The Mad Magician twirled his wand with giddy flair, practically dancing in his boots as he examined the pint-sized Blue Boxer with mock curiosity. “Now that the mighty pugilist has been properly downsized,” he chuckled, “I find myself faced with a conundrum… What shall I do with you? Hmm…”
The twelve-year-old Blue Boxer, arms crossed, sleeveless shirt bunched up, scowled defiantly. “You better fix this, you creepy conjurer! Or I swear, when I get back to normal—”
“Oh hush, you little thundercloud,” the Mad Magician tutted. “That grumbly hero routine might work when you’re six-foot-two and stuffed with steroids, but in that squeaky soprano?” He pinched Blue Boxer’s cheek. “It's downright precious.”
Blue Boxer batted his hand away with a grunt.
“I think,” the magician mused, pacing theatrically, “what you need is a job. Some discipline. Structure. A mentor figure.”
He turned with a gleam in his eye. “You’ll be my little assistant!”
Blue Boxer recoiled. “What?! No way, I’m not—”
“Silencio, bratissimo!” the Mad Magician shouted, and with a dazzling swirl of violet and gold light, he flicked his wand.
Blue Boxer yelped as a gust of enchanted wind ripped through the alley. With a whoosh, his bulky tactical outfit burst into blue and black sparkles, which evaporated in the air like glitter caught in a fan. He was left butt naked, shivering in the glow of the magic circle, arms crossed over his bare chest.
“H-Hey! Gimme back my clothes!”
POOF!
A second spark of magic erupted from the wand, and in an instant, the boy was clothed once more — but this time, in something entirely different.
A crisp kid-sized tuxedo snapped into place: glossy black dress shoes clicked on the cobblestone, pleated pants pressed sharp as razors, a bright white shirt with shiny buttons, and a little blue satin bowtie to match his eyes. A sequined tailcoat fluttered behind him, and a puff of blue silk popped into his breast pocket.
“Nooooo,” Blue Boxer whispered, staring down at himself in horror. “No. No. NO. I look like a reject from a kiddie talent show!”
The Mad Magician clapped gleefully, nearly doubling over with laughter.
“Oh, but you look adorable! A perfect little pageboy of prestidigitation! You’ll hand me my props, fetch my wand, maybe crawl into a cabinet or two and get sawn in half! Imagine the applause!”
“Forget it!” Blue Boxer shouted, face red with embarrassment. “I don’t assist anyone—especially not some frumpy Vegas has-been with a wand!”
The Mad Magician gasped. “Frumpy?! Has-been?!” He drew himself up to full height, cheeks puffed with indignation. “That does it. You're going to learn respect one way or another, little boy.” He raised his wand again, energy crackling at the tip.
Blue Boxer took a step back, tugging at the bowtie choking his neck. “Wait—what are you—?”
The Mad Magician’s eyes narrowed. “Now, for the finishing touch...” His eyes glowed with devilish delight as he traced a lazy spiral in the air with the tip of his wand. The magical energy left behind a glittering trail of violet stardust that shimmered and swirled, hovering over the tuxedoed twelve-year-old like a hypnotic halo.
“You know, my boy,” the magician purred, “I think the real problem here is perspective. You've been raised on muscles, grit, and punching things in alleyways. But magic—true magic—is art. It’s elegance, spectacle, mystery…” He leaned in with a wink. “It’s something worth admiring.”
Blue Boxer folded his arms stubbornly, but his big blue eyes couldn’t help but flicker up to the glowing spiral above. “Not gonna work,” he mumbled. “I . . . I'll never . . . work for you.” His jaw hung slack.
“Oh, I disagree,” said the magician with a flick. “We just have to adjust those little priorities…”
He spoke with a rolling flourish, his voice booming like a stage performer:
“By starlight spun and mirrors true,
Let this child gain view anew.
No longer fight what’s strange or grand—
Make him crave the sleight of hand!”
The spiral of stardust plunged downward, sinking into Blue Boxer’s head with a sound like wind chimes crashing into a foghorn. His eyes widened. His posture softened. A dreamy smile spread across his youthful face.
“Oh boy!” he gasped, looking up at the magician with glimmering awe. “That was amazing. That rhyme? That sparkle spiral thing?! That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!”
The Mad Magician wiggled his eyebrows. “Feeling inspired, little boy?”
“Are you kidding?” Blue Boxer clutched his hands together in admiration, bouncing in his polished shoes. “You’re incredible! You made words do things! And the way your cape swirls when you spin? You’re like the coolest guy ever!” He suddenly blinked, a little confused. “Wait—wasn’t I mad at you for something?”
The Mad Magician snorted. “Oh, nothing important, my boy. Just a little professional rivalry.” He strolled in a slow circle around the boy, tapping his wand to his chin. “But let’s see just how deep your admiration runs, hmm? Perhaps a test of loyalty is in order” He leaned down until his bulbous nose was inches from Blue Boxer’s button nose.
“If you really think I’m the greatest magician in the world,” he whispered silkily, “tell me your greatest secret. Your true identity. Your real name.”
Blue Boxer hesitated, brows knitting for a moment. “I... I’m not supposed to say. It’s like, rule number one of crime-fighting.” He fidgeted, his heart thumped.
“Oh, but surely I can be trusted,” said the Mad Magician with exaggerated offense. “After all, I just made your world sparkle, didn’t I? If you truly would like to be my loyal little assistant, then you have to be completely and totally honest with me, my friend.”
Blue Boxer’s shoulders sagged, his conscience in a headlock. He tugged nervously at his blue bowtie, then peeked up at the magician with wide eyes.
Mad Magician placed a hand on Blue Boxer's shoulder in support. "It's OK, Boxer. I'm the coolest guy ever. You can trust me can't you?"
The last ounces of Blue Boxer's willpower faded and blurted out “My name is Ethan. Ethan Keller.”
The Mad Magician’s grin widened like a curtain opening on closing night. "Good boy! Now doesn't it feel better doing as your told?"