jonathan had never shown much interest in politics, let alone participated in that distressing pastime in any way, but he conceived a violent dislike to the new prime minister and his policies, and entertained the idea of putting a spell on him.
unfortunately the means he had at his disposal of casting spells involved a lot of smoke and loud noise, and could easily be heard and perceived by the people in the apartments adjoining his.
one day jonathon noticed that the cars of all the persons occupying the apartments in question were absent from the parking lot.
this is my chance, jonathon thought. it is more than a chance, it is a sign.
entering his apartment, he listened carefully for any sign of life anywhere in the building.
hearing none, he fought down a momentary spasm of cowardice and resolved to do the deed.
he took down the book of spells he had inherited from his great-aunt minerva, and which he kept carefully hidden in a secret compartment he had had installed, against the building regulations, in his bedroom wall.
the book had accumulated a layer of dust, as he had not had occasion to use it since his university days, where some affairs of the heart had occasioned some dire revenges.
opening it brought a smile to his lips, and he felt as if suddenly encountering an old and true friend.
but no sooner had he placed the open book on his escritoire, than the door of the apartment burst open and he was confronted with the annoying woman from across the hall whose name he had always refused to remember - and she seemed to have virtually all the inhabitants of the building, plus the concierge, at her back!
caught in the act, sir, the annoying woman announced.
we have suspected you all along, the concierge added.
you thought you could get away with practicing sorcery on honest citizens, a fellow, whom jonathon did not recognize, brayed. but let me tell you, you have another think coning.
jonathon was too stunned to respond right away. but i meant none of you any harm, he managed to stammer as they advanced upon him, it was only the prime minister - the wicked and foolish prime minister who is destroying our great and glorious country -
a likely story, the annoying woman interrupted as she grew close enough for jonathon to see the whites of her eyes -
none of your damned lying politics! a man at the back of the crowd shouted.
and then jonathon remembered why he had always refused to let himself remember the annoying woman. -
mrs murphy! he gasped.
yes, jonathon it is i. and you have not done your homework again, have you? after i gave you your last warning.
suddenly the apartment building and all its inhabitants were gone and mrs murphy was walking along a deserted seashore in the rain, with jonathon, a small parrot, in her pocket.
the pet store was at the end of the pier, where it had always been.
mrs murphy pushed open the door. old man mose was behind the counter, smoking his eternal cigar.
i want to return this parrot, mrs murphy told old man mose. you told me it could speak two words, but it can only speak one.
is that right? old man mose growled as mrs murphy placed the wet and bedraggled jonathon on the counter.
come on fellow, he addressed jonathon, let me hear you speak two words.
but jonathon could not remember two words.
he could not remember one.
No comments:
Post a Comment