Satire
The Fate Of The Ant-Wave Beings
by Silvia Hartmann
There is this story about the beginner magician in Cambridge in
his little cellar flat casting a circle in order to manifest a pot of gold, but
getting his dimensional co-ordinates wrong so it manifests instead in the
dimension of the ant-wave beings; to be more precise, in the garden of a
particular ant-wave being who is utterly confused and confounded (of course!) by
the arrival of this foreign and inexplicable object.
Now, the beginner magician in Cambridge, upon failing to have manifested his
desired result, does what people tend to do - instead of doing something else,
he just tries harder. More incense, deeper trance, more chanting more often.
The garden of the ant-wave being is being covered with these weird pots of gold
and by now, and having sought help from authorities on unexplained phenomena,
the ant-wave beings have decided that this is an indication of the wrath of
their Gods and from their end, are beginning to do all sorts of things to stop
the evil from manifesting out of the clear violet sky at random intervals (but
mostly at weekends, because the apprentice magician from Cambridge, Earth, has
no social life).
The ant-wave beings are dancing, doing rituals, waving flowers about and getting
desperate.
One suggests a particularly violent regime of fasting and starvation.
Meantime, the apprentice magician is getting frustrated with the lack of results
and, at the precise time as the priest of the ant-wave beings declares their
intention to starve forever if only the evil manifestations will stop, throws
his magic manual into his flip top bin whilst striding out of his flat on the
way to the pub.
The pots of gold stop.
And the ant-wave beings then go on to starve themselves to death in fear of
their evil manifestations returning.
And so our friend in Cambridge had not only manifested thousands of pots of
gold, but he was also responsible for genocide.
But he never knew and gave up on magic shortly thereafter, and became an NLP Life
Coach instead.
© Silvia Hartmann 2003
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