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The Wizard Takes a Fitness Class: The Wizard Tales, #2
The Wizard Takes a Fitness Class: The Wizard Tales, #2
The Wizard Takes a Fitness Class: The Wizard Tales, #2
Ebook30 pages21 minutes

The Wizard Takes a Fitness Class: The Wizard Tales, #2

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You asked for more Wizard, and you got it. The mysterious Wizard is back, and this time he's brought his demons--literally. What's this about a nemesis, and a gambling addiction? Can't an old man just grab a cone of Ben & Jerry's without Chinatown's zombies getting in the way?

You don't have to be an LGBTQutie-patootie to shake your booty in The Wizard Takes a Fitness Class. Just ask anyone who's already read the latest wizarding tale--or better yet, read it, yourself.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMay 6, 2013
ISBN9781497742833
The Wizard Takes a Fitness Class: The Wizard Tales, #2
Author

Red Tash

I’m Red Tash. I write dark fantasy.What is dark fantasy? It’s a cocktail of imagery from the most secret places of your mind. It’s scary, at times funny, imaginative, and simultaneously familiar. If you like Stephen King, Neil Gaiman, or Holly Black, you like dark fiction.I have written fiction and poetry as long as I can remember. I hope you like it.

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    The Wizard Takes a Fitness Class - Red Tash

    All Rights Reserved

    No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Red Tash Books.

    ––––––––

    For Nick Caesar,

    Steve Akers,

    &

    Richard Simmons

    You magnificent bastards, I wrote your book.

    (Well, your short story.)

    ––––––––

    Sizzle, crack-sizzle, crack-crack-crack

    The sound of magic is a peculiar thing.  Traverse Telegraph Hill, and you'll find tropical birds emoting, cursing, singing, their calls bouncing and rebounding from the laddered corridors of painted ladies, rising until their voices are sheerly carried into Heaven.

    If that's not proof enough of magic's thriving in the City, I pity you. 

    Ah, but wizardry is catchy as a pop song, and once heard, whether through a whisper or a ringtone, never truly forgotten.

    From crumbling to recently paved, with a blinding finish of fancy glitter tones, the sidewalk of The Castro district rose before me, greeting me like an old friend.  It had grown ragged, uneven, as walks are prone to do.  I tapped my staff against it. 

    Sizzle, crack-sizzle, crack-crack-crack

    At my age, I know better than to lift my head and look when the angles grow too steep, when the broken sheets of concrete transition to steps.  I am no songbird's call.  I have no wings.

    Vertigo.  One never knows when it will strike.  The staff that was once a young man's weapon, now reduced to an old man's walking stick.  When the world spins and threatens to rock off its axis, I plant it like a flag in the territory of the Upright. 

    But this is not a pity story.  I do not walk to justify any moaning. 

    Sizzle, crack-sizzle, crack-crack-crack 

    Some cracks are too jagged, too

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