Wizzo

Roger Noons

a glass of magic potion from a secret recipe

 

‘You mustn’t laugh at me,’ I told my wife as she gazed through the bedroom window. ‘I’m Wizzo the Wizard, I’ve a pointy hat with a W on it.’

 

    ‘You can’t wear that in bed, so your spells won’t work. Besides, I’m a witch so you’ve no power over me.’

 

    ‘I have … for twenty minutes. I could turn you into a cat and send you off to catch a mouse.’

 

    She shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t do that, it’s cruel.’

 

    ‘A terrier then, to yap outside. Wake up Mr Edwards.’

 

    ‘He’ll be up and about by now, it’s eight o’ clock.’

 

    ‘I don’t think I’m much good as a wizard, am I?’

 

    She leaned over and kissed me on my forehead. ‘Be a good retired wizard and I’ll go and fetch the paper and magic up a cup of tea for you.’

 

    ‘Thank you dear,’ I smiled.

 

    She said a rude word as she walked downstairs. I’d twitched my nose and heard the pearls from the string around her neck drop into the hall and bounce around on the laminate flooring.