The Waiting Room

The Magician walked into the darkened room and sat down, the polished-chrome chair scraping loudly against the marble floor as he awkwardly scooted closer to the table. He wasn't sure why he had been summoned here; he couldn't recall anything really unusual having happened in the past week or so--nothing in the past decade, for that matter. why on earth would they have called him in?

He ran his hand back and forth nervously on the cold glass tabletop. The sweat from his palm left an ugly streak, and when he tried to polish it away with his sleeve he only succeeded in creating an even uglier smear. He reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a brilliant red silk scarf, but before he could try again to wipe the table, the scarf vanished and became a silver-headed ebony walking-stick. Normally this would have pleased him no end, and very likely would have brought rousing applause from the crowds, but right now it was very inconvenient. He leaned the stick against the table, but it clattered to the floor and slowly rolled to the other end of the room.

Once again he reached to his pocket and withdrew another silk, this time peacock-blue, and mopped his brow. He crumpled the handkerchief into a loose ball and reached again to wipe the table, but as the cloth landed it transformed into several dozen butterflies of the same brilliant teal hue. They darted around the room for several minutes before vanishing into the darkness that hung near the ceiling despite the tasteful pendant lights that hung over the table and reflected from its surface.

This did actually bring a thin smile to his lips. He relaxed a bit, then, and reached into the empty space before his eyes and pulled a cigarette, lit of course, from the nothingness there. Puffing slowly, he let out a huge cloud of smoke which then drifted to the center of the room and turned into a small rain-cloud, lightning and all. At the tiny crack of thunder he actually chuckled lightly and decided to enjoy the wait a bit. He waved a hand casually at the potted ficus in the corner and it transformed into a small pig. Quite surprised, the pig squealed loudly and began to run around the room. The Magician did not find this as amusing as he had expected and waved his hand again, transforming the pig instead into a deep green dragon with sparkling gold scales on his belly. The dragon swung his head around slowly toward the Magician, who found himself again feeling nervous. The dragon smiled, made a low rumbling growl, and swallowed the Magician whole.

"Cocky bastard," the dragon growled, then promptly turned back into a ficus, leaving the room silent but for the sizzle and crack of the tiny electrical storm raining itself out over the conference table.