A Wizards Short Tale

As a rule, Wizards don't knock. The Dark Magus destroyed the steel bound oak door with a look. He entered the tower clothed in an oily blackness, and his every step polluted the land. When he spoke it sounded like a thousand snakes in a chorus.

"I have come for you old man! You'll die at my hands a hundred times. Every death will be unique. Every death will be a horror beyond imagining. Your immortal soul will be the dark canvas upon which I create my greatest work."

It was then that the Dark Magus noticed the note floating down from the door that used to exist. It read, simply, "Wizard out to lunch. Back in a bit."

"Damn it." The Dark Magus said, in a voice that sounded more like a middle aged dentist who could not find his favorite drill. "No sense of the moment."

The Dark Magus, whose name was Bertrand, looked around.

"Nothing to do but wait." he said.

He walked up the stairs at the center of the tower, shrugging off traps, hexes, and runes as if they were not there. When he smelled pie he turned and opened the door. There were two fruit pies cooling in the kitchen. Being evil, he immediately grabbed one and sat at the table.

"I swear on what is left of my soul that if these are peach the old man will suffer."

A quick slice confirmed that they were, in fact, berry. A quick bite confirmed that they were , in fact, delicious.

As Bertrand, Lord High Master of the Dark arts enjoyed his pie he heard a pathetic mewling. He spotted a skinny tabby that had mosied under his seat. Bertrand stared at it. The beginnings of a plan formed. He was evil, and he would do evil things.

He sized up the pie plate. A cat, properly prepared, would just fit. He cackled evilly, with the air of one who really practiced his cackle. He walked over to the scullery and washed the pie tin. The cat purred and rubbed itself across his feet. He grabbed a handful of carrots, onions and peas from the pantry. The cat watched with interest as he peeled, diced, and prepped.

The cat watched sat on the counter and watched him heat up a pot with the vegetables, sauteing them until they were soft. It purred happily as the room filled with the smells.

The cat followed him curiously as Bertrand, slayer of the Demon Xxoxxhv also known as The Unpronounceable, grabbed a skinning knife. It purred as Bertrand put his hand under its chin, his other hand raised to strike.

It was at this moment that Nimzi completed Ashnod's inadvertent acceleration, and subsequently the Dark Wizard Bertrand hit the wall at a speed normally associated with rockets and bad news. To say he did not survive would be giving up an opportunity to describe the carnage in graphic detail. But he did not survive.

Nimzi licked her paw, acutely aware of the work in front of her. It would take her all day to clean herself now. The old wizard would be home soon, and doubtless confused about the state of his kitchen and the fate of his beloved pies. It would probably be best to be both clean and innocent looking before that happened.

Which was a shame, because she had very much wanted to read today. But it couldn't be helped. Some things were more important than her studies.