Make Wizardry Great Again
By Rednal Sua
Drum and Mellie were an ordinary but successful couple, and the last sort of people you might expect to get involved in any kind of juvenile magic, simply because they didn't stand for that kind of bullshit, thank you very much! Drum was a successful American businessman and Mellie had long been working hard in the incredible arena of fashion. They were both glowing examples of what you can achieve in life if you set your mind to it.
When our story begins, Drum was on his golf course at Hogberry: nothing he would boast of you understand, but honestly the largest in Scotland and the envy of everyone in the world. Drum was a big, beefy man with big, marvellous hair (all natural too!) and orange skin. The Slavic beauty Mellie was draped over him in his golf cart, reading a brochure, and in the driver's seat was a bulky man in — my goodness! — full highland dress.
His name was Chris. Drum and Chris had long been best buddies in New York, and when one drunken night Chris had confided that his father was Scottish, Drum had promised to fly him over in his private jet. Once he was safely across the pond, Drum had decked him out in a red kilt, argyll hose, a black barathea jacket with silver buttons, horse hair sporran, and bagpipes: he really did have to carry the bagpipes everywhere you know!
"Vot a beautiful day," said Mellie. "To be een such a vorld-class luxury desteenation. A breathtaking landscape and a moody sky casteeng vonderful shadows on dee heavily contoured greens." She narrowed her eyes but not because she was feeling suspicious: it was her sign that somebody was supposed to admire and compliment her at that point.
"I'm starving," muttered Chris. He was trying to turn the vehicle, which struggled under the responsibility of carrying the weighty dignitaries across the links.
"Keep going straight," said Drum.
"But your ball went over there," said Chris.
"Trust me, this is the right direction."
"Ven you can stop een dee vine textured, tight turv of dee undulateeng terrain," said Mellie. She beamed and narrowed her eyes. She was slender with tight skin and heavy makeup like an air hostess.
The cart stopped.
"Okay folks, I'm real busy so we're gonna go quickly," said Drum.
Chris hauled out the bags. It was almost lunchtime, he was thinking.
"I am really proud to be here at the final hole," said Drum. "With my bee-yootiful and successful wife, Mellie."
"Today I zink dee only leemeet to dee achievements ees dee strength of dee dreams," said Mellie.
"Hey, is that a hot dog stand right there?" said Drum.
Chris spun on his heel with an agility remarkable for a man so large. There was nothing there.
"Nah, musta been a mirage," said Drum.
Chris turned back. He blinked. As if by some magic spell, Drum's golf ball had appeared only an arm's length from the hole!
"Lemme tell you something, I'm really good at this game," said Drum.
"Vot an amazing golfer," said Mellie.
"Jesus," grumbled Chris. "Gimme a fucking break. That's the third time today you got lucky."
"C'mon Chrissy, say it like a pure-blooded Scotsman," said Drum grinning broadly.
For a moment the enormous man looked as if he were going to explode. Then he seemed to remember something and gave a weak grin. "Jings!" he said. "Och ah dinna ken Mr. Tonnal is so jammy in the gammy! Ah cannae believe —"
"Nice try," said Drum. "I gotta treat for you, Chrissy. I'm gonna show you something."
He reached into the bag and pulled out a golf club he hadn't used yet. It was made of solid gold.
"I show this golf club to very few people. Presidents. Kings. This is the best golf club in the world. I give lessons with this golf club."
"Ve need to pass doze lessons on to dee manny generations," said Mellie. She narrowed her eyes.
Drum took his first swing.
"Yee-ouch!" Chris wished he could have put on something protective under the kilt.