With apologies to J.K. Rowling

Last year I wrote a very silly short story which I had tentatively titled, “Care and Feeding of Magical Creatures”, but as you can see from the below this is not set anywhere in the Harry Potter universe. It does borrow slightly from those books, though, and so it is with some trepidation I offer this little story to Ms. Rowling as yet another fan fiction tribute.

-Liz

Care and Feeding of Magical Creatures (with apologies to J.K. Rowling)
“What do you mean, the ciders are all gone?”

“They’re not in the fridge. They’re gone.”

“Who drank them?”

Everyone shrugged.

“Well,” David said impatiently, “they can’t just have up and disappeared.”

Everyone looked at Sunni.

“Why are you all looking at me?” she asked. “Just because I drank them last time doesn’t mean I drank them this time.”

“Well, we will just have to get some more and hope they don’t up and disappear again,” David said, sighing.

There was a belch from the potted plant hanging above Mark’s desk. Its long, luxuriant vines rustled.

“What the hell?”

Mark picked up a pen and poked at the rustling leaves at the base of the pot.

A crushed cider can flew up in an arc from the pot and landed on Sunni’s desk, and there was another belch.

Everyone stared at the plant.

A small, fluffy pink face emerged from the leaves. It hiccupped. Tiny rainbow wings fluttered on the creature’s back.

“Mark?” David asked. “Why is there a drunken pink unicorn with wings hiding in your plant?”

“I have no idea,” Mark said, fumbling with his phone.

“No one will believe this,” he said, aiming his phone at the creature.

The unicorn hiccupped again and raised one hoof, pointing at Mark’s phone.

Expelliarmus,” it muttered, and Mark’s phone flew out of his hands and landed next to the crushed can on Sunni’s desk. There was a crackling noise.

“Awww, damn it,” Mark said, picking up his phone. Its face was crackled, broken.

“Now your phone looks like my phone!” Sunni said brightly.

“It’s using Harry Potter magic on us,” David said grimly. “Who here reads Harry Potter?”

“I’ve read some,” Sunni said. All of them were staring at the unicorn, which belched again.

“Not bad considering it must have drunk its body weight in cider,” Mark observed.

“Try Riddiculus,” Sunni suggested. “Visualize it as a stuffed animal that can’t move as you point your wand.”

They all looked at each other.

“Does anyone have a ruler? Or a laser pointer?” David said, finally.

Mark rummaged around in his desk.

“Here’s one,” he said, handing a laser pointer to David.

“Why are you handing it to me? It’s your unicorn.”

“It’s your idea to use a laser pointer,” Mark said.

Accio wand,” said the unicorn, and David yelped as the laser pointer in his hand tugged toward the pot.

“What was that thing you said, Sunni?” David cried, hanging on to the wand.

The unicorn grinned, and David scowled at it.

Riddiculus,” Sunni repeated.

Riddiculus,” David yelled, waving the laser pointer.

Nothing happened for a few moments, then the unicorn grew slightly bigger. It leered at Sunni.

“Bring more cider,” it said in its high-pitched voice.

There was a rumbling sound in the distance- the janitor was making his daily rounds on the floor-polishing mini-Zamboni.

Sunni scowled.

“There are three of us,” she said, “and only one of you.”

The unicorn hiccupped again.

“I’m a lovable magical creature,” it slurred, and hiccupped again.

“More,” it demanded, and fell out of the plant pot. It fluttered drunkenly in the air.

“Get him!” Sunni yelled, and Mark, who was closest to the unicorn, grabbed it. The unicorn made a gurgling noise and escaped his grip. Sunni opened the door to the office and kicked the fluttering unicorn out into the hallway, just as the janitor’s mini-Zamboni was passing by. There was a horrifying crunching sound as the unicorn was run over and pulverized, followed by the scent of bubblegum and strawberries.

The janitor just kept driving along, apparently not noticing anything amiss.

“Don’t steal our alcohol,” Sunni said darkly, looking at the scented pink smear on the floor that once was the unicorn.

“Fucking magical creatures, infesting our office,” David muttered. “You OK?”

He directed this last question at Mark, who was wiping his hands on a paper towel.

“I think it barfed on me,” said Mark, looking disgusted.

“I don’t know about you all,” said Sunni, hugging herself, “but I could use a drink.”

The three students looked at each other.

Eventually, David spoke.

“Do you think there are fluffy pink unicorns in the Grad Lounge?”

“Only if you’ve been there too long,” said Sunni, taking the laser pointer, and crossing her arms.

Black Arrow

I wrote this in 2006. It is about life trajectories- some are more convoluted than others.

Black Arrow

a master archer shot you, black arrow

straight and true into your target

and I, thistledown

wafting here and there on errant breezes

connecting softly with random things

our journeys are very different

and as I spin, and watch you fly past me

I can’t help but notice

you are fletched with thistledown