A story about alcohol and being an arch-mage

"Archmage Bumblebob"

A chair drifted lazily over Jerry's head as he found a seat in the rear of the mess hall. Jon slid into the seat beside him and Harriet took the one opposite. Light flickered across them as a candelabra danced past. Jerry looked about them to make sure it was safe to speak then motioned his friends closer.

"I have to get to Bumblebob. I have to warn him-" Jerry's words were cut short as he noticed the telltale gestures of magecraft aimed in his direction. McDragon. His old nemesis motioned over his mashed potatoes with his scepter. A round glob of potato rose into the air before McDragon thrust his scepter, pointed directly at Jerry.

Without hesitation Jerry reacted. Scepter already in hand, he waved the magical device toward the onrushing mash. In an instant the projectile was vaporized, dissolving into the nether like warm ether. Another of McDragon's sinister pranks foiled.

Unfortunately the rest of the mess hall had not missed the interaction. In an instant the room was a cascade of magically propulsed food. Corn and peas and potatoes flew everywhere, splattering against walls and knocking levitating chairs from their rhythms.

A story about alcohol and being an arch-mage

"Why I Became a Police Officer"

I was an arch-mage, Kev was an Oreo, and Mills had pulled some things together from his closet to make an almost-passable cowboy. He would have been just at that age where he suddenly started feeling like he was too cool to dress up for Halloween, but had decided he’d go along with us younger kids one last year. It was only after we got to the next block, behind the tree on Mr. Pearson’s house, that he took the bottle out from his bag.

Now remember, Kev was an Oreo here. He was only 10. I think he was just happy to be included. I was old enough to know what it was, but young enough to still have unquestioned moralistic values forced into my consciousness, so I had said (“doing the voice,” Mills insists), “Come on, Mills, that stuff is bad!” I don’t think he’ll ever let me forget that line.

We ended up going to Montrose Park and sitting on the playscape, drinking alcohol (which was a mickey of rye, by the way). Kev had about three shots worth then went on the swings, even more raucous than usual. Mills and I shared the rest of the bottle. I hated the taste of it, but he insisted the worse it tasted, the drunker we would get. He was right. First we couldn’t even stand, so instead we sat there and ate the candy from the five or so  houses we’d already been to, which wasn’t enough to satisfy. We needed more.

A story set in Argentina in 1932, in which a teacup plays a crucial role

“The Pre-Teen Years: Family Hardship”

Father was a hard-working man who supported the entire family (all six of us). He had been a line supervisor for one of the biggest factory in Buenos Aires since the early 1920s. After the communist executions started, it wasn’t long before the factory was shut down. We didn’t understand why at the time – we didn’t know this time would go on to be called the Great Depression. Knowing that now, it seems fitting.

It was a Sunday. Father had been out of work for over a year, and we were sitting around the kitchen table, all of us, listening to the radio. It was the election, and we were being given a new president. Perhaps we were hopeful that this would bring about change for us, that maybe some of the factories would re-open and father could have his job again (that wasn’t what happened at all – the Great Depression would continue for tears to come, although I would eventually leave the city before the end of it). Arturo was only 4 at this time, and he had been crying on and off all day for hunger. Mother could only give him water and cradle him, trying not to cry herself. (She never did; I think she was the strongest of all of us.)

A story set in Argentina in 1932, in which a teacup plays a crucial role

"Time for Tea"

"Damn it Henry, if you could warn me before the rough stops I'd be most appreciative."

"By all means I shall, Jenson, assuming they're expected, but that one was most certainly not."

"What do you mean? Where are we?"

"Well, if I were to hazard a guess. . .hmm"

"Well?"

"Yes yes, give me one moment to get my bearings would you Jens? I'd say. . .South America, early 20th century, give or take."