11. Field Trip

Dax sneered at me. “You ain’t funny.”

CHOICES is the first book in the Chronicles of a Hero fantasy series. This is the story of Wendell P. Dipmier, who I’ve been writing about since 1990. I hope you’ll join me on this new adventure….as I tell the honest, complete story of this amazing 17 year old, exclusively on Life of Fiction.

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CHAPTER 11

Before I could blink, everything on the kitchen table came to life. Utensils and place settings stood at attention, while the pancakes shifted over, creating a perfect, uniform stack. To the left of where they stood, cupboard doors swung open wildly and empty containers leaped through the air towards the table.

“Best not to let the food spoil,” said Chuck. “Don’t want to be wasteful, now, do we?”

All I could do was slowly nod my head in agreement as the animated ballet continued. Container tops popped off while food promptly jumped in, adjusting to fit just right. Eggs slid over, sausages aligned like sardines in a can, and my untouched orange juice arched high overhead, jumping into an awaiting pitcher. Not a drop on the table, not a crumb on the floor. Within moments, everything neatly packaged itself nice and tight.

“Ok, help me,” Chuck stammered. Dashing across the floor, he hastily grabbed the egg container and orange juice pitcher, turned, and shoved them into my hands. “Here,” he whispered, “follow my lead.”

Dax rounded the corner, strutting back into the kitchen. He immediately skidded to a halt. “Heyyy, I thought it was MY turn to put the food away?”

The wizard shook his head firmly. “Nope. You have dishes.”

Dax scowled. “I did them last time.”

“Don’t think so,” Chuck replied. Placing an index finger on his lower lip, he stared at the ceiling. “Uh, nope. You have dishes. Besides, Wendell and I already put the food away.”

Dax looked between us warily. “No magic?”

Chuck stood upright and placed a hand over his chest. “Why would I use magic when I have Wendell here to help me?” he huffed. “Silly monkey.”

Grumbling, Dax yanked open a cabinet door and pulled out a stepping stool. “Good. If I have to do dishes manually, you better be doin’ the same.”

I was about to say something, but then I realized I didn’t have a good reason to do so. Why should I help the grouchy one, right? I decided to just grin instead.