The Magicians' Realm Chapter 54: Early-Morning Calls and Late-Night Shows, a yu-gi-oh fanfic

Chapter 54, everybody! And who are we going to call?...Someone else….

For the record, tracking down the creators of the Shadow is a little spotty, as he was a character that more developed rather than sprang whole-cloth. Also, the 'make the rat your neighbor's problem' is a line lifted from Tom Bergeron's time as host of America's Funniest Home Videos—the clip had the rat trigger the trap while on top of it, which resulted in it being launched into oblivion. :D And the coffee up the nose bit happened to my Mom—it wasn't fun.

In other news, FanFiction's coding is evil, because it italicizes what I don't want italicized and apparently dislikes the "©" symbol.

Moving on! *clap*

Movie this week is The Big Friendly Giant—nice romp, good afternoon waster, a bit of a disjointed plot, and some very pretty concepts.

Angiembabe, thanks for the review! Yes indeed—although to him, it's just a piece of cloth…yes, I was smiling when I wrote that. Hey, whatever works! And yes he does—this is going to take some work….Good question….Eh, close—he mentions that he's about seventeen in Chapter 11, and for them the age where they can do all their vices is 25, so he's still a bit away from being old enough to go out on his own. For our comparisons, he's treated as though he's in his mid-teens. Hope that helps!

FicReader, thanks for the review! Yes, I love that movie—and that's true, it doesn't! Yes, she can use magic—she just isn't allowed to, for the reason you just mentioned. Me too—and me too. And most likely. Aha, hope you enjoy some then! :D

Fromtheashtrees, thanks for the review! Eh…Mr. Tern isn't that bad, nor is the guy at the bookkeepers—but yes, that's probably a contributing factor. Yes, someone has to be sensible in the face of alcohol—yay, I did! Ick. Yes—maybe I should send the Frost King your way….Bummer—maybe next time. Well that's good—and that's interesting. Have fun with that! ^^/

References:

The Shadow © Conde-Nast (exact date difficult to ascertain—first radio appearance was in 1930; first print appearance was in 1931)

Original characters, + setting © Kineil D. Wicks (myself, not the girl in the story)

Maxwell was flipping through the morning paper and enjoying his coffee when the phone rang. He ignored it for about five rings, before deciding it wasn't going away.

"Say pal!" he drawled upon answering. "I'm not in my office right now, but you can leave a message after the click!"

And then he hung up the phone.

It rang again a moment later.

"Great," he muttered, picking it up again. "Say pal, I'm not in—"

"Max, if you're not in your office, then who hung up the phone?"

"Wow, someone caught that," Maxwell said, rather surprised that it was Yami Skellington who did. "What do you want? Me to tell you if Sumbinix is in a talkative mood?"

"No. What are you doing in your office, anyway?" Yami asked. "I figured you came in later than I did."

"I'm paid for hours worked," Maxwell explained. "They count it as hours spent in the Administration Building. This office is bigger than my apartment flat—ergo, I moved out of my apartment and into a room where I'm paid to stay. See the beauty of it?"

Long silence. "You don't have a bed in there, do you?"

"I have the couch. Say pal, you don't sound so good."

"Marik was in town."

"I see. I'm not sure if I like you enough to run interference."

"Ah, but you do like the sort of thing I'm about to propose."

"Ooh, this sounds promising—what is it?"

"There's this dinky diner by the tracks over by the woods, looks like someone tried to pretty up an old railcar. I need an inspection conducted on it, pronto."

"Why? You get food poisoning?"

"The proprietor did make me ill."

"And I should do this because?"

"Because I asked nicely. And because I know this sort of thing makes you happy, for some odd reason."

"If you question my logic, I won't do it."

"Fine, fine. Will you do it?"

"Let me check my calendar."

He held the phone against his chest, pondering this for a moment. On the one hand, he'd have the Head Mage owing him a favor and get to bug some lousy-sounding jerk to boot. On the other hand…there was something just a mite suspicious about this—Yami didn't like making enemies, especially in the Commoner sector. Something was up.

And the fastest way to find out would be….

He put the phone back to his ear.

"Sure, pal!" he chimed. "You've got yourself a deal!"

"Thanks Max—you're a pal."

Uh-huh—see how long you sing that tune.

But first—time to wreak some havoc.

*/*\*

The 'make the rats your neighbors' problem' spell had taken maybe five minutes upon Greg arriving home. It was a minorly complex spell, but the Pied Piper spell had long been banned and most other spells killed the rats, which Abby did not like, and Greg knew better than to upset her. Best-case scenarios involved no help during harvesting and gardening and Larry being sent over for an extended stay. Not that he didn't like his father-in-law, but…he was taxing if exposed to for too long.

And he realized that despite making the rats and that folder other peoples' problems, he was still overly distracted, as he noted when he realized he was once again staring at one spot on the page again. At least it was before he got to bed.

He sighed and set the book on the end table before leaning forward and fiddling with the teleradio. The kids had long since gone to bed, and Grandpa Skelton had gone off on one of his walkabouts around Delvaire. He'd leave after dinner and be back a few days later, heading straight for the shower. And Greg knew this was to be a walkabout rather than an after-dinner stroll—after-dinner strolls did not require Grandpa Skelton's walking stick, nor singing "The Road Goes Ever On" from The Hobbit.

The beginning strains of Le Rouet d'Omphale started playing and he left it there. The Shadow's creepy laugh was seeping through the speakers when Jenna came back in with two mugs of cider.

"Ah, wonderful," she said, handing him a mug and snuggling up on the couch next to him.

"Mmm," he noised, taking a sip before putting the mug on the end table next to the book.

The only ones talking for the next five minutes were Lamont Cranston and Margo Lane.

"What's eating you?" Jenna asked finally.

"You first," Greg countered.

She took a sip of her cider before sighing. "I wish we could have gone with my idea."

"My mother would have had a conniption," Greg pointed out. "I wish Administrator Carter had left well enough alone."

"I thought you liked the idea of righting past wrongs."

"I do. But I like being able to sleep at night, too."

"And you're losing sleep?"

"I keep thinking about that stupid file."

Jenna sighed. Yes, it was hard to forget about that stupid file.

"A pity he's not around to solve these things for us," she said, indicating the teleradio, where the Shadow's laughter was echoing again.

"That would be so much easier," Greg agreed.

Silence again.

"How do you think the boys are holding up?" Greg asked.

"I think Yami would do better if you spent some time with him," Jenna pointed out.

"Maybe this weekend," Greg said, rubbing his forehead. "As soon as I get my head on straight."

"I'm still waiting for that."

"Ha ha, you're not funny."

They listened as the Shadow grilled a bad guy, and then a commercial for Blue Coal came on.

"You need to buy a ton or two for this weekend," she said.

"It's still early."

"It's September fifteenth!"

Greg blinked, started for the calendar before recalling his current position as Jenna's pillow. "Seriously?" he asked, looking at her. "It can't be that late already."

"Seriously," she said. "It's still pretty warm for this year, but it'll be cold again before you know it."

"I guess that's a good thing—if it gets too warm, the Chaos might come back."

She made a sort of snort before sipping her cider again. Understandable; the classic theory as to the disappearance of a race that had dominated the planet was that the temperatures had dropped to a point that the hot-blooded Chaos couldn't handle. Rumors said that they still persisted around the equator, but again, no one could explain anything related to Chaos—where they came from, where they went, and most of the why and wherefore in-between.

She was stirring her cider with its cinnamon stick now, reminding him that yes, he had a cup of it—and it was now cold, he noted as he took a sip.

"You're still unhappy," he observed, putting the cup back down.

"I wish I didn't have to worry about doing magic," she pointed out.

"I do too—it must stink having to do everything by hand."

"I hate it. And I hate having to pretend to be one of those Stepford housewives."

That actually made Greg burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"It's just—I don't think there's any danger of that. Besides, have you seen those housewives up close? I think they're homunculi, honestly."

"I thought they were supposed to be short."

"They look short to me."

She snorted again, and they were quiet again until the show ended and the smooth-voiced radio announcer started describing "The late shift for all those burning the midnight oil—midnight's coming up, and I'll be transferring you to my colleague for a few hours of 'Unsolved Mysteries of the Twilight Zone.' Those who like their spines tingled, stay tuned."

Jenna leaned forward and turned the teleradio off.

"My spine's been tingled enough for one day," she observed, patting Greg on the knee as she stood. "Come on, you—let's go to bed."

*\*/*

Teana was grateful for the chance to freshen up—sure, she was wearing the same clothes she had been yesterday, but at least she felt decent again. Or at least, awake. She fluffed her hair one last time before leaving the bathroom and heading back for the kitchen.

"Do I dare ask how it went?" she asked upon arrival.

"Um," Yami started—and then the phone rang.

She had the feeling something was up from the way he leaped for it and answered it swiftly. "Hello? Oh? Oh really? Well, that's a shame," he said, glancing at her before looking consternated. "What do you mean, what do I mean? Well—I—I have to go—I have a prior engagement—we'll talk later, all right?"

He hung up quickly.

"What was that about?" she asked, arms crossed.

"I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience," he said, hands laced together. "But it seems as though your morning job is no longer so."

She blinked, allowing herself a moment to process that. "What did you do?"

"Well, see, there's an inspection being run on the place, and…."

And so long as it was being run, the place wasn't open, and Teana was out another job.

"Is it that bad?" Yami asked, in response to her palming her face.

"I won't be able to keep up my rent without that job," she muttered.

"Ah….Well, there was that suggestion I offered—"

"We've been over this."

"I was kind of hoping you'd change your mind."

"Paging Mister Skellington," Kineil said, pausing from her meal. "You're being too forward again."

It was Yami's turn to bury his face in his hands.

"Now what do I do?" Teana asked. "And don't say move in with you," she added, pointing at Yami.

"Coffee," Kineil declared, holding the pot up. "Get properly sobered up for your noon job—but stay sauced enough that you ask for a raise."

"That's a terrible idea."

"Do you have a better one?"

No, not really.

"I'll take the coffee," Teana said finally, picking up her old mug and holding it out.

"Cream or sugar?"

"Neither, thank you."

"She takes her coffee like she takes her men," Kineil teased, looking at Yami as she made the crack.

It was enough for Teana to experience for the first and hopefully last time the event of coffee going up and out her nose.