From: "J.T. MartenTaur" Subject: SRU--Inventory Date: Thu, 20 Feb 1997 19:11:08 -0800 This is one I dreamed up this afternoon that kind of got out of paw. Sorry if I didn't stick to the rules or mood of Spells R' Us... I don't know them that well, and I also got a little carried away. :) Also, apologies made for using someone else's character, Nathan, without permission. I hope I didn't take his name in vain. Anyway, this is just for here and the TSA, if they like it. I hope you enjoy! :) Inventory from Spells ‘R Us --You never know what’s in-store. The little shop in the mall had a sign on it Saturday, and the sign said ‘Closed for Inventory.’ People who walked by the shop that day could hear strange noises coming from inside, and funny lights glimmered behind mysteriously darkened windows. Every now and again, something would bump against the door. This was especially odd, because no one who had ever noticed the shop could specifically remember it having a big, steel door that was welded shut. Being normal, reality-based, sensible people, they pretended to themselves that they hadn’t seen or heard anything. By the time they left the mall and got to their cars in the parking lot, they were shaking their heads and chuckling at their overactive imaginations. At that stoplight that refused to change green in less than ten minutes, their minds were wandering elsewhere, worrying about how they were going to get Tommy to soccer practice and still have time to return that eggbeater they’d borrowed from Mrs. Crenshaw. And then Rodriguez and his friends were coming for dinner, and by the time they actually reached their homes, they’d forgotten that the store had ever existed in the first place. Next day the shop reopened as usual, a little, old, grey-bearded man standing in a store that sometimes was full of every conceivable item in the world, and sometimes as empty and bare as old mother Hubbard’s cupboard. The old man was frequently brushing at his face today, as if something was twitching on the end of it, and he kept reaching back to scoot things out of the way, things that weren’t there. His wolf seemed a little skittish, too, and kept growling at empty air, and every time the wolf growled, the old man would glare fiercely at it, and the wolf would tuck its tail between its legs and slink off into a corner. The mall people never complained about that wolf, by the way. Oh, once they sent a security officer down to confront the old man about it, but it didn’t work out. The security officer ended up going chicken over the whole affair. After that he never really held his place in the pecking order. The mall ended up sacking him, and he ended up trying to wing it as a postal worker. You know those guys. They work for chicken feed. That day, Ryan came by with a special delivery for Spells R’ Us. It arrived in a box that was making gurgling noises. One end was dripping a purple fluid that grew fur on anything it touched. Little spots of fur grew out of the floor where it dripped, and one boy down the hall was looking at the bottom of his shoe in dismay. He had stepped in the stuff. Ryan held out the package to the old man. “Here you are, sir.” The old man peered out from under bushy grey eyebrows. “Eh? Oh, my Furtilizer. Thank you, young fella.” “Er...” Ryan paused. The purple fluid had run down the fronts of both forearms, dripped off the elbows onto his knees, and run down his shins, pooling on top of his feet. This produced a rather accentuating effect. “What you want, son? Waiting for a tip? Here’s a tip: shave off that fur; it looks ridiculous.” The old man scratched his head. “Actually, on second thought, it’s kind of attractive.” “Can I get it off?” Ryan asked hopefully. “Get it off? Well, I suppose you could put a little follicide on it. Might kill your skin, too, though, and if that stuff gets into the blood stream...” “Never mind,” Ryan stammered. “Sorry to have bothered you.” The old man’s face softened. “Sorry, son. I’m a little crabby--” he cut himself off, casting a nervous look at his magical stock. “Er, a little crank...” he cut himself off again. “A little grouchy this morning.” Ryan ran his fingers thoughtfully through the fur on his arms, unaware that his fingertips were fuzzing out a delicate growth, themselves. “Why? Did something unpleasant happen?” The old man coughed, and held a gnarled finger under Ryan’s nose. “I took inventory, which is unpleasant enough in itself. Tell me, lad. If you had a shop full of dynamite, would you be very, very careful when you took inventory?” Ryan rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then scratched an ear. New fur curled out. “I suppose so. Yeah, I’d definitely be really careful.” The old man cackled. “Of course, you would. Too bad I didn’t see it that way last night. Here, take a seat, son. Pull up a chair. Have you got a few minutes?” “Yeah, I guess I can spare a couple,” Ryan nodded, rubbing the back of his neck confusedly. Fur sprouted from his neck, and the purple fluid, eager to find new seeding grounds, trickled across his shoulders and down his back. He cast about for a moment, then noticed a chair and pulled it up. He sat down in it, hard, and it almost sounded like the chair said, “Ouch!” But that was just his silly imagination again. As he sat, the furtilizer on his legs oozed down and around the sides, neatly coating them. The old man fixed Ryan with a hard stare. “I was taking inventory last night, making sure my stock list was accurate...” As the old man spoke, Ryan could see in his head everything that had happened, like television for the brain. That would be an interesting television network, he thought absentmindedly. I bet it would be a major contender. ABC, CBS, and ESP... “Listen to what I’m saying,” complained the old man. “Sorry,” Ryan muttered, running his fingers nervously through his hair. Once again, the old man’s voice lulled him into a state of perception... “Let’s see,” the old man muttered, putting on his glasses and staring at a clipboard, on which were several pieces of paper covered with very bad handwriting. “Nathan, have you seen the bug juice around anywhere?” The wolf looked up, snorted, then laid his head back down. “Oh, you’re right,” murmured the wizard. “I sold it to that annoying reporter last week. Why must she have bugged me so? Well, insect aside, she got just what she wanted.” He continued to peer down shelves that might or might not have been there a moment before. “What is this? Oh, it’s my spell-finder. I thought I lost this years ago.” He chuckled to himself. “Look at that, Nathan, it was here all the time, right behind the vacuum cleaner.” He frowned. “Come to think of it, my vacuum is getting kind of dirty. Sudden decompression can really suck. Now what’s behind this door?” He opened a small door, and a very large Pac-Man nearly came out of it. “Merciful heavens!” the wizard shouted, slamming the door. “Remind me to get rid of that thing, Nathan. That’s a vicious circle I don’t want to get into.” The wolf rolled his eyes upward and sighed. The old man continued to rummage through his things, chuckling and mumbling to himself. “Oh, look at this, Nathan.” He turned around suddenly, holding a small, round, black object in his hand; a dark sphere about the size of a large fist. “It’s my truth orb. I thought I threw this out back in 1925. I really am quite the pack rat, aren’t I?” He turned around and put it back up on the shelf. Being round, it rolled down the length of the shelf into some corner and disappeared. “Blast it,” cursed the wizard, groping down the shelf after the thing. “Where did it squeak?” The wolf looked up, startled. “Go, I mean,” the old man corrected himself. “Where squeak it go?” He paused and looked at his hand, which was much narrower, and covered with gray fur. “Oh, dear.” “Nathan! Find squeak orb! The orb, I mean! Squeak it!” The wizard jumped and shouted, “Oooh!” as a long, thick, hairless tail dropped down out of his robe, the end twitching. “That was cold!” His nose began pushing outward and twitching spasmodically. “Where is squeak squeak?” Nathan looked over at the wizard, and something very innate woke up inside him. He growled at the old man. “No, Nathan! I’m not a rat, I’m a squeak!!” Nathan crouched menacingly, his lips pulled back in a snarl. “Oh, dear, oh dear,” muttered the wizard, gaining a little height as his legs became digitigrade. “Squeak happened to that orb?” Nathan pounced at the wizard, who squeaked, terrified, and leaped up onto the counter, knocking a whole pile of jars onto the floor. The wolf jumped after him, growling furiously. Paws scrabbled across the counter. The floor below began to become green and scaled, and rippled distressingly. Terrified, the rat-wizard made a terrific jump from the counter and landed on one of the shelves. He huddled there and squeaked furiously at the wolf, which paced below, trying to keep his footing on the scaled floor, which had now become alarmingly mobile and was watching them all with an enormous yellow eye. Trying to fend off the bristling canine, the wizard grabbed a miscellaneous vial and pitched it at Nathan. The vial shattered and its contents spread all over the wolf’s back. “Ha, ha!” shouted the wizard, momentarily holding back his squeaks, if not his desire to throw dangerous objects at the wolf. “Take that!” Nathan crouched on the floor, his shoulders twitching. Then, he gave a low, mournful howl as two huge, bat-like wings unfolded from his shoulders. He stood shakily, giving his wings an experimental flap. The wolf rose up into the air about a foot. He gave the intrusive rat a nasty grin. “Oh, fiddlesticks!” snapped the wizard as the wolf rose up in the air toward him, teeth snapping at the shelves. The floor was sprouting some unusual appendages with which it raked at the air. Some of these appendages looked capable of doing rather unpleasant things to a person. The wolf managed to grab the end of the wizard’s robe with his teeth, and began dragging the old man backward off the shelf. “Help! Help!” the wizard shouted, fruitlessly. Just then, a glimmer caught his eye. It was the truth orb! As the wolf dragged the wizard backward from the shelf, he seized the truth orb. Then he was dangling upside down from Nathan’s teeth as the wolf flapped about the ceiling. He clasped the truth orb in his hands, dodging to avoid a spiked tentacle which flailed toward his head. He addressed it. “Now, I am not a rat, I am a squeak!” At the exact second the word slipped out, the wizard disappeared, replaced by a loud squeaking sound that whirled desperately around the room. The truth orb dropped to the floor and rolled away. Nathan, suddenly unencumbered by the wizard’s weight, smacked into the ceiling, yelping. The ceiling crumbled slightly at the impact, a long crack spreading down the side and hitting the wall. It crawled along the wall until it hit one edge of the shelf support, causing it to fall from the wall. The entire contents of the shelf slid down its length and spilled over the end, just as the terrified, living squeak passed under it. “THANK HEAVENS!” A thousand voices said from all around the room at once. “MY VOX BOX SPILLED ON ME!” The voices collected around the orb, which was hiding under a desk. “EVERYTHING IS BACK TO NORMAL!” they shouted, and suddenly everything was. The wizard stood, shakily, holding the orb in his hands. He set it down hastily. He looked over at Nathan, who was resting peacefully. “That’s one dangerous object, Nathan,” he said, mostly to himself. “So you see,” the wizard explained to Ryan, “I’ve had quite a night.” Ryan nodded, scratching gently at his thick coat of fur. “But why couldn’t you use the truth orb to put the whole world just the way you wanted it?” he wondered. The old man’s eyes widened. “No, the orb’s much too dangerous to be used. I know that now. Besides, where would be the fun in just wishing for everything you wanted? What would you do then?” Ryan shrugged. “Well, maybe you’re right.” “Of course I am,” the wizard affirmed. He leaned back on his desk, his pinky brushing a small, dark, round object. “You know, you could be a very handsome cat-morph.” “Er, thanks,” Ryan said confusedly, his ears drawing up into points. Nathan looked up and growled. “Shush, Nathan,” the old man said, not noticing the long tail that curled down out of Ryan’s shorts. Ryan stared at his feet in amazement, as they stretched, became digitigrade. Suddenly Nathan rose up, a great grey fiend, and leaped at Ryan. Ryan yowled, and with amazing grace, pivoted and fled from the store. Nathan chased after him. “Nathan?” the old man called. “Nathan, where are you going? I need you to guard the store; I have a train to catch this afternoon! Nathan!” He suddenly realized what his fingers were touching and paled. Anyone outside the store would have heard a sound that distinctly resembled a locomotive falling from the sky and being caught by a very old man, who shouted, “Nathan! Get back here and bring me that orb! Nathan! I can’t just put this thing down! Nathaaaaaan!!!!”