The Well

I was tossing coins into the wishing well when that blighted harpie Master Eunice’s nasally voice shattered my still-water serenity.

“Ran-dee! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Who’s gonna clean my hats if you’re just loafin’ about the wishing well in your pyjamas?” Eunice said. “Certainly not Philmore. He can barely tell a tricorn from a quadcorn.”

I concealed my anger underneath a layer of snooty butler stoicism, tossing in another coin before slowly turning around. Her current hat was not flattering. It looked like like someone had strapped a dog-fur wig onto the saggy over ripe cantaloupe of her head.

I tossed a coin over my shoulder and said “Philmore has to learn. He shouldn’t be allowed to coast on his overwhelming stupidity.”

“Ha ha ha! His overwhelming stupidity You seem to be under the impression that you’re intelligent! Thats rich! You can barely tell a bicorn from a unicorn!” Eunice mouthed off.
“Now come with me to the wardrobe”

I tossed a fistful of quarters angrily into the well. The waters rippled at twenty separate points.
“I’ll have you know that my intelligence makes me tremendously overqualified as a butler. I shan’t stay in this position long once the job market picks up again!”

“You’ll stop serving me over my dead body! The contract you signed was for life!” Eunice cackled.

For the first time in ten years of service, my face betrayed the rage I felt, and I whipped my wallet into the depths of the well. A bolt of lightning shot out of the cloudless sky, frying Eunice like a drop of butter. My ears rang.

I didn’t dare fish my wallet out, lest Eunice’s heart begin beating again. Barefoot, pyjama clad, I left the estate grounds for the first time in years.