Bucket of Anvils
by Scott Wilson
the world are you doing? Damn it, stop it, stop
it I say, said Mervyn the Beige Wizard.
put it where you said to, Geoffrey the
his wand around in a swirl of colorful lights and
sparkling stars. A loud pop shattered the silence
in the workshop and Geoffrey stop dead in his
across the workshop, filled with bubbling beakers
and vials of bright and luminous fluids. The
Golems hand still rested on the bucket of
anvils. There was no way Mervyn could move this
He waved his
I said. Apples.
small round pieces of red fruit. You know, used
to making pies, eating for a snack or a meal in
expressionless face of the Golem gave nothing
away, no glimmer of understanding or puzzlement.
dont want the anvils, den?
no. Take them away and get me a bucket of apples.
Big fresh red apples.
left at the shop where I got these,
Geoffrey said. Kind of had an argument bout
how many anvils I could buy. Blacksmith no wanted
to sell me any, but I twisted his arm into
selling them, selling them all.
his head, imagining just how much his servant
twisted the local blacksmiths arm,
rid of them, then and get me those apples before
my potions bubble over.
He shook his
head again, disbelieving how hard it was to get
such a basic, common ingredient. The dragons
tooth, dryad hair, scales of a hydra, mushrooms
from the high Alps of the Boogaloo Mountains. All
these had been easier for his Golem to retrieve
compared to a bushel of bloody apples.