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Flash Friday 26/09/2014: Wish Upon a Morningstar

September 26, 2014

Hugh, the museum creator, thought the sparkles coming off of the armour were due to the polish he had just applied. It was around about the moment that an ethereal light began to shine from under its visor, however, that he knew something else was up.

“Greetings,” the armour spoke, in a deep metallic voice. “You have polished the Blessed Armour of King Davidson, which entitles you to one, and only one, wish of your choosing.”

Hugh blinked, readjusting the round spectacles on his balding head. “A wish?”

The armour’s left hand raised in a cacophony of squeaks, the gauntlet holding up its index finger. “One wish. Under one condition. If you wish for the death of someone, for unlimited resource, for more wishes, or for other examples of being a smartarse, you shall face the excruciating pain that is the Curse of the Davidsons.”

“A curse?” Hugh said, his voice airy. “And what is that curse?”

“I kick you in the groin.”

“Oh.” Hugh grimaced. “Well, alright then. I promise that I won’t try to be clever.”

“Very well. Now, what will your wish be?”

Hugh pondered on the question. “See, I want a lot, but I don’t want to be too greedy. So, let’s say…a million pound cheque, please.”

Silence filled the empty, after-dark museum. The armour still glowed, but it was the only sign that it was still alive. Finally, it spoke once more; “Sorry, a million what?”

“Pounds. You know. Money. A million pounds.”

“Yes, I know that, the other bit.”

“Oh, the cheque?”

“Yes, that’s the one. What’s that?”

Hugh frowned. “What do you mean, you don’t know what a cheque is?”

“Look, I’m a medieval set of armour. Do you honestly think I know what a bloody cheque is? I can only manifest what I know, after all.”

Hugh sighed, “So you can’t give me a million pounds.”

“Oh, I can. Just in coins, that’s all.”

“No, never mind. If I brought a bag of those to the bank cashier, they’d murder me. So, if you can’t make a million pound cheque, what can you make?”

The armour shrugged. “Well, you know. Swords. Bread. Mud. Armour, of course, but not me. Jewels. Castles. You know, that sort of thing.”

Hugh leaned forwards in interest. “You could make me a castle?”

“Uh, well, see, it’ll have to be a small one. A very small one, at that. I can’t really create very big things.”

“That’s fine, as long as it’s big enough.”

“Well…we’re talking very small.”

“How small?”

“A foot tall.”

“A foot? How do you expect anyone to want a foot-tall castle?”

The armour shrugged again. “Do you own a dog?”

Hugh rolled his eyes. “Okay, nevermind. I take it that stuff like a fast car is out of the question.”

“A what?”

“A car. It’s a mode of transportation.”

The armour snapped its fingers. “Ah, you want a horse.”

Hugh shook his head. “No, no. Cars are like…armoured horses with wheels on them.”

“Ah, so you want a horse and cart.”

“No, just…augh, forget it. All this talk has made me rather sour about all this wishing guff, now.”

“Oh, go on,” the armour said, nudging Hugh with an elbow. “Just the one.”

“I supposed it’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing. You mentioned jewels earlier, didn’t you? What kind of jewels can you make? Emeralds? Diamonds?”

“Oh, yes. I can do all of that stuff. Except, uh, you’ll have to make it yourself.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I can’t just, you know, give you a jewel.”

“Why not.”

“It’d be cheating. So, instead, I give you a rock, and you do the things needed to turn it into a jewel. You know, all that stuff about intense heat and pressure and the like. So, I suppose you just sit on it for a long time.”

Hugh rubbed his temples. “I can see this wishing business is getting nowhere.”

The armour snorted. “Well, sorry for giving you something for absolutely free. It’s not like it’s easy to materialise something out of thin air, you know.”

“Is there anything you feel confident that you can make? Something that doesn’t come with a catch, that appears usable and ready to go?”

The armour scratched under its chin for a little while. “Plague?”

“Alright, that’s it, I’m done.”

“No, please.” The armour placed a hand on the retreating Hugh’s shoulder. “Just one thing. Just a tiny thing. Come on.”

Hugh pondered on the request for a little while. “Alright, then. Do you think you can manage a codpiece?”

“You mean, a suit of armour?”

“No, just the codpiece. That’s all I want. The codpiece part of the armour.”

“I can grant you any wish you like–”

“Arguable, but sure.”

“–and all you want from me is a codpiece?”

“Look, you’re the one that said ‘a tiny thing’, right? So that’s my ‘thing’. A codpiece.”

“…well, alright then.”

A glowing yellow band appeared around Hugh’s waist, humming a steady tone. When both the glowing and the sound dissipated, all that was left was a metal codpiece around Hugh, looking as sturdy and protective as he’d like.

“Thank you,” Hugh said with a smile. “It’s very nice.”

“Not a problem. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Sure. While you’re at it, can I have infinite wishes, please?”

The right leg of the armour shot upwards, catching Hugh between his legs. What would have been a painful blow, however, was dulled immensely by Hugh’s new piece of armour, the only effect on him being a slight lift off of the floor.

The armour pointed an accusing finger at Hugh. “Smartarse.”

Hugh shrugged, removing himself from the foot and walking off. “Yep. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

963 words

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5 Comments
  1. That was hilarious! Of course I do wonder if the codpiece can be removed… 🙂

  2. If you’re going to be a smartarse it helps to be prepared.

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