The Diary of a Wizard – Week Thirty

Diary-of-a-Wizard-by-Barry-S-Brunswick-30

Hey friend! This week is the week of love and on the best blog for magical mayhem, I’ll be making some matches. No, not matches for fire, I can make fire with a click of my magical fingers, matches of love I mean. The Grand High Wizard needs a date for Valentine’s night. It looks like I’d better put my match making hat on, under my pointy one of course.

The Valentine’s Special: The Hopeless Romantic: Day One

First thing this morning I was awakened by The Grand High Wizard banging on my door. Word had got out to him, that last week my sea spell handbook had been stolen (Check it out here if you missed it). He red-faced ragily ranted for an age, as if he never makes mistakes. I had to make sure I didn’t roll my eyes for him to see, it was getting so tiresome.

Then eventually the real reason he was here became clear and he was going to use my mistake as leverage. He wants me to help him get a date for Valentine’s Day, and he’ll stop yelling at me if I agree to. This time I really did roll my eyes.

I have made matches before, believe it or not back in week 8 when I had to help find a suiter for the princess, (check it out if you missed it) so I’m not a stranger to such things. But frankly the GHW (Grand High Wizard) is so ugly, he could eat an apple through a tennis racket, and he has the charm of a belching swamp toad. This is gonna suck big time!

He’s staying here and we’ll start bright and breezy in the morrow. Can’t wait! That was sarcasm by the way.

The Valentine’s Special: The Hopeless Romantic: Day Two

The first thing when it comes to making matches is to know what kind of match it is they wanna make, so I asked GHW if he had anyone he was sweet on. He gave me a list of 3 possible matches. I suppose if you keep throwing snail slime at the wall, eventually something’s gonna stick.

“It needs to be special, to speak to her soul,” he said. “Poetry, Oh yes! Poetry is the key. I’ll write some poems and you can deliver them to my potential loves.”

I better get my trusty magical steed Billy, the oversized talking cockney mountain goat ready, I feel like we’re gonna be riding all over, delivering what are sure to be 3 yucky Valentine’s Day love poems. (Check out some more Yucky Valentine’s Love Poems here.)

I left GHW scribbling and ripping up bits of paper, swearing and sometimes even shaking his fist in a frustrated manner. I don’t think he’s very good at poetry somehow.

The Valentine’s Special: The Hopeless Romantic: Day Three

Bright and breezy in the morn, somewhere near dawn’s crack, GHW shook me awake, handed me a cup of toadstool tea, and excitedly gave me a satchel with 4 scrolls in it. Each scroll was clearly labelled to each potential date, and also a map to show me where to go. Date night is on Day 6 of this week. I better get my magical butt in gear and leave immediately and at once, no time to dilly dally.

Firstly, I had to meet Agnes who lives beneath the old oak tree. (I wrote a chapter in book 2 of my fantasy adventure Dreamland Trilogy about the old oak tree, check it out here.) I arrived at tea- time and she made me a snack most kindly indeed. After my tummy was tight and my whistle wetted, I stood up, cleared my throat, and read aloud the poem addressed to Agnes. It went like this:

“Your eyes are the colour of the bluest sky
Your hair the colour of gold
Tall and slender and pretty as hell
And you dress better than a troll
And every time I see you
My legs they melt like butter
My head it goes all dizzy
Cos my heart’s all gone a-flutter”

Agnes ripped the scroll from my hand and tore it to shreds, I mean you may think it’s not that bad, but it is when you consider that she has brownish hair, brown eyes, she’s pretty short, and not that slender it’s not great. The only thing he got right was the fact she does indeed dress better than a troll. I’m guessing that’s a no from her then.

I’d better tell GHW the bad news via mystic mind scroll and carry on to the next destination bright and breezy in the morrow.

The Valentine’s Special: The Hopeless Romantic: Day Four

As you probably guessed GHW blamed my delivery of his poem when I read it, as opposed to the content of said car crash of a poem, or dumpster fire, or maybe train wreak, or something else that’s just horrendous for his failure to get a date. It would probably help if he’d ever actually looked at her.

Anyway, I had to go to the banks of the babbling brook today to meet Mildred, so I set off somewhere near dawn’s crack cringing all the way, certain that I’d be reading some more funny Valentine’s Day love poems when I arrived.

I got there around lunchtime and Mildred made me a sandwich and a cup of tea, only when my tummy was tight and my whistle wetted, did I stand up, clear my throat, and start to read the poem addressed to Mildred. It went like this:

“Apples are red
They go in my tunmmy
when I stand near you
It makes me feel funny

The trees are all green
And so is a frog
Come round to mine
And I’ll give you a snog”

Mildred ripped the scroll from my hand and tore it to shreds. This seems to be becoming a recurring theme.

She said,” Ewwwwwwwww! Gag! If he was the last Grand High Wizard on Earth, I’d rather kiss the frog. (Read a poem about kissing frogs) He’s totally gross and like 700-years-old and I’m only 33. It’d be like dating my great great great great great great great great grandfather or something!”

I’ll take that as a no then. I can safely cross Mildred off the list. I guess I better report back to GHW and tell him wassup. Then I’ll head off for the final destination bright and breezy in the morrow and hope he has better luck there.

The Valentine’s Special: The Hopeless Romantic: Day Five

Of course, GHW blamed me once again for his failure to get a date cos I was looking all scruffy and dishevelled apparently. The words pot and kettle spring to mind. Like it had nothing to do with the content of his gross poem or anything. Today I’m to “comb my hair and make myself presentable” or so I’ve been told. Maybe he should just do this himself if I’m so bad at it.

Looking dishevelled it seems is what I should be doing for the next on the list. Her name is Splug and she lives in a hovel in the shadowy part of the woods, which is a little bit darker than the shady part of the woods. Now, the name “Splug” sounds pretty trolly, and living in hovel is even trollyer, and in the shadowy part of the woods is the trollyest of all, so I think odds are, she’s maybe a troll.

I arrived mid-afternoon to avoid any snacking with Splug. Trolls do eat the most disgusting things. I stood up, cleared my throat and read the poem that was addressed to Splug. It went like this:

“Your eyes are the colour of the greyest concrete
Your hair the colour of mould
Tall and muscular and ugly as hell
And you dress just like a troll
And every time I see you
My legs they melt like butter
My head it goes all dizzy
Cos my heart’s all gone a-flutter”

Splug ripped the scroll from my hand and tore it to shreds.

Spitting slimy saliva everywhere, she said, “I don’t wanna dates the funny little wizard thingy, I wants to eats him for a snack I says. I’ll pop him like a peanut, crunch him up and chucks him in me belly I wills.”

Okay, I’ll take that as a no then. I think I’d better warn GHW probably not to go near this one in case he does indeed get “popped like a peanut”.

Man, now I’ve gotta tell him he won’t have a date at all. He’s gonna red-faced ragily rant at me again no doubt. I’ll mystical mind scroll him tonight, and then head back bright a breezy in the morrow to face the music.

The Valentine’s Special: The Hopeless Romantic: Day Six

Yep, GHW blamed me again. He said I shouldn’t have made him sound so tasty, but somehow took that to mean his terrible Valentine’s Day love poem has worked, in as much as it made her like him, but just a little bit too well in as much as she wants to eat him.

I arrived back at my place where he was waiting for me. To my surprise he didn’t red-faced ragily rant at me. What he in fact said was, “Oh, I don’t want a girlfriend anyway, they’re too much hard work. Now I’m doing what I really wanted to do anyway, and that’s going to the movies with Mother.”

With that he left looking rather snooty and pretending he wasn’t bothered. I’m pretty sure he cried as soon as he closed the door though.

I’m glad he’s out of my house and this whole stressful episode is over.

The Valentine’s Special: The Hopeless Romantic: Day Seven

Well, it’s been quite the week in the world of wizards but now I’m gonna write some cool romantic stories for you. Ha ha! Only joking, I’m not writing all that slushy stuff.

I did have a hot date last night, but mine was with a cup of coca!

I hope the week ahead brings you love, sunshine and rainbows.

See ya next week friend!

Barry S. Brunswick is an Author and Best Selling Poet.
Have you read Barry’s blog about the Fantasy Series?
You can buy his books on Amazon: 
Dreamland Part 1 – The Fabric of Dreams
Dreamland Part 2 – The Masters of Light

Dreamland Part 3 – The Veil of Shadow
The War of The Turnips
Barry Brunswick’s Tall Tales – A Short Story Collection

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