Sunday, May 26, 2013
The Fake Sorcerer and His Sorcery
It was dark when they arrived by rolling carriage to the place they called a nightclub. I heard much disturbing noise that passed for music, and it got louder as they approached. A fat man wearing garish black makeup around his eyes seemed to be screening the prospective patrons before they passed on to leave money for entrance. The man wore no shirt, but he decorated his chest and arms with a series of black leather straps, some of which must have been dog collars with spikes.
Martyn looked at him with obvious distain. I suppose he felt quite proud to be about to make his debut as a master sorcerer. He also seemed proud of his garb, which consisted of a ridiculous long black hooded cape over a black suit and white shirt. His female friend dressed in what she thought passed for a witch’s outfit. She wore a long black dress with a long train lined in purple satin. She also wore a black cape, but the back of it was embroidered with a large, upside down, five pointed star. She was telling people to call her Sabrina.
After a long time, during which my host was feeling increasingly nervous, he approached a spindly man sporting vampire teeth, who seemed to be in charge. Martyn said, “You agreed to give me time if I could do what I said I could.”
The man drew back thin, cracked lips over his yellowed teeth in a grimace that passed as a smile. “If you are going to do some stupid magic tricks, I’ll have the bouncer kick your ass in front of everybody. Got it? Anyway, I want to see proof first. This is a serious place. If I get some ass-clown making me look stupid, we’ll lose our reputation.”
Martyn took in a deep breath and mumbled, “I call upon the powers of the Sorcerer Gaumata. Make fire come from my mouth!”
He blew out and I obliged him by making a small blue flame pass from his lips. The master of the establishment was impressed. “Okay, but make this good,” he said. He rang a loud Tibetan type gong until everyone fell silent. He called for the audience to look at the stage, where Martyn and his witch friend had already ascended.
“We at the club Sorceria are proud to present Martyn, the master sorcerer and Sabrina, an eighth level witch.” He made a ridiculous bow and backed away. All eyes were on Martyn, but I heard some giggling too. It seemed that he had some detractors.
“After much tribulation, after much deprivation and suffering, I, Martyn, have become a master sorcerer. I have within me the knowledge of the ages—I know what only the ancients knew…”