O-oh dear… I’ve made a terrible mistake, haven’t I?
The mage thought to himself as he paced around his house. Where he once had arms covered in a glorious, ornate robe he now had stubby white wings that couldn’t even fly. Hover, maybe, but never more than a couple inches off the ground at a time. He couldn’t figure out why his spell hadn’t worked. It worked before! Hadn’t it?
His self-doubt started in on his mind. Had he successfully managed this spell before? He must have! He, the great and powerful Kevin, never failed! Then again, who had ever heard of a successful wizard with a name like Kevin?
Well, maybe someone will come by and see me. Surely someone will wonder where I’ve gone off to and why there’s a chicken in my house. Unless… oh no. Please. Don’t let it be the butcher. I promised him a cow today, and if he sees a chicken…
Kevin gulped in the way only chickens could. He was suddenly stricken with nerves, wondering what he could possibly do to remedy this situation. He had to be careful. How the spell managed to backfire so much that he became a chicken was beyond him, but he could still flap his wings enough to get atop his stool. His beak was pointed enough to wedge in between pages of the spellbook, but not sharp enough to tear the centuries old pages.
Frantically, he searched. Page after page he tried to find something that could help him. He found the spell after a few minutes. His beady eyes scanned the page, and he squawked in surprise. Indeed he had managed to muss up the entire spell. Of course it was supposed to be the feather from a duck, not a chicken. How similar the two looked in the early morning hours before the sun had truly risen. He needed the grey feather of a duck, not the white feather of a chicken.
Without the grey feathers, how else would he have successfully made the flexible adhesive strips he would call “duck tape”?
I mean, surely my creation deserves a better name. “Chicken tape” just doesn’t have the same appeal. Unless I drew little chickens all over the strips. Would that work? I could market this to children! Kids love farm animals and annoying things to stick all over their houses. It’s perfect!
Still, the mage had to worry about getting out of his predicament before he could find a way to monetize his yet-uncreated invention and the clever ways he could market it to enhance his own wallet. Perhaps he would don his wizard hat and walk around outside. Anyone who would pass by would find him and come help him…
As he was formulating this plan, careful to be known as a chicken, not a duck, his eyes fell upon a paragraph in smaller print than the rest. It was on the same entry as his tape spell, but it wasn’t written in his script. It was printed, for one, and the letters were perfectly spaced and perfectly shaped. They weren’t there just by chance. Kevin read with growing excitement.
So all I have to do is travel to the Old Spooky Forest in the South of Town and find some ancient Magical Something-or-Other? That’s it? No more details? I guess they’re not too picky about what sort of magical object. Maybe it’s a stick. I could totally see it being a stick. I mean, who doesn’t remember getting poked with sticks as a kid? I do.
Kevin flapped his wings pathetically, floating gently down to the ground. He worked his way under the oversized floppy hat he kept by his trinket chest. Adjusting it the best he could, he went to his front door. With the miniscule amount of residual magic in the very tips of his feathers, he willed the door open and went outside to wait.
I sure hope they don’t take too long. I hate waiting.
