Jason Sweeney

I feel like you post Sloan lyrics to get proof-of-life from me.

"There are three kinds of magic," said Wizzler, handing us each a balloon. "You can control tigers, you can shoot tornadoes from your fingers, or you can fly by holding your breath. The color of confetti inside your balloon will reveal which kind of power you have." I felt the panic rising in me. What if my confetti turned yellow, indicating that I was a Tiger-Talker? My family, a long line of proud Tornado-Fingers, would disown me. Could I ever return home, bearing such shame? I tried to calm myself as I readied the ceremonial safety pin. Green, I thought, willing my hopes into reality. Please be green. I popped the balloon, involuntarily shutting my eyes. When I opened them, would I see the green I hoped for? The yellow I feared? What if, gods forbid, the confetti were blue? I opened my eyes, seeing shock on the faces of my classmates. Wizzler himself stared at me, wide-eye. Looking down, I saw myself covered in confetti... purple confetti.

“I don’t understand,” I growled, my body trembling with pain. “I combined eighty percent Earth-elemental mana with twenty percent Fire-elemental mana (Type B), focused through a twenty-four-sided icositetragon made of yellow topaz. This, in conjunction with my blood type, star sign, sense of humor, and nickname, should have produced a blazing column of lightning to vaporize my enemies. Instead, it made a big bubble that smells like fresh laundry. Why?” Skullgrumbler began to laugh. “You fool! You don’t even realize…” he squealed. “You’re facing east!”

“It’s whatever you want,” explained Magemaster Grampledog. “Magic is just whatever you want.” I knew he was speaking in riddles, but I couldn’t grasp his hidden meaning. “So the rules are…” Grampledog lit a sliver of smokereed. “No rules. You say some words and you wave a stick and whatever you want just happens. You don’t even need the stick.” His wisdom still eluded me. I stared into his face, trying to decipher what he was really saying. “No, listen.” Grampledog snapped his fingers and his desk turned into a pile of chicken nuggets. “I didn’t even know that would happen.” His hat then came alive and began to yodel. “It’s pandemonium,” he explained. “It’s complete nonsense.”

In my experience there are three kinds of fantasy magic novels:

I was at first horrified. Then realized you have beauty waiting in your future.

GOOD LUCK! STAY SAFE! TRY TO NAP!

Benjamin Sisko: Mall Cop

Me: Fellate a minion? Yes please!
Snooty waiter: It’s pronounced filet mignon.

I’m petrified about today’s science news. Genetically modifying crabs to have cheetah genes? This could go sideways fast.

Doooooooooo it.

That’s my flag.

Happy Canada Day.

JULIET: I will kiss thy lips; haply some poison yet doth hang on them!

*kiss*

ROMEO: (throwing his voice) Maybe there's poison on his dong?

Superman.

This is relevant to my interests.

I draw a picture every year for my wife’s birthday. This one deals with an unfortunate truth about her.

A black and white drawing of my wife as a witch queen (which she is most definitely NOT) hovering in a dark wood with or car Rory gleefully looking on.

Happy Birthday, Witch Queen. Here's your birthday drawing. I love you. May your dreams be filled with vengeance and spite.

And that's why I call her by the nickname: "Witch Queen". She's most definitely NOT a witch queen, but it makes her SO HAPPY when I call her a witch queen. And I like nothing better in this world than to make her happy.

You see, my wife is very sweet and empathetic and kind. She is righteous and noble and pure. Honestly, she’s a *paladin*.

And she HATES it. She'd rather be a force of darkness — a malevolent entity living beyond the ends of night.

I draw a picture every year for my wife’s birthday. This one deals with an unfortunate truth about her.

[Looks at news] "Should have kept walking into the sea."

We’re much more efficient. (She doesn’t fill it.)

No spoilers, please. I’m only at Pope Leo IX.

Welcome to the rebellion.

Well, they did tell you where they would be living.

You *do not* know what it is like when that line gets SCREAMED by a Canadian audience.

I laughed out loud. And then got real quiet. Oh thank god, I didn’t wake her up.

Voted early, saw “Sinners”, and now we’re in Mexico. In case you were wondering how we like to Easter.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“Would eat again”