the magician who could turn into a goldfish

Reon was sitting in his study, reading the latest issue of "magicians quarterly" when he heard a knock at the door and some unfamiliar voices.

 He jumped with a start. Were they burglers, or worse, creditors? He'd told the Jephsons the week before he had some jobs lined up. Maybe they had sent some thugs around to speed up his repayments. Where was the scrying glass? 

 Bother, it was in the bedroom, he'd been "checking up" on one of the neighbours the night before. If he went to get it, they would be able to see him through the glass front door.

  They were now talking loudly enough, he could hear their discussion.

"He must be home, he spends most of his time in bed reading those bloody journals."

 "While smoking that ratty old pipe of his! Reading will be the death of him."

 "His buggy is here, he must be home."

 "Unless he's gone for a walk?" Said a woman's voice.

 "In this weather? It's freezing I tell you, absolutely ghastly."

 "I say, just knock on the door with your cane again, there's a good chap"

 "I've knocked several times already. You can see the impressions on the door"

 They were going to break the door down! 

 "Is it locked? Go on, try it. I'm sure he won't mind if we wait for him inside, given the weather."

 Too late, Reon realised he'd forgotten to lock the front door. He heard them opening the door and coming inside! As a one of the most powerful magicians in the city, there was only one thing for it. Quick as a flash, he turned into a goldfish and lept into the fish bowl beside his reading chair.

 Reon could hear them indistinctly as they searched the house. He swam in a few worried circles and then hid in the clay boot as the door to his study opened.

 In came his best friend, Jenkins! The burglaring traitor! He must want my books! He was with another, burly, man, carrying a top hat, and a shorter man with a cravat. Reon made sure to note the distinctive birthmark on the short mans face, in case he need to identify him later for the police.

 Last into the room was a shapely red-headed woman in a green dress. It was his neighbour, Marie Osterman! Curiouser and curiouser!

They all came into the room, having a good look at the books. The shorter man ran his thumb along the shelf, nodded appreciatively and then took a book off the shelf. It was a first edition of 'Dobsons Spells and Miscellany', a rare book out of print for 50 years. The shorter man looked inside it, saw it was a first edition, and astonished, put it back. Were they here to steal his books? The scoundrels! Once they left, he'd need to call the police. 

 As the group turned to leave, Jenkins exclaimed "Well, what jolly bad luck, I was sure he had said he wanted to go to the play with us. 'Of Persimmons and Passion fruit' is only on for a few more days."

 Dash it, he'd forgotten! He'd made a promise to Jenkins to see the play, Jenkins had been quite taken with the leading lady. So now he wasn't quite sure what to do.

 The group left the study, heading towards the front hall. In his haste, Reon splashed ungracefully out if the fish bowl, and landed, in human form, with a wet thump on the floor.

 Hearing "What was that bang?" come from the hallway, Reon kept to his feet and swiftly changed his neckkerchief into a bath towel. Marie, his curvaceous neighbour, cautiously opened the study door.

 "Sorry, I was occupied in the bath, what's this I hear about going to a play?" He attempted to say this as casually as he could, while rubbing his hair with the towel. Marie looked around, puzzled, as there were no other doors into or out of the study.

 "'Of Persimmons and Passion fruit' old bean" said Jenkins, as if that explained everything.

 "Of course", replied Reon, flinging the towel onto his reading chair.

 "Come along then", said Marie, taking him by the arm and guiding him out of the house. "The play won't watch itself".

the Zug under the rug

We first found out about the Zug under the rug when we one of our cats went missing. We found half of her in a room we didn't use much, by following the smell. I fetched a long handled brush and shovel from the kitchen, wondering where the other half of the cat was. The Zug under the rug tried to take the brush, and I left the room pretty quickly, to find my brother Carl. I could hear the Zug under the rug scrabbling around, trying to eat the brush, instead slapping it against chairs and knocking over lamps in its futile attempt. I guess this is what made it frustrated and precipitated what happened after.

 So I found Carl in the bathroom, brushing his teeth with the vigour of youth, and easily persuaded him to come take a look. On our way back we speculated how the Zug under the rug had gotten into the house (the broken window downstairs Dad had never repaired, or some other hole small enough to miss, but large enough to enter by).

By this time the Zug under the rug was seemingly content again, having consumed, or not, the long handled brush. Carl speculated about what kind of prey a Zug under a rug would have in the wild, if it was leaving half chewed cats out to attract more things to eat.

 I wondered if we could get it out by the usual trick, with scalding water, or wait it out until it died. Not much is known about Zugs under rugs, though Carl pointed out some crocodiles only need to eat once a year, so maybe it just needed half of the cat.

 By this time we were at the door, having taken about the most round about way from the bathroom to the lounge you could imagine. Carl was wearing a catchers mask, some fireproof gloves and a butchers apron we'd found last summer. I had the hard hat, a painters facemask and some shin guards.

 I looked at Carl, and he motioned for me to open the door, while he raised the ice hockey stick. We'd had a tussle about who would open the door, but in the end he had won by sitting on me.

 I raised the iron fryingpan in one hand, grabbed the door handle, and pushed the door open.

having a bath in the bathroom

So, I went overseas one time, and I was in the airport, feeling like I needed a refresh because I'd been on a long flight. So I went to the bathroom for a bath. I got my own cubicle, which was nice, but bath was really small, and the water was cold! I couldn't sit in the bath, like I normally would, so I had to stand, and put in, like my left leg, dry it, then put in my right leg, dry that etc. And the towels were really small too. But the best thing was that you cloud flush away the used towels and the dirty water.

 Then, when I finally got into the city, j was really tired. I found a rest room and thought "great,  maybe I can find a bed and have a nap" but it was another room with baths in it! I was really confused. There was a guy with a uniform on in there, I said to him "where are the beds" he said "there are no beds, here, have a towel". So I had another bath, and then found out the baths could convert to a seat, so I sat down and had a rest.