Insanely Inappropriate Magic - Preview
Prologue
When destiny knocked on Chauncy Little’s door, his four-year-old son Chaos decided he’d better answer it for his daddy.
Chaos happened to be in bed at the time, and should have been fast asleep, considering it was quite late at night. But Mommy and Daddy had been wrestling rather loudly in their bedroom again, for nearly an hour at that. Which was a bit irresponsible if you asked Chaos, for Mommy was nine months pregnant and ready to pop.
In any case, Chaos was thusly awake at the time of destiny’s knock, and being less distracted than his parents, he managed to hear it.
He considered going to his parents’ room and interrupting their session, but Daddy always got really mad when he did. So Chaos took it upon himself to be a good little Chaos Little and answer the door himself. Out of bed and down the hall he went, then down the stairs to the foyer. And promptly unlocked the door, swinging it open to see who was on the other side.
Which was, he found, a weird old man. One quite tall and bony, with a long white beard. And wearing a blue robe and a pointed blue hat, carrying a staff with a blue crystal on top.
“Who’re you?” Chaos demanded.
“My name is Imperius Fanning,” the old man answered in a deep, powerful voice. “I…”
“What do you want?” Chaos interjected. Rudely, but to be fair, it was way past his bedtime. Imperius grimaced, clearly not appreciating being interrupted.
“To speak with your father,” the old man replied.
“He’s busy,” Chaos informed him.
“It’s important,” Imperius shot back.
“It’s late,” Chaos countered.
“He’ll understand, I’m sure,” the old man counter-countered. “Can you get him?”
“No.”
Imperius blinked.
“Why not?” he pressed.
“He’s wrestling,” Chaos explained. Which apparently wasn’t explanation enough, for Imperius blinked again.
“Wrestling?”
“Mommy,” Chauncy clarified. Which seemed to do the trick, for Imperius’s eyebrows rose, and his confused expression turned into a bemused one.
“I’m afraid this is more important than…ah…wrestling,” he declared. “Please get him for me.”
Chaos considered this.
“No,” he replied.
“Why not?”
“I’m not supposed to interrupt when they’re wrestling,” Chaos stated. “It’s a Rule.”
“Rules are well and good,” Imperius conceded, “…but at times they need to be broken.”
“Bye,” Chaos said, and promptly shut the door in the old man’s face. Or rather, he would have, had Imperius not managed to wedge the butt of his staff in the door. The old man promptly yanked the door open, glaring at Chaos.
“Young man,” he stated. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
“No.”
“I am a wizard of the Order of Mundus,” Imperius declared imperiously, standing tall with his shoulders thrust back proudly.
Chaos just stared at him.
“I’ve come to speak with your father about his destiny,” Imperius explained. But at this point, Chaos had stopped paying attention. It was really quite late, and he was really quite tired. And as his mommy and daddy had often told him, Chaos got pissy when he was tired.
“Go away,” he ordered.
“Young man,” Imperius began. And then began to tell some sort of terrible tale. But while Chaos heard each word, he was no longer listening, because he was done with the man. And while Imperius was bigger and stronger than Chaos, and had a staff still wedged in the door, Chaos had something Imperius didn’t.
He focused on the man, on his very essence, his eyes narrowing as he did so. And while Imperius blabbed on, Chaos did a little demonstration of his particular brand of magic. For it just so happened that he was a wizard too.
His magic, as fate would have it, was chaos…the creation of a cosmic surprise. What that was, there was no way to know…for with Chaos, mystery was quite literally where his magic was.
“…destroy everything you know and love!” Imperius finished ominously, fixing Chaos with a dramatic scowl.
Right as a meteorite smashed into him from above.
The porch exploded, and Chaos flew backward through the foyer, all the way to the kitchen beyond. His back slammed into the cabinets, the door flying off its hinges, and every last window in the house shattered at the same time.
Chaos gasped for air, staring at the now-doorless doorway, where Imperius had been standing a split-second ago. All that remained was a massive hole in the porch, to Chaos’s horrified surprise.
And that, dear reader…well, it’s pretty obvious what I’m going to tell you next. By this point you’ve followed quite a few of these adventures, and have apparently had the questionable judgement to do so a fifth time. Still, for the sake of sentimentality, as well as a hankering for consistency, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:
And that, dear reader, was how the end of the world began.
Chapter 1
It’d been nearly nine months since Chauncy Little’s last adventure, when he’d been thrust into a quest to save the magical kingdom of Pravus from certain destruction by the Evermore Trading Company. In doing so, he’d not only saved Pravus and vanquished Evermore’s asshole president, but he’d also saved his failing relationships with his wife and son. Having done so, he and his family had returned to the city of Southwick.
And ever since, Chauncy’s life had been oh-so-fine, involving frequent thrusting…not into quests, but of an entirely different kind.
“Get it Chauncy-poo!” Valtora urged, quite loudly though it was late and their son was in bed. Still, Chauncy didn’t need to be told twice. He went and got what he’d been told to get, getting while the getting was good. Without fear of Chaos’s intermissions frustrating his ambitions for a night-time emission, for since his last adventure, Chaos had been relatively well-behaved.
“Wowee,” he breathed. Quite drunkenly, for good reason. The explanation for which will have to wait.
“I know, right?” Valtora said. “There’s just something about it.”
“Sure is,” Chauncy agreed, rather guiltily. But still, he didn’t stop. No, he couldn’t stop, so wondrous was the feeling.
“Graarrrghh,” the object of his getting moaned. Which was not, as one might suspect, Chauncy’s wife. Rather, it was his wife’s former body, inhabited by the spirit of his mother-in-law, whom Valtora had murdered…and who Chauncy had subsequently turned into a zombie. And subsequently impregnated nine months ago.
“Go Zora!” Valtora cheered on, lying next to them on the bed. Propped up on some pink pillows, with the dictionary in-hand, as usual. For it was her absolute favorite book to read.
“You’re really okay with this?” Chauncy asked, glancing behind him at the bedroom windows. Which were covered by hot-pink curtains, to his relief. For what he was doing had to be illegal, as well as highly immoral. And more importantly, rather embarrassing.
“Hell yeah,” Valtora confirmed, beaming him a smile. “Gotta get these babies out.” And then patted her belly, which was almost ready to burst…as was Zora’s, incidentally. Zombies couldn’t normally get pregnant, of course, but Chauncy’s prior relations with Zora – combined with Chaos’s magic of making magical surprises – had made the impossible possible. And oh, what a surprise it’d been!
“You’re next,” Chauncy vowed.
“Well duh,” Valtora agreed. “After you have another drink. Gotta erase that memory.” Which again, will have to be explained at a much later date. But please, have trust in the teller of this tale, for all will be made quite clear. Eventually.
“Graarrrrgh!” Zora graarrghed with dead-eyed abandon, drooling in proper zombie fashion. And to Chauncy’s shame, her verbalizations brought him perilously close to the edge.
“Gahhhhnnnggg…I’m a-gonna explode!” he cried, for he very surely was. And then came the…
BOOM!
The windows behind Chauncy shattered, glass shards bursting into the bedroom and clattering against the walls, and a few embedding themselves into Chauncy’s back. A shockwave flung him and Zora and Valtora bodily off the bed, hurtling them into the wall. Chauncy landed on the floor with a whump, the air blasted from his lungs.
He laid on his belly, struggling to breathe…and finally was able to do so. Then terror struck him.
“Poopy-dooz!” he gasped, struggling to his feet. He spotted Valtora lying on her side nearby, rising to her hands and knees. He would have rushed to her side in proper heroic husbandly fashion, had he not happened to look down at himself. Poor Tip had taken a turn for the worse, in that the demonic mod’s…ah…body was bent at an impossible angle. Also, an impossibly painful angle.
“Gah!” Tip cried out, while Chauncy shrieked.
“Roo…ter!” Valtora gasped, lying bloodied on the floor. But even as she said this, the bedroom door opened and Rooter stepped in. For the lovable golem with the magical plant on his head lived in their guest room. Rooter healed Valtora and Chauncy, so that he was no longer so bent out of shape. The golem’s power also pushed the glass shards out of Chauncy’s back, to Chauncy’s relief. Then Rooter did the opposite for Zora, for healing magic harmed zombies, while unhealing magic healed them, oddly enough.
“Thanks Rooter,” Chauncy told the golem, who smiled adorably.
“That,” Tip declared, “…was the worst moment of my life.”
“What the hell happened?” Chauncy asked, ignoring the little demon, even as he helped Valtora and Zora to their feet.
“Explosion,” Valtora replied, gesturing at the blasted-out windows. “Duh.” Then her eyes widened. “Chaos!” she gasped, putting her hand to her mouth. “Come on Rooter!” she cried, hobble-running out of the room, to Chaos’s room. She punched the door off its hinges with her diamond hand rather unnecessarily, peering inside…and found the room empty. “The hell?” she blurted out.
“I’ll check downstairs,” Chauncy offered, rushing down the steps to the foyer…and then slipping on an errant sock, falling head-over heels down the stairs.
“Chauncy!” Valtora called out after him.
He reached the bottom of the stairs, slamming into the front door beyond. Stars exploded in his vision, his nerves performing a symphony of pain.
“Roo…ter!” he gasped. While silently cursing his hellcat ZoMonsterz from putting that damn sock there. Rooter came to his aid, and he sighed in relief, standing up while Valtora hobbled her way down after them.
“Where’s my pop-pop?” Valtora demanded, shoving past Chauncy.
“The door,” Chauncy stated, gesturing at their front door. Which had been blown off its hinges. Valtora ignored him, hobble-running into the kitchen…and then gasped again.
“My baby!”
Chauncy followed her into the kitchen, spotting Chaos sitting with his back against one of the kitchen cabinets, looking rather dazed. Valtora rushed to her son’s side, embracing him and showering him with kisses.
“We need you Rooter,” Chauncy prompted, grateful for the little golem’s presence. With Chaos’s unique magic, Rooter’s help was needed more often than Chauncy would have liked…particularly considering that the local doctor really wasn’t an option anymore. On account of Valtora having assaulted the doctor’s rather vindictive receptionist. Rooter did his thing, which meant that everyone was okay now…and that Chauncy could focus on other things. Such as what the heck had just happened.
“What the heck just happened?” Chauncy asked no one in particular. Chaos gave him a look so guilty that Chauncy immediately narrowed his eyes. “Chaos? What did you do?”
Chaos’ expression turned utterly blank.
“Huh?” he asked. Chauncy rolled his eyes.
“Come on,” he insisted. “Just tell us what happened.”
“Yeah pop-pop,” Valtora added. “Why’d you have to use your magic?”
Which was a really good way to put it, Chauncy realized. For it automatically assumed that Chaos had done it, and that doing it had been the right thing to do. Which made Chaos far more likely to admit to any potential wrongdoing, thinking that it was right-doing.
“He wouldn’t leave,” Chaos explained. Chauncy blinked.
“Who?” he asked.
“The old guy,” Chaos replied. “He told me to get you, but you were wrestling, so I said I couldn’t. He tried to break in the house,” he added. Chauncy’s frown deepened.
“Did he tell you his name?” Chauncy asked.
“Um…Fanny?” Chaos answered.
“Like…as in a butt?” Valtora pressed. Chauncy’s eyes widened then. For there was only one old man who would come to his door and insist on being heard.
“What was he wearing?” he asked Chaos.
“Blue,” Chaos answered.
“Was he carrying anything?”
“A staff,” Chaos replied. “With a big blue crystal on top.”
“Impy!” Valtora gasped.
“Was his name Imperius Fanning?” Chauncy asked. Chaos’ eyes brightened.
“Yeah, that was it!” he confirmed.
They all turned toward the doorway then, rushing to it…and saw the front porch beyond. Or rather, what remained. For there was a massive hole right ahead of the doorway, one that’d taken out a few of the front steps as well. And within that hole was a large ball of multifaceted rock, glowing red-hot.
“What the hell?” Chauncy blurted out.
“Looks a meteorite,” Valtora noted.
“Well yeah,” Chauncy conceded. “But where’s Imperius?” For the old man was nowhere to be found.
“Um…” Chaos began, then stopped, clasping his hands behind his back. Whilst rocking back and forth, heel to toe, with the guiltiest looking look on his face.
Valtora and Chauncy stared at him, and eventually Chaos pointed at the hole.
“In there,” he confessed.
Valtora and Chauncy continued to stare.
“I didn’t mean to,” Chaos added, in his defense.
Chauncy stared a bit longer, then turned to face the hole. Then turned in quite a different way, in that he turned quite pale.
“Oh,” was all he could manage.
“Shit,” Valtora replied, finishing his thought nicely.
Bam!
Chauncy whirled around, screaming in terror. But it was only Zora falling down the stairs, as she usually did. Zombies had a terrible time with stairs, it turned out. More so with going down than with going up. Rooter went to her without being asked, unhealing her quickly. Yet another reason to have the magical golem around, for without him, Zora’s baby surely would’ve been lost long ago. The zombie got unsteadily to her feet, just standing there staring at Chauncy. Whilst drooling excessively.
Chauncy turned back to Chaos, wiping sweaty hands on his shirt.
“Okay,” he stated, trying to pull himself together. And failing miserably. “Okay,” he repeated, even though it clearly wasn’t.
“What did Impy say?” Valtora asked Chaos. Which was a really good question. Chaos shrugged.
“Something about having to talk with Daddy,” he answered.
“Did he say about what?” Valtora pressed.
“Um…I forget.”
“You forget?” Chauncy blurted out incredulously.
“Try to remember,” Valtora pleaded gently, flashing Chauncy a warning look. “Think back to the beginning, when he first started talking with you, and go from there.”
“He said he was Imperius Fanny,” Chaos began.
“Fanning,” Chauncy corrected. Valtora elbowed him in the flank.
“Shut up Chauncy!”
“And that um, rules need to be broken sometimes,” Chaos continued. His eyes brightened. “So I broke them,” he added. For he wasn’t supposed to use his power without consulting an adult first.
“Go on,” Valtora prompted, flashing Chauncy another warning look. Which was well-timed, as he’d been about to open his big mouth again.
“Then I stopped listening, and he said something, and then…” he made an explode-y kind of gesture. While making an explode-y sound.
“Okay,” Valtora replied with a sweet, big ol’ smile. “But what was the last something he said?”
Chaos’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Something about something destroying everything I know and love,” he answered at last.
“Standard destiny-delivering finishing line,” Valtora noted. “Impy used it all the time.”
“So wait,” Chauncy stated. “That means Imperius came here to warn me about my destiny.”
“Right,” Valtora agreed.
“And that we don’t know what it is,” Chauncy continued. Valtora paused, then nodded.
“Right.”
They both looked down the hole.
“And that we can’t ask him what it is,” Chauncy stated.
“Because he’s like, super dead,” Valtora finished.
“Right,” Chauncy mumbled. And immediately began to feel faint. He leaned against the foyer wall, staring at the big hole…and at the still-glowing meteorite within it. It was glowing a bit less, revealing that it was made of some sort of transparent, multifaceted crystal.
“Guess you got your work cut out for you,” Valtora mused. “Gonna take forever to fix that porch.”
“Honey!” Chauncy protested.
“And the windows,” Valtora continued. “Honestly, I think you should just hire someone at this point.”
“Valtora!”
“It’s not like we don’t have the money,” she pressed.
“A man has died!” Chauncy protested.
“Well yeah,” she replied. “But it’s not like he didn’t live a full life. He was like, thousands of years old.”
“A dear friend has passed away!” Chauncy insisted.
“More like he was blown apart,” Valtora corrected.
“GRAARRRRGGGHHH!” came a graarrrggh from behind. They both turned around, seeing Zora bent over, clutching at her big pregnant belly. After which the crotch of her pants turned quite visibly wet.
“What the…GAAH!” Valtora blurted out, bending over and clutching at her own belly…and suffering a similar expulsion of crotch-fluids.
Chauncy stared at them, his jaw slack.
“Mommy?” Chaos asked. “Are you okay?” Which in retrospect was precisely what Chauncy should’ve asked.
“Urrrghh!” Valtora gasped, leaning over and gripping the railing for the stairs. With her diamond hand, unfortunately. The wood splintered under her grasp, adding more to their home-repair bill.
“Oh,” Chauncy mumbled. Just standing there uselessly. Which he’d long ago – and repeatedly – established was his reaction in times of emergency.
“Grarrrrghhh!” Zora grarrghed, grabbing onto his shoulder and squeezing rather hard. Whilst bending over and clutching her belly, and drooling from below as well as above.
“Should I um…get the doctor?” Chauncy asked. Valtora shot him a glare.
“What the hell for?” she shot back.
“To deliver the baby,” Chauncy answered.
“I’m delivering the baby,” Valtora retorted. “The doctor didn’t do shit last…fuuuuuck,” she finished, clearly seized by another round of pain.
“But what if something goes wrong?” Chauncy pressed. Which communicated quite clearly that he would not be useful in such a situation. When it came to cowardice, honesty was the best policy.
“We’ve got Rooter, duh,” Valtora reminded him.
“Oh. Right.”
“Couch!” Valtora commanded. Chauncy hesitated.
“Wouldn’t the bed be better?” he asked. She gave him a look, then dropped her gaze to his spindly arms. And then gave him another look.
“Right,” he grumbled.
Valtora grabbed Chauncy’s other shoulder, and they leaned on him while he brought them to the couch.
“Zora gets the floor,” Valtora stated. And promptly laid down on the couch. Zora, for her part, got down in a position on the floor remarkably similar to the one she’d been in earlier, when Chauncy had been in more of a giving mood.
With that, both women began their joint journeys, moaning and graarrghhing in two-to-three-minute intervals. All for the purposes of ushering life out of themselves and into the world. It was all Chauncy could do to support them as best he could, which mostly involved trying desperately to help and being told that whatever he was doing was wrong. A situation that was commonplace in most standard marriages, but one that Chauncy and Valtora rarely found themselves in.
So he watched, doing everything wrong. But as it turned out, there wasn’t anything he could do right either, other than be present…and reassure Chaos along the way. And while a life had tragically been lost that day, on balance, they’d gained more than they’d lost. For while one poor soul had perished, Chauncy’s family grew by two.
Chapter 2
Late that evening, so late in fact that it was technically early morning, Valtora and Zora gave birth in a symphony of swears and grarrrghhs. Zora to a boy, and Valtora to a girl. And to Chauncy’s immense relief, Zora’s boy appeared perfectly normal, save for the fact that he was unnaturally pale.
“He’s like, white,” Valtora noted while sitting on the couch, her girl in her lap. A girl with a shock of dark brown hair and big purple eyes. Eyes that Chauncy immediately found himself lost in, in a mushy-gushy sort of way. Zora sat beside Valtora, holding her baby boy to her breast, while staring off into space in typical zombie fashion, all dead-eyed and dull and slouchy and stuff.
“A bit,” Chauncy conceded.
“Like, white white,” Valtora pressed. Chauncy glanced at Zora nervously, worried she would take offense. But she just continued to stare dully while her baby suckled. And suckled. And suckled. And then balled his little fists, crying a cute kitty-cat cry.
“Think something’s wrong?” Chauncy asked.
“Hell if I know,” Valtora replied. “Maybe she doesn’t make milk.”
“Maybe,” Chauncy said. He hadn’t really thought about that possibility.
“Test it out,” Valtora prompted. Chauncy blinked.
“What?”
“Have a drink,” she clarified, gesturing at Zora.
“Um…”
“Just do it already,” Valtora insisted.
Chauncy paused, eyeing Zora’s breasts. Which were really rather spectacular, if not quite as amazing as Valtora’s. He was suddenly grateful for the fact that he’d sent Chaos to bed a half-hour earlier.
“Do it,” the demonic mod for his rod Tip urged, rising to the occasion. Chauncy did as he was told, emboldened by consensus, and suckled upon Zora’s breast to put her dairy production to the test. Which was, he found after considerable effort, absolutely nothing. He unlatched then, admittedly a fair bit after he’d reached this conclusion, turning to Valtora.
“Not a drop,” he revealed.
“I got enough booby for both of ‘em,” Valtora replied, extending her arms out for the boy. Chauncy gave him to his wife, and the baby latched on immediately, suckling like a madman. “Holy hell,” Valtora blurted out. “This kid can really suck!”
“He gets it from his mommy,” Chauncy said with a guilty smile. For it was a very wrong thing to say, in that it was highly inappropriate. Which was perfectly appropriate for their highly inappropriate family.
“Sure does,” Valtora agreed, wincing a bit. “Wow.”
At length both babies were sated, and collapsed instantly into a dead sleep. Valtora handed Zora’s baby back, and both mommies cuddled their respective infants. Valtora in a warm, loving sort of way, and Zora in a cold, dead, flop-him-on-her-lap sort of way.
“Why don’t I carry him for a bit,” Valtora offered, scooping the baby up before the tyke could slide off Zora’s lap. Valtora handed the girl to Chauncy, who cradled the kiddo in his arms. He smiled down at his newborn daughter, who was really quite a lovely looking baby, unlike Chaos had been.
“Hello daughter,” he greeted, rocking the baby a bit. “I’m Chauncy Little, your daddy.”
The baby farted.
“Well that wasn’t so…” Chauncy began…and then the baby pooped. Which was unfortunate, considering that they hadn’t put a diaper on the little tyke yet. And even more unfortunate considering that Chauncy was still in the nude. A hot fecal waterfall poured down his belly, rapidly but only partially rinsed away by a stream of pee that followed. Chauncy gasped, lurching away from the baby and very nearly dropping her.
“Help!” he blurted out. But instead, Valtora pointed and laughed. Or rather, not so much laughed as cackled, for it was the only thing related to a laugh that she could produce. He glared at her.
“Are you done?” he asked. Which she clearly wasn’t. Not for a good ten seconds more. Then she wiped tears from her eyes, reaching out with one hand.
“Gimme dat coot baby girl,” she prompted. Chauncy gladly did so, then bounded up the stairs, leaving a trail of newborn waste in his wake. He made it to the bathroom, washing up quickly, then getting to work cleaning up the mess. Such was the magic of messes that they took no time at all to make, but an eternity to clean. Dark, evil magic that rivaled even the power of The Dark One, as far as Chauncy was currently concerned.
At length he finished, putting on his magical wizard’s robe. Purple and sparkly on the outside and white and sinfully silky on the inside, part of its magic was that it never required cleaning, and never smelled bad. He sighed then, collapsing in exhaustion on the other end of the couch, as far away as he could get from the babies.
“Ooo,” Valtora said, her eyes brightening. “Let’s go on the porch and drink tea, like old people!”
Chauncy broke out in a smile, for it was exactly what they’d done four years ago, the day that Chaos had come into this world.
“Anything for you, poopy-dooz,” he declared. He got up from the couch, making his way into the kitchen to make his favorite tea. Honey and ginger and lime, a simple recipe Grandma Little had loved…and one that made him think of her every time he drank it. On the occasion of the birth of what would have been Grandma’s second and third grandkids, Chauncy made the tea with an extra helping of love, preparing it to absolute perfection.
With that, he carried the two cups of tea while Valtora brought the babies, both going to the front door. Which was still destroyed…as was the front porch.
“Oh,” Chauncy blurted out, stopping before that gaping hole. The meteorite was no longer glowing, its facets casting the faintest rainbow colors on everything around it.
“Damn,” Valtora muttered. “Use the backdoor then,” she prompted, which was her usual advice when the front door was out of commission. They did so, emerging into the backyard, with the woods a ways beyond. And a pink, bejeweled carriage Valtora had parked there. One she’d had built after their last adventure, just in case they ever had another.
They already had a few wooden chairs set up near the house, and sat in them. Chauncy gave Valtora her cup of tea and got a baby in exchange. Zora’s baby, but with a diaper this time, to his relief, in case the lil’ tyke relieved himself.
So they sat, gazing at their backyard, sipping the still-hot tea. Chauncy took a deep breath in, then sighed a contented sigh, feeling the stress of the evening fading away.
“This is nice,” he mused, throwing Valtora a smile.
“Sure is,” she agreed. “But we still gotta name that bastard.”
Chauncy blinked, then realized he was referring to Zora’s baby. Which was technically a bastard, being born out of wedlock. He grimaced at the term, but accepted it, because when it came to the truth, he’d learned that this was the wisest thing to do. They’d agreed that she’d name the girl and he’d name the boy, with the other parent having veto power of course.
“How about…Cletus?” he proposed.
“Too close to clitoris,” she replied.
“Where’s that?”
“My turn,” she declared, ignoring his quip. “How about…EDGE?” she proposed epically, even scrunching up her face to add to the dramatics.
“Not very feminine,” he pointed out.
“Who cares?” she replied. “It’s epic.”
“Vetoed,” he said, crossing off the name with a gesture. She pouted.
“Fine,” she grumbled. “Your turn.”
“How about…Quincy?”
“Ew, no,” she replied, making a face.
“It’s a nice name,” he insisted. “Very practical.” Especially compared to Chaos, he wanted to – but didn’t – say.
“We’re not practical people,” she retorted. “We’re wizards.”
And that, Chauncy had to admit, was true. Practicality was a necessary evil when attending to one’s survival. But beyond that, practicality was practically pointless. Grandma Little had always insisted that Chauncy live a practical life, and that had nearly killed him. For once one’s belly was full and their safety secured, the only important thing left to do was play.
Of course, to Grandma Little – and Borrin – play had been misconstrued as frivolous. But in the end, it was the most important thing one could do. Without it, life was simply not worth living, even a safe and secure one. For it would only make one feel safe and secure that every day would be serious, and thus seriously lacking.
“Right,” he agreed reluctantly. “Your turn.”
“How about…FURY!” she exclaimed, thrusting her cup high. And spilling a bit of hot tea over her hand in the process. Luckily, she was carrying it with her diamond hand, and thus didn’t feel a thing.
“Uh…” Chauncy mumbled. “It’s not terrible,” he admitted.
“Fury it is then,” Valtora decided. Rather unilaterally.
“Wait,” he protested.
“You said I get to name her,” Valtora interrupted. “And that you get to veto. You didn’t veto, so Fury it is.”
“But…”
Valtora’s pupils grew larger, the blood draining from her face. Her lips pulled into a straight line…and Chauncy’s eyes went right to her jawline, knowing what was coming next. The dreaded jawline-ripple, with the power to snap one’s sphincter shut. And then send it into painful, shuddering spasms.
“Fury, huh?” Chauncy blurted out.
“Yep,” she confirmed.
“Fury Little,” he said, testing it out.
“Little Fury Little,” Valtora agreed.
Chauncy paused, then sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He’d been hoping for a girly name, but it clearly wasn’t to be.
“Okay,” he said. “You win.”
“YEAH!” Valtora boomed, thrusting her arms in the air. Which sent her tea flying out of her cup…and poor Fury tumbling from her lap onto the grass. “Oh, shit,” Valtora swore, scooping the baby up. After which the little girl turned beet-red, not breathing for a good five seconds, before emitting an ear-piercing screech.
“I’ll get Rooter!” Chauncy exclaimed, leaping from his chair. And sending his infant son tumbling to the ground. “Oh!” he blurted out, rushing to scoop the poor boy up. But unlike his sister, the tyke didn’t turn red or cry. He just took the fall like a champ, barely batting an eye.
Which should have raised his suspicions, or at least alerted him that something was amiss. But alas, Chauncy was terribly tired, and what’s more, more than a little guilty for having dropped the boy. So, thusly distracted, he went to fetch Rooter, then returned outside to Valtora’s side. Rooter healed both babies, after which Chauncy and Valtora resumed their naming session.
“How about…” he began.
“Make it epic,” Valtora reminded him.
“Right,” Chauncy replied. And then grimaced, for the name he’d been about to choose hadn’t been epic in the least. He frowned, rubbing his chin and gazing at the trees ahead. And then found his eyes drawn to the heavens instead. Stars shone in the night sky, like tiny pinholes in the fabric of existence, allowing the light of the universe to shine through. Light and Space, his Mom and Dad. They were watching him, he realized. Right here, right now.
Hi guys, he greeted silently, with a little smile.
They were both Magi, wizards so powerful that they had become what they loved. In doing so, they’d lived the very opposite of a mundane life, not only creating magic but becoming magical. The greatest gift he could give his children was to allow them to do the same. To be who they really were, rather than what others wanted them to be. To live not small, boring little lives, but instead to live epically.
A feeling came over him then, a feeling of being present. A feeling of being alive, right here, right now. He felt the coolness of the air acutely, and smelled the sharp scent of the grass.
In short, he felt profoundly alive.
“How about…Epic?” he proposed. Which was quite literally making it epic, as she’d requested. Valtora’s eyes widened, her jaw dropping.
“OhmygodI love it!” she exclaimed.
Chauncy grimaced. For the name had come to him in the spur of the moment, and on reflection, he was having second thoughts. But Valtora was already shooting to her feet, Fury clutched in one arm. She pumped her diamond fist into the air, her face scrunched up in a furious scowl.
“EPIC!” she boomed, startling poor Fury. Who began to shriek again, in accordance with her name.
“I have some other ideas…” Chauncy began, but Valtora was already rushing back into the house. He sighed, knowing full-well what was coming. And shortly thereafter, his predictions proved correct. For his wife returned with two sheets of paper in hand: the birth certificates for each child. Already filled out, to his dismay. In ink.
“Done and done!” Valtora declared triumphantly. “Let’s go to bed, Chauncy-poo. Mama’s tired.”
Chauncy sighed again, standing up.
“Alright, poopy-dooz.”
With that, they went back into Grandma Little’s house. Chauncy slept on the couch downstairs, already prepared for a grueling battle with crying babies and phantom-cries. But as it turned out, he fell asleep almost instantly…and didn’t wake up until well into the morning. A miracle nearly as magical as the miracle of birth.
Of course, had he known what destiny had in store for him, he wouldn’t have slept nearly so soundly, if at all. But it wouldn’t be long before he was forced to answer destiny’s devastating call.