End of Days: [1] The Wizard and The Wanker

Bartholomew Twartzenfadge set off from his house, with a lovely, light packed lunch, a flask of coffee, other assorted soft drinks, and a bag of Werthers originals, and set off to investigate The Ring. He had found The Ring when he was last in the Slightly Spooky Woods. It was on the mossy floor of the Hollow in the Fallen Down Tree.

He got to the Fallen Down Tree without any ado and scrabbled about getting into it. Once inside he felt around under the heavily mossed floor that he was so used to resting upon. Ahh yes, it was there. He knew it existed. He tried to pick it up but it wouldn't budge. At last, a use for his ever trusty, never rusty - because he always had a brand new one for every trip - ice pick!

A dwarf had just been about to walk into the clearing and go to the fallen down tree. He saw Bartholomew and stopped dead. He was gently rubbing both his stones as Bartholomew had disappeared into the Fallen Down Tree.

Bart the Clart pulled his latest ice pick out of his pocket. He put a pointy bit through the ring and levered up. The floor gave way and he landed on the top of a set of wooden stairs barely a foot below. The ring was obviously a doorlatch. Admiring the workmanship, he realised that it was the dwarves who had invented the 'loft ladder'.

The floor had dropped as a flap and on doing so a cunning set of intricately carved wooden steps had cleverly unfolded themselves to aid entry into the passageway about eight feet below.

Bart was excited as he knew damn well the dwarves were real. People had been laughing at him for years, ever since he had banged his head in the woodshed, and his adventures had started. he got his torch out of his pocket and switched it on. The floor looked to be about eight feet below.




At exactly the same time as Bartholomew was looking down into the expertly crafted passage, Thaumaterge Gilead Random Gilespie, was answering his ancient front door:

"Good afternoon Archduke. Go and sit at the back of the room with your fresh, crisp, copy of The Smite - It's black and white and read all over!, newspaper, as usual."

The awesome slogan, which was conceived by a very intelligent, anonyomous man, was a pun on a joke already in existence... What is black and white and red all over? ...you get the picture. Mark certainly did... He rushed off and changed The Spoof's slogan straight away muttering, "I'm paying him nothing. The contribution he brings is not worth all that editing. This will help towards paying his way.."

The Archduke made himself comfortable and sat playing with the shitty plastic bracelet he was wearing that looked like it had come out of a very cheap Christmas cracker. Then he took the opportunity to actually read The Smite, as he knew he was safe here to let his guard down for half an hour or so.

"I'm just popping out Ferdinand. Feel free to make yourself a brew at any time." Said Gilead. The Archduke nodded and got back to reading the latest news about Lord Hereford and his bastard knob, unimpressed because now people would start looking into it. The name Archduke Ferdinand Crippledick was similar in an upper class, crusty sorty of way. This had better not drag him out into the limelight...

...not that it really mattered, it was just a little moan. None of this was going to matter soon. How soon he wasn't a hundred percent sure. He would just have to wait until things started going very wobbley.

"I've just got to pick up a couple of Lodestones to help me make some magical direction finders called compasses. Catch you in a bit hopefully." finished Gilead has he left his hermitage.

The Archduke knew what a compass was. Wizards thought they knew everything and everybody else knew nothing. That was how they were.




Bartholomew walked down the steps, crouching slightly at first because of the dwarf to human size difference. On reaching the tunnel floor. he looked around. Ye Fallen Downe Tree, Slightly Spooky Woods was written next to the stairs, which having sensed he had got to the bottom had now cunningly raised themselves again, and all that was left to see was the sign and now a bog chain, hanging from the ceiling.

Bart looked at it, thought about pulling it, then thought better of it, which showed he was finally learning his lesson about being a nosey old twat. He walked down the passageway, deciding to go down, not up, as this seemed the logical way to go, to get to all the action. Just then a bat flew from the shadows brushing passed him, making the old man jump and scream loudly in shock... he also dropped the torch which now sounded ominously knackered.

At the same time, Gilead heard the scream and instantly Wizard Breathed his own torch to douse the flames. That was no Dwarf squeal! Who the Unicorns udders was it?

Bart inched forward cautiously, he had thought he had heard faint footsteps and seen a brief flicker of light.

Gilead inched forward and got a Short Sharp Shock Spell ready, just in case.

The two pissed about for a bit, stumbling toward each other.

The two bumped into each other.

"Have you got the Lodestones? whispered Thaumaterge Gilead 'Random' Gilespie. Hoping it was the Dwarf.

Bartholomew lowered the ice pick with which he had just about to do a 'Trotsky' to the voice. It spoke English though, so he thought he was OK: "Do you mean a pair of bollocks full of sperm?.. or do you think my name is Stones and I have brought you something?" asked Bart with his ice pick ready, should it turn out he was now in the shit.

"I knew it, a stranger, who the Soreone are you?" said Gilead in the pitch dark.

"My name is Bartholomew Twartzenfadge." said Bartholomew Twartzenfadge.

"Oh my flying Fairy's faeces, you are finally here as prophesised. Just shut your eyes a moment please while I get the torch lit." Gilead got out his tinder box, removed some tinder, placed it and his torch against the seat of his trousers, and farted.

The passageway instantly lit up to reveal the pair to each other: "Quick, follow me, lets get away from the stench. Sorry Bart, Wizard Keff's smell worse than womens, I should have told you. We hold them in even longer than they do, so the stench is awful."

Bart had already had a slight whiff of the residue after Gilead had keft on the tinder and torch and agreed, but couldn't say as he was too busy trying not to die of Wizard Keff Poisoning - a particularly nasty way to go.

Gilead led Bartholomew through the passageways to his thaumaterge hermitage. There were all manner of doors dotted about the passageways along the way, and Dwarves and other magical beings and things happening all around, but I'm bolloxed if I'm telling you lot in case you plagiarize me because I am so good.

Bartholomew admired the entrance, which was made of classic red Accrington NORI bricks. There was even a magic brick with very special magical properties. Gilead rapped smartly on the door. The blacker than pitch, magical, thaumaterges fairy-quarters slid to one side above the sturdy, ancient, front door. A fairy popped it's head out and looked down.

"Oh, how lovely, you've brought someone back. Hmmm, he looks nice. How's about we...."

"Shut up Whufter and open the door before I magic your bumhole shut for good this time." said Gilead impatiently, as the prophesy was about to become reality.

"Ok... Ok... don't get your beard in a twist, I was only Joshin'." said the fairy. The door opened soundlessly with a deep dark creek.

The pair walked in to the hallway and through to the Wizards study. There was a note on the main thaumaterge table. "Gilead, Thanks. Got go meeting. Later. Archie."

"Oh well. That was the Archduke. He had to go to a meeting. He must have left in the last few minutes the ink is still wet. I'm surprised we didn't bump into him." said Gilead thoughtfully.

Bart looked around the Thaumatergey Room. He saw a bong! He knew Wizards smoked but wow! He looked with interest at the contents of the room. It was amazing. What the fuck was that there in the corner?... He would never know because;

The bong went D-O-N-G three times and three smoke rings popped one after the other out of the top of it.

Thaumaturge Gilead Gilespie turned to Bartholomew: "Ahhh three o'clock, great stuff, just time for a nice mug of tea. Do you fancy one?"

"That'd be nice." responded the clart.

"Im going to have to move that Magic Bong Clock. It get's a bit much as the hours move on. I changed it from 24hr to 12hr last week. The air was that thick with gange smoke nobody could get in here after midday." continued the wizard as he shuffled over to the kettle hanging in the open fireplace.

Bart whinced. His niece Voluptou Mumbles had a friend called Phylis who would have set the clock to Midnight on the 24hr cycle, then take the batteries out... or whatever it was that stopped it from chiming 24 times continuously.

"Bartholomew, You don't happen to have any Cadburys Dairy Milk on you have you.? I love that pint and a half of full cream, dairy goodness, chocolate you humans make."

"Sadly no Gilead. I do however have an emergency bar of the rebranded Kraft Dearyme Milk though, made with a full, really big, glass and a half of warm, fresh, buffalo spunk for every half ounce of chocolate. Would you like to try that?"

"No. I will give it a miss cheers." said Gilead hurriedly.

"Suit yourself." said Bartholomew, before taking a bite out of the chocolate. "For crying out loud the daft sod's have put salt in it instead of sugar. I'm taking that back to Ye Olde Corner Shoppe for a full cream refund." he continued as he put the bar back in his pocket, and the Thaumaterge stood there with his mouth open, shaking his head in disbelief like you.

"Quick Bart, it is time for the prophesy to come true. You are the chosen one. The Dwarves have been keeping their eye on you for years. You are destined to kill Soreone...

When owd Bartholomew comes down the passage to you.
It won't be three, it won't be two.
To kill Soreone with his new ice pick.
That'll teach him, the fucking prick.

It all makes sense now. Soreone will make an entrance soon."

"Why me?" asked Bart puzzled.

"Because you are old enough to realise it is for the best. You have had a good life and could end this tyranny by twatting him in the head with your magical icepick. You were destined to die tonight anyway, so if you pulled off this amazing feat but died in the process, it would only be a few hours earlier than scheduled. This is the prophesy. Our prophesies in the magical world are different to the ones in yours. One of your human prophesies could get here first, but the odds on that are a trillion to one, unless they are linked, which is ludicrous to say the leas..."

The HDTV one hundred inch plasma screen suddenly sparked to life. A shadow apeared on it.

"I am Soreone. I am here as prophesized." said Soreone.

"What the heck!?!? You are supposed to come in person so Bart could twat you with his ice pick, you cheat." said Gilead.

"You fool Gilead. You don't understand do you. I am Soreone, the power behind The Toilet Seat. When the shit hits The Rim, I send out my Brown Riders to bum people to death.... err... normally." said Soreone.

Bartholomew was mortified. That had nearly happened to him a few months ago. He didn't much fancy it again if he was to be perfectly honest. Dieing in bed, at night, on his own, seemed quite a nice way to go now.

"I'm not here to piss about listening to a wanky Wizard you bearded tit. It ends now." boomed Soreone.

Gilead smirked: "I have changed the title to The Wizard and The Wanker. It is magicificated there forever. It is no longer called The Lanky Manky Wanky Wizard in the Slightly Spooky Woods. Of course the readers now know it is you that is The Wanker and not dear old Bart.... Err, just a moment what ends now?"

"The planet Earth. I've had enough. Well actually I'm going to be a bit busy for a while, so won't have time to tit about. I thought that because I didn't fancy being busy I would end the world and take you all with me. Barts magical ice pick is useless. When the prophesy was made nobody knew that flat screens would be invented. I hope that's a plasma and not an LCD as it's so big."

Gilead nodded. He was well up on techie stuff, always had been. He was computing all the information and realised the job was fucked. As he saw the shadow of Soreone about to press the button to release all The Worlds nuclear warheads to the earths core, whilst simultaneously releasing the Magical Surface Melting Virus he had got The Archduke to steal from the Porton Down, Armaggedon and Apocalypse Facility.

At the same time, whilst Soreone's hand was going for the button, Bartholomew was disappointed that he would never see a wizard doing a spell... though he had heard and smelled one doing a smell... and now rueing that he hadn't asked Gilead - who was seven feet tall, the lanky fucker - what the brick propped up by the front door did... which meant that he would never find out what the magic brick with very special magical properties actually did... How annoying!

The Wizard finally understood... but it was too late. As the hand seemed to take a while getting to the button he made up his mind. The Wanker deserved this...

Gilead shouted at the top of his voice as Bart looked on in horror: "CHRIS JAMES IS A LIEING BASTARD. HE ISN'T MARRIED. WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD MARRY THAT CUN......."

It was at this moment that the surface of The World suddenly melted.