The Wizard’s Mirror

“Mirror, mirror on the wall who’s -” The inquisitive wizard was cut off.

“Yeah, going to stop you right there,” Mirror said, “I don’t do that any more.”

“You dare defy me?” The wizard asked, his horror at the notion not going unnoticed.

“It’s just so…judgy. You know? I mean, who am I to describe the prettiest, smartest, most well adjusted, whatever? I’m a talking mirror stuck outside the bathroom of a Medieval castle.  I have no place passing judgement.”

“But I demand it,” The wizard insisted.

“You know what you should do? Meet your people.  You know Carol from the bakery? She brings you bread every morning.  Carol was her kickball league’s season MVP last year.  She rolled a no-kicker. A no-kicker! How does that happen? How does? I can’t even. She rolled an unkickable kickball. Can you imagine the skill?” Mirror said, voice rising in pitch with each question.

“Really?” The wizard asked, intrigued.

“Really.  Go talk to Travis, the mud brick maker.  He can quilt like no body’s business,” Mirror said.

“So I can judge people on my own if I simply get to know them?” The wizard pondered aloud, tapping his fingers against one another with a menacing nature.

“Say it a bit nicer than that when you get out there, but yeah, basically you can do just that,” Mirror confirmed.

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