"I've had it!!" he screamed up into the sky.
Above him circled and swooped at least ten colourful birds, all of them calling out in gleeful squawks.
"You'll get yours!!" Herman shouted. He dived out from the dried patchy grass that he had been running in and slid to a stop in front of his dearest, oldest friend Tenstal.
"Herman, old fellow!" Tenstal boomed. "What a comical surprise this is! I can't quite understand why you must slide into my presence whenever we meet, but however, I am very pleased you do."
"Oh shut it!" Herman staggered upright and brushed himself off grumpily.
Tenstal chuckled. "Have some tea," he motioned to the absurdly large teapot that sported a ridiculously curvaceous spout sitting on the little table next to him.
"You think you're protected, do you?" Herman grumbled, reaching for the teapot.
"Under here," Tenstal spread his arms wide, motioning to the veranda he was sitting under, "Nothing evil shall enter."
"Oh go boil your left toe." Herman was having quite a difficult time lifting up the teapot. It was just far too heavy. He decided to heave the pot forwards without even lifting it, ignoring the scratches it made on the wooden table, and he aimed the spout at the tiny teacup. Nothing came out. He waited, sweat forming on his brow, his eyes glancing in a spasmodic way to the scratches.
"Allow me," Tenstal said.
Herman shrieked and let go. "Must you yell!"
The teapot swayed from side to side in an unnerving manner- as it was clearly too heavy to move by human hand.
"Is this a normal thing!?" Herman demanded. "I have just ran from my house under siege of your birds, the least I can be offered in return is some hot tea! Why is this so hard to use?!"
"Sit! Sit!" Tenstal gestured, enjoying his little friend. It had been far too long since they interacted in such a humorous way. Herman had a flair for the dramatics that Tenstal found delightful.
"Are you enjoying your persimmons and parsnips?" he asked Herman as he lifted the pot in one easy motion and poured out the steaming pink liquid.
Herman stared.
"Boursella has been in such an alphabetic mood lately," Tenstal continued without missing a beat. "All she does involves the letter P. It would drive me crazy if she were not so utterly beautiful."
"Are you a wizard?" Herman demanded in a fit of unhealthy rage.
"Hmmm?" Tenstal looked up.
"YOU ARE CLEARLY A MAN OF TRICKS! ARE YOU NOT?"
Herman felt his insides squirm uncomfortably. He vaguely entertained the thought of hosting a hex, one that produced living, crawling things inside the body for an afternoon of entertainment in the utmost hideous horror one can experience. But he shrugged these thoughts away. Tenstal was the most mild-mannered friend he had the pleasure of encountering, and, if proven to be a wizard, would only use his magic for healing injured animals and growing Herman longer legs so he could reach the top shelf.
"Herman, oldest friend, sit and have this tea. You will feel right as the day you were born, I insist." Tenstal set the teacup with painted faces of kittens across the table and Herman sat begrudgingly down upon the brightly painted spindly wooden chair.
Tenstal could hear mumblings such as pain in my manicured ass and kind of magic potion nonsense is this, but he chose to ignore and smile on serenely out to his feathered friends in the sky,
"I must say, it is good to be sitting down," Herman said after a few mouthfuls.
Tenstal sighed suddenly. "Alas! All those hours of my time gazing upon the fine workmen of today and all the golden coins from my pocket and still, still, this post is to display itself crooked."
And much to Hermans disbelief, Tenstal waved a crooked-looking tree branch and the veranda post visibly straightened.
;;
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(6_6)
