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.

Jerry, Jon, and Harriet dove beneath the table. "I wasn't expecting that!" Jerry's friends nodded in agreement. As he looked back out over the edible carnage Jerry's eyes caught the white-haired form of Bumblebob disappearing into the back hall.

"There he is! Now's my chance to speak with him without anyone seeing. You guys stay here." Jon and Harriet nodded as Jerry leapt from beneath the table. He dodged past another drifting chair--now swaying erratically and coated in lunch--and sped towards to rear exit.

By the time Jerry caught up to him, Archmage Bumblebob was already seated in his study, his back to the door and his gaze lingering out the window. He sipped at a strange potion that smelled like the essence of a boreal forest. Jerry slipped into the room as quietly as he could and shut the door behind.

"Lord Bumblebob. . .Archmage. . .sir, I need to speak with you!"

"Yes Jerry. I've been waiting for you." Bumblebob sipped his potion through a shaggy white beard.

"Y-you have?" Jerry's eyes went wide. Bumblebob was by far the kindest of the professor-mages at the academy, but he was likewise the most wise and mysterious.

"Yes Jerry, you crashed through the back door like a drunken bull and you were screaming my name all the way down the hall. What do you need?"

"It's about the Wyverns! I think they might be involved in dark magics!"

Bumblebob didn't react for several seconds. He sipped his tincture silently, his attention still drifting out beyond the clouds.

"No Jerry, they aren't." Bumblebob's response finally came out like a sigh.

Jerry's chest shuddered and tears welled in his eyes. "Please, sir, Lord Archmage, you must believe me! They have used dark magics and I have proof!" Jerry thrust his fist into the air like a challenge to the ancient mage's doubts.

"No Jerry. The Wyverns haven't been using dark magic because they haven't done any magic."

Jerry's fist dropped to his side and his eyes went wide. "I. . .sir, Archmage, I don't understand."

"Do I look like a damn Archmage Jerry?!" Bumblebob burst from his seat and spun to face the boy.

"O-of course, sir. The robes a-and your pointed hat, and the long beard of a wise elder!"

"Damn it Jerry, I'm a 35 year-old man wearing a scraggly old Santa costume. This isn't even a real god damn beard." Bumblebob shook his head and downed the contents of his glass.

Jerry continued to stare at the Archmage with wide eyes. "Well I suppose a powerful archmage would be a master of illusionary magics."

Bumblebob brought his glass down on the desk with a loud thud and refilled it from a bottle he pulled from a drawer. He looked at Jerry once more and sighed. "There's no magic Jerry." He waved his glass about, sloshing the elixir across the room. "None of this is real. It's all bullshit."

"W-what about the floating lights and chairs in the mess hall?"

"Christ Jerry. The lights barely work in the mess hall, and they aren't floating they're just hanging loose. And I don't know who thought it'd be funny to hang a damn chair from the ceiling but for fucks sake Jerry it's hanging by a piece of twine. Clear as day!"

Jerry's brow wrinkled in confusion. "W-what about last night's match, sir? The Hippogriffs beat the Thunderbirds soundly in the air. I don't remember any strings tied to my broom."

"'The match'? Jerry, one of the kids in 'Bluebird' broke into the maintenance shed and you all ran around with brooms and gardening tools between your legs for 3 hours. Shit Jerry," Bumblebob dropped back into his chair, "Jerry I think someone's been drugging your food."

Ignoring the archmage's refutations, Jerry continued, determined to remind him what the Academy, and magic, was really about. "Well what about when Lord Snidicus took us to the undercellar to wipe out the shadow beasts?"

"'Lord Snidicus' locked you and your bunk mates in the basement to deal with the rat problem."

"What about when Summoner Mlekis summoned a hellhound? We were plagued by spirits for weeks after that."

"Melli let in a mangy stray for you all to play with and you all caught flees. Christ Jerry I think you are high off your asses."

Anger surged through him. He had to save Bumblebob! He had to remind him that magic was real!

Then it struck him.

"Well what about this!" Jerry thrust his scepter toward the Archmage. "Just moments ago I cast aside McDragon's evil spell, dissolving his magic food missile into the nether!"

Bumblebob stared at Jerry for a long moment. His face was unmoving but his hand fidgeted about his glass.

"That's a rusty nail file Jerry, and there's mashed potatoes all over your face. I saw it hit you square in the forehead and you didn't even notice. Christ what have they been giving to you kids." He downed the entire glass and immediately poured another.

"But. . .Archmage Bumblebob. . ."

"It's just Bob, Jerry."

"Archmage Bob, sir. . .the Wyverns."

The archmage swiveled his chair back to the window. "Sure Jerry, go. . .deal with the Wyverns."

Jerry thrust his scepter into the air and bolted out into the hall.