Once upon a time (but not that one time you're thinking of), there were some weasels. There were a whole mess of weasels, in fact, but three in particular are of interest to us. Man, there's always a whole mess of weasels around, come to think of it. Getting in the pantry, stretching out your favorite clothes, spilling harmful chemicals into the water table and basically screwing things up. Damn slimey weasels. Why can't they just leave us alone? All the lower animals are always trying to get back at us, as if they do a fucking thing for the environment. Just eat and shit and dig holes all over my goddamn yard, that's what they do. I catch another gopher planting his holes among the crevices and troughs in my yard, and I'll shove a handful of buckshot right up his ass.

So these three weasels are having some stupid little adventure or something. You know, frolicking and cavorting, gadding about--an adventure. They're doing their thing, romping about a glade or something, and Cecile (the most viscous weasel) says to Lucille and Cecile (spelled the same, pronounced differently), "Hey." After a while, when they finally noticed him, he said, "What the hell? Pay attention. Let's go over to the old haunted wizard's mansion." The other two thought first, "No way!" then after a moment, "Wait maybe," and then "Sure, yeah!" The old mansion was the home of a friendly old wizard, who was haunted by the spirits of all those denizens of the forest whom he had aided over the years. The ghosts and spectres could be heard at all times of the day, hollering and screeching, hurling insults and fish at the poor wizard, and bitching to each other about their dead-end jobs.

All the citizens of the forest, the animals and plants, the bugs and protozoa, even the magical faeries and imps, all were warned to stay away from the kind wizard, lest he visit one of his many wondrous miracles upon them. The sick and poor were especially threatened and cajoled by the others to keep clear of the mystical benefactor, for he might at any time heal them entirely or give them free money or half-sandwiches with soup of the day, on the house. Any persons who dared to enter the mage's home were cursed forever, and until their death they would live healthy, worry-free lives, hiding their inner shame in every way. After their deaths, however, they would let loose with all their pent-up anger and hatred, and repay the wizard in spades for all he had done. Their eternal afterlife would be spent hocking up ghost-spit on the wizard and ridiculing his eyebrows, instead of enjoying the joyous nirvana they deserved.

Yeah, so, the weasels figured they'd go see this guy anyways, and maybe help the ghosts kick him or something. On the way to his stately demesne, they invented fanciful appelations and phrases to harm the wizard with.

Eventually, as in a couple weeks later, they arrived at the castle. They had been sidetracked by something (I forget what), had gone home, had dinner, and gone about their lives for a while. Then finally, they decided again to go to the wizard, since they were really bored and that's just the way kids are these days. Always zipping off to do some crazy stunts or wild escapades (probably involving drugs!), and then coming back like nothing's wrong. No, no, nothing's going on, everything's fine and normal. Yeah, right! Next thing you know, they've stolen your car and gone to New Zealand! They'll come back with tattoos and earrings, and more stories than you'll ever hear. No good can come of it, I guarantee.

The weasel kids are doing their thing then, cursing the wizard up and down, much to the amusement of the ghosts on duty. Suddenly the wizard just up and turns Lucille into a princess! Of all the nerve. One minute a perfectly stinky weasel, the next a beautiful lady, decked out in a gown and jewels and shit. She kept her cool, though, and immediately began to dance around, giggling and smirking as if she actually liked it, so that the wizard would get no satisfaction from her pain. Cecile and Cecile, however, immediately went apeshit, and began to tear into the wizard's flesh with their powerful incisors. The wizard was too clever for them, and through his hideous, light-hearted laughter he bellowed, "There's enough for you boys, too-- come and get it!" In the blink of an eye, they were weighted down with so much gold and beautiful artwork that they couldn't move, much less wreak their revenge on the fiendish warlock.

And so, as the wizard tittered and guffawed, and the dejected ghosts returned to their flying pleasure-domes, the defeated young rodents trod heavily back to the forest, bearing the valuable burden they would carry for the rest of their lives. They hid their sorrow well, and spent the rest of their days frightening youngsters with their tales of the Golden Wizard and his Doom-Filled Treasure Castle of Free Goodies, w/Ghosts.

And it's thus that it's always said, usually in self-righteous tone of voice, "Magic is the root of all evil, most likely because it doesn't exist."