading for home, a million thoughts rushing through my mind and a very itchy beard to boot.
I was more beaten than a beatnik’s bongo when I got back so I caught me 31 winks of sleepy time, but I woke up every 7 and a half winks all night long.
I was more awaker than an albatross on Adderall by the time dawn’s crack appeared. I needed to act and act at once before I went stark raving doolally with these itchy scritchies. Luckily, that was when I had a great idea.
It had been quite some time since my wizard apprenticeship, about 609 years in fact, but one of the early tests is to shrink oneself to a tiny size. I’d say about a beard borrower’s size as it goes. It only stands to reason that if I’m the same size as the beard borrowers, then surely, they won’t fit in my beard anymore and they’d just be standing there. And I wouldn’t kill or harm them that way, lest I get cursed for a hundred lifetimes of the Earth.
I had a might of trouble recalling the incantation to create the shrinking potion so to my total displeasure, I had to magical mind message The Grand High Wizard, and as we know from past experience, he’s a bit of a tool.
He banged on and on for ages about how stupid and forgetful I am, until his personal assistant handed him the relevant information about the incantation that he couldn’t remember himself. Only then did he pass it to my lughole.
I spent the entire aftermorning making the potion and by the afterafternoon it was ready to use. I drank a little bit and in an impressive explosion and a puff of blue smoke, suddenly, I was as tiny as a housefly. And just like that, I was standing there with a total of 26 beard borrowers in front of me.
“What’s going on here?” The leader of the beard borrowers asked. “Where’s our home gone?”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, but you were making my beard rather itchy.”
“Yeah, and? That’s what we do, mate.”
“Well, you were not invited to make house in my beard.”
“We never are. That’s why we’re endangered you see. Where do you suppose we should live then?”
That was when I had a great idea. I just had to check something with my trusty magical steed, Horace first.
After getting the go ahead from Horace I returned to the beard borrowers.
“Right, Horace said he’ll take you to your new home. He’s more than happy to help.”
“Is it another beard though, because nothing else will do?” The beard borrower asked.
“Yes, and it’s a magnificent beard. Even longer than mine is.”
“That sounds like an amazing home for the whole tribe!”
“Oh, yes. It’s the beardy equivalent of a mansion or castle. So, you can pick up your second cousins and other members of the family along the way. There will be enough room for hundreds of you. What you need to do is take Horace to this address,” I handed it a teeny tiny piece of paper, “and you will find the new beard there.”
“Who’s beard is it?”
“His name is The Grand High Wizard, and he lives in a mountainous fort.”
“Oh, okay. We’ll make ready and head off then. Sounds wonderful. Thanks, Mr Wizard!”
“I’m sure you’ll be very happy there,” I said as I waved them off.
They vanished into the distance to make the long trek to The Grand High Wizard’s mountainous home, where their new beardy dwellings would be. He can deal with the itchy scritchies now instead of me.
As I sat and pondered this week’s troubles, I must admit, I had a tiny prang of guilt. Maybe I shouldn’t have sent them to The Grand High Wizard but then, he does kinda deserve it. The guilt didn’t last more than 13 nano seconds though as I chuckled to myself and patted myself on the back for my own mischievous cleverness. With no more itchy scritchy in my beard, I got plenty of winks that night. That would be a luxury that the Grand High Wizard wouldn’t have for at least a while. Was I still feeling guilty after all the things he’s put me through? Not on your bloomin’ nelly.
Right I’m off to write some cool stories for you now. I hope the week brings you many winks but no itchy scritchies at all. Have a magical week.
See ya next time, friend!
BB
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Barry S. Brunswick is an author and best selling poet.
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