Wanda's Magic Shop

"This can't be a real magic shop because magic doesn't exist," stated Mr. Putnam, glowering down at Wanda. Behind him, he could hear his wife and young daughter creating chaos in Wanda's Witchery Shop, not that he cared. He'd finally gotten his well-deserved break from his wife's complaining and daughter's whining. But the real reason he was here, something he'd only admit after several drinks (not that he had anyone to drink with), is that he wanted to yell at someone, anyone, who couldn't use it against him in a future divorce proceeding.

"Well... I... Actually..." stuttered Wanda, several beads of sweat appearing on her forehead.

"A sham, that's what this is. A sham! This whole shop is a clear case of deceitful advertising. I should sue you. Yes, that's exactly what I'm going to do. I'll drag you before a judge for hawking fake goods. You'll spend your nights in jail for the rest of your life. That's what scum like you deserve. No... No... You deserve far worse than that! If it wasn't for this country going soft, you'd get a public flogging. A few cracks of the whip is what hucksters like you need," proclaimed Putnam, stopping to take a deep breath.

Mrs. Putnam stealthily stuck her neck out from behind a nearby shelf and took stock of the developing situation. Putnam's neck vein was violently bulging and his face was already sunrise red. Yet again, this was going to end with the police being called to evict Putnam. But she was prepared, having already noted a cute coffee shop to bunker down in with her daughter to wait out this whole affair.

Wanda desperately tried to make eye contact with Mrs. Putnam, but she was an expert at dodging eye contact. The only person looking at Wanda was Mr. Putnam, whose large body and red face reminded her of a polar bear munching on an unfortunate seal.

"Are you going to say something? I'm your customer. You're supposed to help me. Well?"

Wanda could hear the desperate thumping of her heart pushing hot blood towards her fear-frozen brain. Darkness was steadily creeping into the edges of her vision. She could see the car was speeding towards her and knew her final moments were to be spent dying on the roadside, while Putnam complained about the dent on his bumper.

"MOVE!" screamed her brain, finally awake and full of adrenaline. Wanda bolted towards a nearby oak cabinet, wrenched open the door, and grabbed a small silver flask. Fumbling off the cap, she desperately downed the entire brew in ten seconds, pushing her tongue inside to get every last drop.

Putnam was now a ripe tomato red, ready to be plucked. His gaping maw unhinged, ready to bellow forth a torrent of anger. Seeing this, Mrs. Putnam grasped her daughter's arm and quickly led her out of the shop, ignoring her daughter's protests, complaints of pain, or the etiquette of closing the door.

"Now listen here! I'm not your therapist, psychiatrist, or even remotely interested in any of your problems. I'm here to sell magic items. Genuine magic items! If you don't want any, then get the hell out of my shop!" interjected Wanda, a combative scowl on her face and her arm menacingly pointing at the open door.

Putnam flinched, uncomfortable with the sudden pushback. But this momentary setback was quickly burnt away by his smoldering anger. He raised himself to his full height, towering over the tiny shop clerk.

"Magic isn't real!" bellowed Putnam, his hands loudly slamming onto the checkout counter. But Wanda didn't flinch, budge, or blink. She stared up bravely at Putnam, eyes aflame and spine steeled.

"I'll prove to you that magic is real. Just make sure you buy a lot so that you cover the excessive amount of time I've wasted on you," snapped Wanda, slamming her hands on the countertop. Putnam and Wanda locked eyes, each refusing to surrender the Western staredown.

"Fine," said Putnam, finally blinking to deal with his watery eyes.

"My pleasure," replied Wanda, eyelids still firmly fixed.

Wanda grabbed her water bottle and emerged from behind the relative safety of the counter. On a nearby spinning rack was a display of pins shaped like a water drop. She took one and handed it to Putnam.

"Put this on," ordered Wanda. Putnam complied, but not before throwing Wanda a doubtful look.

Once the pin was fastened on Putnam's shirt, Wanda unscrewed the top of her water bottle. She stuck her pointer finger into the bottle of water and then carefully extracted her finger. At the very end of her fingertip was one large water drop. Taking aim, she flicked her finger towards Putnam, sending the droplet missiling towards Putnam's dry shirt.

But just before the wet projectile hit its mark, the droplet suddenly changed direction, divebombing towards a harmless spot on the tile floor.

"Magic," affirmed Wanda, nodding her head contently.

"Magic? What magic?" questioned Putnam.

"Are you stupid and blind? Did you not see the water change direction? That's impossible under the laws of physics. The magic of the pin directed the drop towards the floor. Without it, you'd have a nice wet spot right in the middle of your shirt."

"Bullshit! That wasn't magic!"

"Yes, it is!" retorted Wanda, straightening her back as much as her tiny body would allow. "Watch! I'll do it again."

Another watery bomb went catapulting towards Putnam, destined to impact Putnam's shirt. But like before, the damage was deflected, sending the droplet careening away.

Putnam watched the whole event again, his hawk-like eyes tracking the drop. When the water suddenly changed direction, his perpetually furrowed brow eased and his eyes bulged a little larger than usual.

"That's magic?" asked Putnam, a note of genuine surprise in his voice.

"Magic," affirmed Wanda, a large grin on her face.

"Then why doesn't everyone use this magic pin instead of umbrellas or windshield wipers?"

"It only works for five drops of water each day," explained Wanda.

"Five?"

"Five," affirmed Wanda, continuing to smile.

"That seems mildly useful. So why doesn't everyone just have one?"

"Well, the problem is that people who wear the pin react slower to an oncoming storm since you miss the first few drops, meaning they frequently get drenched," explained Wanda.

"Oh..." replied Putnam, his brain slowly digesting what he just heard.

"THAT'S USELESS!!!" roared Putnam.

"THEN BUY SOMETHING ELSE!" roared Wanda, refusing to give an inch.

"THEN SHOW ME!"

"I WILL!" Wanda raced over to a nearby display, grabbed a pair of sunglasses, and handed them to Putnam. "These are see-through glasses. They allow you to see through solid objects."

"Anything?"

"Generally speaking, yes!" affirmed Wanda. A moment of silence passed between them while Putnam pondered the phrase generally speaking. With some hesitation, Putnam put the glasses on.

"This is incredible! All the shelves were removed, the magic items gone, and you're gone. All I see are the walls and door. Now this is magic. How do I adjust what is removed?" exclaimed Putnam.

"That's easy! All you have to change is what you desire. The glasses only remove what someone wants to see," explained Wanda.

"So it's useless?" accused Putnam.

"It's magic!" retorted Wanda.

"Show me something else. Anything else!" scowled Putnam. Wanda sent him a scathing glare, then vanished behind a nearby shelf. A few moments later, she returned with a heart-shaped bottle.

"While you wear this cologne, it makes whomever you're married to extremely horny."

Putnam's mouth fell open. He'd been suffering a marital drought for many years. Their marriage was only hanging by his credit card, which she was probably using at this very second to buy clothing or coffee. But perhaps they could have another chance to remember that same feeling they had the first time they secretly made love while her parents slept upstairs.

"What's the catch?"

"It also makes you impotent."

"IS MAGIC ALWAYS SO USELESS?" exclaimed Putnam.

"Don't blame magic for always having catches that outweigh the benefits. That's how it works," explained Wanda.

"Then why would anyone EVER use magic?"

Wanda took in a deep breath, got on her tiptoes in a vain effort to get as much height as she could, and locked eyes. She opened her mouth, ready with the perfect rebuttal.

Then the liquid courage she drank earlier predictably stopped working, since it always failed at the most inconvenient moment. Wanda's body began to shake in fear, darkness narrowing her vision.

She dashed to the countertop and flung herself over the top, landing with a loud crash. She started rummaging, eventually emerging with a bronze oil lamp. She frantically rubbed it, and the lamp began to glow.

"I wish you'd leave my shop!" yelled Wanda. A strong wind suddenly filled the shop. Putnam tumbled backwards towards the open door, unable to brace himself. He clung to the front door frame, fighting the wind. But his grip slipped and he went tumbling head over heels onto the sidewalk.

Putnam stood up, dusted himself off, hatefully glaring towards the smug store clerk. This whole adventure had left him angrier than before, but he felt like a fool. Instead of going back inside, he decided to track down the shop his wife was holed up in and yell at that store owner instead.

But a strange pricking began to work its way through Putnam. A tingling, energetic feeling started to work its way up his body, dispelling his desire to retreat. Putnam felt strangely alert, motivated, and compelled to act. His face turned poison apple red, his hands balled into miniature wrecking balls, and his lungs filled with twice what he could typically hold.

"YOU WANT ME OUT OF YOUR SHOP! FINE! I'LL BE BACK EVERY SINGLE DAY UNTIL YOU SHOW ME ALL THE HUNDREDS OF USELESS ITEMS YOU HAVE. THEN, I'LL HAVE YOU ARRESTED FOR SELLING DANGEROUS GOODS! SEE YOU TOMORROW!" yelled Putnam.

He watched Wanda violently shake, then collapse in terror. He grinned and began looking forward to tomorrow.