We’ve Got Magic To Do

On my way home from the gym the other morning, I passed by Abracadabra (with my compliments and blessing, please feel free to not be able to get the Steve Miller song out of your head all day) and noted with glee that, at long last, a position was available for which I was perfectly qualified:

As luck would have it, I just so happened to have my black top hat, complete with white rabbit tucked neatly inside (this is, after all, part of my gym attire), so I had no problem securing the job. Even if I had not had the hat/rabbit, however, I would have been able to produce it in a jiffy, given that I am, yes, magic. See, I am what they call the real deal.
I introduced myself to my new colleagues, who include the following charmers:

oldyeller.jpg sullenchristopherwalken.jpg
Old Yellers and Sullen Christopher Walken
I do not ordinarily make a habit of befriending people who do not have the common decency to maintain a certain level of dental hygiene, but a great deal of the appeal of the Old Yellers three-pack is a fierce commitment to having the yellowest teeth this side of corn cobs. I may not be crazy about what they commit themselves to, but I admire anyone who devotes himself to his passion. And if that passion is yeller teef, then so be it.
Speaking of commitment, the office manager, Sullen Christopher Walken, sports what I have learned is his trademark white straightjacket-ish jacket, all the rage among the sullen set this season. So far all I have seen him do is sulk and skulk, but, like Old Yellers, he is devoted to his task and craft, and in this I find great comfort.
Lest you think that the mysterious world of magic was only populated by menfolk, please know that women are welcome as well. (After all, I, too, am a woman, despite what you may have heard.) Among my new acquaintances is this pretty pair:

Unfortunate Dowager and Boozin’ Medusa
I trust their names speak for themselves.
I must confess, though, that as off-putting as my other co-workers’s appearances may be, I continue to be most frightened of and by my administrative assistant:

Mini Marie Osmond
Because the innocent ones are always the ones who wind up getting you in the end. And no one holds an electric candle to her.

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