Date: Wed, 6 Nov 1996 23:52:52 -0500 (EST)
From: Radioactive Loner
Subject: Spells 'R Us: Sound Mind, Sound Body
Spells 'R Us: Sound Mind, Sound Body
by Radioactive Loner
I was walking in the mall, growing more depressed by the
minute. It was summer, and I had reverted to my usual T-
shirt and knee-length shorts. Women around the mall were
wearing halter tops and shorts, and looking extremely fine --
and not even bothering to give me a second look. A problem,
I guess, when you weigh as much as I do. You constantly hear
how women just want a "nice guy," but unless that "nice guy"
looks like an Adonis, they won't give him a second look.
As I walked past the bookstore, I noticed a small store
tucked into an alcove I hadn't noticed before. The sign also
attracted my attention. Instead of the shiny gold metal of
other signs, or the neon gaudiness of yet others, this was
elegantly hand-carved into wood. "Spells 'R Us," the sign
read. I opened the door and entered the shop.
A faint, pleasant yet musty aroma greeted me. A wizened
old man approached me, conservatively dressed.
"Hello, Douglas. I'm glad you like the look of my shop."
I glanced at him somewhat sharply. "I'm sorry, have we
met before?"
"No," said the man, smiling ruefully. "I seem to have
to explain this with every customer. Gets quite tiresome --
ah, well. I'm a wizard, my boy. I can tell what you are
thinking once you enter this shop. And I understand what
ails you."
"That being ... ?" I asked, looking at him askance.
"That being, my friend, that you want to impress the
ladies with your body instead of your mind."
I gaped. "How did ... wow. You really are a wizard!
I've always enjoyed reading stuff like this, but to ... "
"Doug, do you mind me giving you some advice?"
"Not at all, sir."
"Right now, I can understand you wanting all the
muscles. But if you can be patient, as women mature, a lot
of them will be looking for someone who is sensitive and
caring. A nice bod," he said, tapping me in the gut with his
cane, "is good in the sack, my boy, but it's what's up here,"
now tapping my temple lightly, "that the lady will live with
for the other twenty-four hours."
"But, sir, they don't seem to be that way now."
"Ah, well," he said, sighing softly. "The impatience of
youth. Well, boy, I can help you. But when -- I'm sorry, I
meant *if*, things get bad, come back to the shop." He
looked at me hard. "Remember that, boy. Stick it into your
skull as hard as you can. I like you. Not many of your
generation are as respectful."
"Um, thank you, sir. If you don't mind me asking, you
said ... um, that you can help me?"
"Yes," he said. One gnarled hand reached below the
counter and reemerged with a dusty, dark-colored opaque vial.
"Mix one drop with anything you drink, boy. You'll find that
your appearance will grow more attractive to the ladies of
your age. But I warn you: you may find other of your merits
lessening, however."
"How much would this cost?" I said as I pulled out my
wallet. He waved his hand at me.
"No, do not worry about cost. I am doing you no favor.
Well, perhaps I shall -- this," he said, striking the
counter, "is what I shall do. I shall see you again, my boy,
and if you judge the experience worthwhile, we shall discuss
payment then. Remember, my boy. Come back to the shop if
need be."
I took the vial and slipped it into my pocket. "Thank
you, sir."
"Do not thank me, boy. As I told you, I am doing you no
favor." And with that, he shooed me out and put up a sign on
his door that said, "Closed for Lunch." I then saw the old
man hobble into the back.
* * *
As I walked along the mall towards the food court, I saw
a mother approaching with her child in those knapsack
contraptions that mothers seem to be wearing nowadays. The
child was adorably cute, however, and I had to stop and say
hello. The little baby's name was Jennifer. "How long have
you had her?" I asked the mother.
"Oh, with this little troublemaker, it seems like ages,"
the mother replied. I chuckled along with her and then waved
goodbye to the little tyke. The baby mimicked my gesture,
but ... the child's eyes had to be the most unhappy eyes I
had ever seen. It put a damper on the run-in.
* * *
I took a seat and unwrapped my Big Mac. But first, I
took the lid off my soft drink and then removed the small
cork from the vial. I very carefully let one drop from the
vial fall into the Coca-Cola. I replaced the lid, and
reached for the drink. Taking a deep breath, I began sipping
the Coca-Cola through the straw. To my surprise, it tasted
the same.
I finished the rest of my meal, disposed of the trash,
and began walking down towards a music store. Suddenly, I
felt the sensation of my jeans simply falling down. I
quickly grabbed at them before they exposed ... well,
anything ... and noticed at the same time that my underwear
had nearly slid down with them. I grabbed at my belt and
pulled it tight ... and noticed that I had to pull it a lot
more than I had before.
My mind raced. I had to get to a bathroom and quickly.
I walked quickly down to a department store and slipped into
a stall in their bathroom. I undid my belt and let my jeans
slide to the floor, and pulled my shirt over my head.
* * *
Now for you to understand this part, you must know that
I am not precisely the most trim person in the world. Or ...
here's the kicker ... I *wasn't*. I was pretty damn fat, in
fact. Potbelly with several folds, jiggly thighs, the whole
works. And I bet you can guess why my jeans fell down.
Yeah, pretty much every single fold of fat had
disappeared. To my definite pleasant surprise. I must have
dropped at least six to eight inches in my waist. And I
didn't have anything shaking in front of me "like a bowl full
of jelly" when I walked! (Trust me, it's nice on Santa, but
not on a twenty-four-year old!)
I pulled up my jeans, grabbed my shirt, and walked out.
Problem was, I looked like an idiot with these enormously
baggy clothes. So I went up to the men's department and
grabbed some new smaller jeans and shirts, and headed up to
the cashier.
"Should be about $38, right?" I said to the cashier.
"Try about $54, honey," she said, smiling back at me.
WOW!, I thought. She smiled at me! It has been so long
since someone that good-looking even ... I felt much happier
than I had been in a while.
* * *
Walking home, feeling much lighter and more energetic, I
stopped and looked at a mini-mall along the street. The day
was very hot, and I went to grab a drink from the water
fountain outside. I took a sip of water, then realized I
could take another drop now. I let one drop fall on my
finger, then licked it clean. As I walked away from the
water fountain, I felt my skin tingle all over my chest and
legs, and I heard a girl wolf-whistle.
I turned around and smiled. She came up to me, and we
chatted for a while, and she gave me her telephone number.
As I continued to walk home, the day became hotter, and
I decided to take off my shirt -- it was something I hadn't
done since childhood, embarrassed of my gut hanging out. I
was amazed at what I looked like. Well-defined pectoral and
abdominal muscles greeted my gaze. A car stopped. "Hey,
good-looking!" a girl yelled. "Get in!"
"You got it, babe," I said, swinging into the back.
* * *
"Hey, there. My name's Charlie, and this is Sam. We're
sorority sisters," said the girl sitting in the back with me.
I found myself staring at her breasts.
"You have ... uh, nice, uh ... you look really nice," I
managed to stutter out. Why couldn't I tell this girl what a
bitchin' fox she was?
"Thanks," she said and dimpled. She ran a hand along my
bare chest. "You look really hot."
"Yeah," I said, "it's really warm out there."
"No," she said, batting my arm.. "I mean, you look
really *hot*."
"Oh," was all I could say. I found something in my now-
not-so-loose jeans stirring, and evidently so did Charlie.
The rest of the car ride was ... interesting.
* * *
When I got home late that evening, I looked at myself in
the mirror. I was really good-looking. If the tradeoff was
some conversational ability, absolutely no problem. I let
another drop fall into my mouth, and watched the results.
My muscles deepened in form and sculpture. I could now
flex and see muscles move on my body. I found tight Umbros
in one of my drawers that hadn't been there before, and put
them on.
I walked outside, grateful for the skin-tight breathable
garb in this heat.
A friend I had known came up to me. "Doug," she said.
"I find myself ... so attracted to you."
I opened my mouth and said what came to mind. "Uh, you
look really hot, Patricia. Wanna fuck?"
But something in the back of my mind worried me.
* * *
Day four, and this drop emptied the bottle. I now
watched as my already ample physique deepened even further
into a physique that rivaled the detail and mass of Arnold
Schwarzenneger's.
I walked outside and a woman shrieked at me. "That
man's not wearing any clothes!"
I looked down, and realized I had forgotten to put on
anything. I ran back into my house and put on shorts and a
T-shirt. I walked down the street and walked into a shop.
"Uh ... " I found myself in front of the counter. "I
... want ... um ... some ... " I found myself at a loss for
words.
"What?" said the impatient storekeeper.
"That *stuff*," I said. "That *stuff*."
"Gee, that only narrows it down to a few *MILLION*
things, moron," he said.
I yelled in anger and pushed him hard in the chest. He
flew over the counter and into a display rack. He moaned in
pain, and I stood there, looking at my hands. My mind felt
as if it was moving through molasses.
Some assistant ducked in the back, and I soon heard an
alarm. He came back with a gun. "Stay there," he said, "I'm
warning you." The storekeeper moaned on the floor.
I looked at the gun. Words bubbled to the surface of my
thinking. "Gun ... harm." I threw out my arm, and the gun
went flying, and the assistant grasped at his hand in pain.
"You broke my hand!" he yelled.
I looked at my bare chest, at my meaty fingers, and at
the scene of carnage in front of me. And I couldn't think.
I just FELT. I FELT horrible. This ... wasn't right. And
suddenly something murky from the depths of my shrinking
memory came. "When things get bad, boy, come back to the
shop. Remember that. Stick it in your skull."
I ran out the door, feeling powerful muscles push me,
and hearing a siren wailing in the distance.
As I approached the mall, a small door opened in the
back. "Quick, quick, Douglas, in here."
I ran in his door, and it sealed behind him. He raised
a gnarled hand to my temple and spoke a few words, and I felt
the sense of my body suspend itself as if weightless, then
slump into a new posture. At the same time, I felt the murk
that had paralyzed my brain dissipate.
I looked at myself and saw the potbelly and fat thighs
sagging out of the Umbros. The old man smiled and brought me
a pair of baggy jeans and T-shirt.
"Douglas," he said. "Your story ends much happier than
some of my other customers. I give you your life back the
way it was. And now I teach you a lesson, right?"
"No," I said. "I don't understand."
"Ah, youth these days." The man's face darkened, and he
whapped me moderately hard alongside the head.
"Idiot! This, *THIS* is the lesson. It is that brains
is better than brawn. It is *this*," he says, grasping my
head harder with his hands, "*this* that can move you
anywhere. You want a good body? That is good. But let
*this*," shaking my head, "move you there, not any of my
potions or elixirs or magic. Meantime, you got brains, you
got words. You can move mountains."
"You are a *good* *kid*," he says, as if pronouncing an
edict on me. "You just need to wise up a little bit. Be
patient about love, my friend, and let *this*," he said,
tapping me on the head once more, "move you where you want to
go." He tapped me on the head once more, and I felt
blackness surround me. When consciousness returned, I found
myself standing outside the nook where I had first noticed
the store. The store was nowhere to be seen.
(
geocities.com/westhollywood/heights/2671) (
geocities.com/westhollywood/heights) (
geocities.com/westhollywood)