The Half-Assed Wizard: The Complete Series: Books 1-4: The Half-Assed Wizard, The Big-Ass Witch, The Dumbass Demon, The Lame-Assed Doppelganger

by Gary Jonas

  “Are you running a fever?” Lakesha asked. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

  “Acting? Hell, I am me. Why would I need to act? I’ve been gone for months. Has everyone gone crazy?”

  “You were here last night.”

  “I was on an airplane last night. I just got back to town this morning.” I pointed to my T-shirt. “Exhibit A, my Fiji shirt. Gifted to me by a lovely young woman who gives a lot more than clothing, if you know what I mean.”

  “Show me your arm.”

  I grinned because this would settle it. She wanted to see my Tarot tattoo. I turned my arm so she could see the card depicted among the flowers and leaves on my right forearm.

  “Not that one,” she said, and pointed to my left arm. “Roll up your sleeve.”

  “You’re acting weird, Lakesha.” But I turned and rolled my sleeve up over my shoulder.

  She approached me and stared at the unblemished skin. She stepped around to face me and her eyes narrowed. Her hands swept in circles, drawing from the sigils she had worked into the ceiling.

  “Begone, demon!” And she blasted me in the chest with a magical force. I staggered backward.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “Begone, I say,” and she blasted me again.

  I left the bookstore, rubbing my chest and hoping it wouldn’t bruise.

  I glanced back, and Isis reared up in the glass door as though trying to scratch me from a distance.

  I flipped the cat the bird. But not a bird she could eat. Wow, I hated that cat.

  7. You go to an ATM, slide your card in to get some cash, and the machine eats the damn card and flashes a message: You are a thief! Your image has been taken and sent to law enforcement agencies! You will be arrested!

  Had things changed that much in six months?

  Fortunately, I was at a convenience store, and the clerks there were anything but heroes, and likely had no clue what the machine had just told me. I also realized later that ATMs don’t call people thieves. That was a spell cast by my father to fuck with me.

  Fine. I went to another store, pulled out a different card, and used it to get some cash. My old man didn’t know about this card or this money. It was an account I set up for royalties from my hit single last year, “Napping My Life Away.”

  I wished I could nap my life away right now.

  8. You swing by to visit a friend at work only to have this weird conversation.

  “Is Teddy here?” I asked the manager.

  “Why would Teddy be here?”

  “Uh, because he works here?”

  “Not since you hired him away from us, Mr. Masters. I must say, your manner of dress has diminished.”

  “Blow me.”

  Something was seriously wrong in Galveston.

  9. You drop by the storage unit where your vampire friend spends his days in a coffin waiting for the night. You open the door to reveal the coffin, as you expect, along with wardrobes filled with a variety of expensive clothing. You close the door to keep the sunlight out, pull the drawstring to light the bulb hanging from the top of the unit, then rap on the coffin, and have this little exchange.

  “I’m trying to sleep here,” Michael said as he lifted the lid a bit to peer out.

  “Hey, Michael.”

  “Why are you dressed like that?”

  “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

  Michael sat up. “Brett?”

  “Who the hell else would I be?”

  He studied me in the overhead light. “Oh, shit. I should have known.”

  “Known what? Dude, what the fuck is going on? There’s some Hispanic woman in my house who fires Spanish cuss words the way an AK-47 fires bullets. Lakesha seemed surprised that Isis hates me. Sabrina thinks I got her a massage at some swanky spa. I could go on.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Two thirty in the afternoon.”

  “The swanky spa is on Seawall down by the movie theater. New place. It’s called The Brand New You. If you swing by there before three, I think all your questions will be answered.”

  “Why don’t you save me a trip?”

  “Not a chance. I only wish I could be there.”

  Which leads us to this little ditty.

  You go to the swanky new spa with the stupid name and when you walk in, the cute blonde receptionist says, “Mr. Masters. How did you get outside? How did you get so tan? Why are you wearing those clothes?”

  Of course, I ignored her and went right into the spa.

  A muscle man in Speedos stepped out of a room and nodded to me. “Hello, Mr. Masters.”

  “Where’s my cousin?”

  “Third door on the left, but you’re supposed to be right across the hall.”

  “Right,” I said. “Thanks.”

  I walked down the hall. I could have checked on Sabrina first, but something told me my questions would be answered by opening the door across the hall.

  So I did, and that takes us to:

  10. You walk into a massage therapy session where a naked version of you is getting a rub and tug by a cute topless Asian woman, and that version of you sits up with a big smile and says, “You’re early.”

  “You look like me,” I said. I glanced at his dick in the hands of the cute topless girl. “Only smaller.”

  He pointed to his shoulder. He had a tattoo of a pentagram in a circle surrounded by fire and beneath it was the word, “Genuine.”

  “I’m the real you, Brett.”

  “No,” I said, “you’re a lame-assed doppelgänger created by my dick of a father.”

  “He let you run around long enough so people wouldn’t suspect the truth, but six months ago, I was ready, so you’re now superfluous. Sorry you had to learn it this way, but there you go.”

  “What the hell are you saying?”

  “I’m the real Brett Masters. You are a surrogate created by my father to throw off the Magic Council while I finished my training. It worked a little too well because somewhere along the way, you started to think you were the real me. Sorry about that. If you’d stayed in Fiji a few more months, you’d have gone back to the sand from which you were first assembled.”

  “That was a lot of talking. Can you give it to me in six words or less?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Brett 2: the Sequel met me at a fancy restaurant at 7:00 that evening. He didn’t have reservations, but as a high-level wizard, his magic guaranteed us a table. The service was excellent, as always, and the salmon I ordered was magnificent, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

  Brett and Sabrina were already at the table when the hostess escorted me over. “We don’t get many identical twins,” the hostess said, “but for the record, I can tell you apart at a glance.”

  I grinned at her. “I’m the better looking one, right?”

  She pointed to the Sequel. “Your brother has a certain style that shines through, though you have more … personality.”

  “How very diplomatic,” I said and sat down.

  The doppelgänger was better dressed, in spite of me buying some new clothes for the dinner.

  Sabrina sat smiling in an elegant blue dress that suggested high class. Her glasses made her look more intelligent, but women in glasses always looked smarter to me. Silly? Sure. But I had librarian fantasies. Not about my cousin, of course. But about anyone else’s cousin. I’m an equal opportunity fantasist.

  The restaurant was busy, but the tables were spaced to allow privacy while still filling the room with the sounds of conversations and the occasional tap of silverware on plates.

  “The real Brett explained the situation to me,” Sabrina said. “I think I have a few suggestions for you.”

  “The real Brett? I am the real Brett.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Sabrina said. “Brett here is sophisticated, talented, intelligent, kind, capable, confident—”

  “If you can get out of Superlative City, we can have a conversation. I get it. You like
him more than you like me.”

  “Don’t feel bad,” the doppelgänger said. “You were set up to be a placeholder. That’s all.”

  “Bullshit,” I said.

  “Please don’t use profanity,” he said. “This is a nice establishment, and there are children at the next table.”

  “I don’t give a shit.”

  “Now, Brett,” he said as if placating a child. “There’s no need for that.”

  Sabrina took a sip of wine. “Shall we get to my suggestions?”

  “Perhaps we should order first,” my double said. “I recommend the escargot. It’s simply divine.”

  “I’m not eating snails,” I said.

  “High in protein, low in fat,” Sabrina said.

  I opened the menu. “No snails for me. That’s just gross.”

  “Regardless,” twin boy said, “the meal is my treat.”

  The waiter came by, fawned over my doppelgänger for a few, welcoming him back and thanking him for some small kindness then complimented Sabrina, who glowed in his praise. The waiter glanced at me. “Welcome, sir, you bear a startling resemblance to Mr. Masters here. Would you like to hear about our specials?”

  “Not especially,” I said. “I’ll do the salmon with habanero sauce.”

  “An excellent choice, sir.” He asked a few questions, as waiters do, then focused on Sabrina and gave another special smile to Mr. Masters. Either my doppelgänger was having the guy for dessert or he tipped well. Or both.

  After the waiter bowed and departed, though at least he didn’t click his heels, Brett 2 gave me a nod. “This is your first visit to this fine establishment.”

  It was a statement, not a question.

  “Oh, I always meant to come here,” I lied. “I just never found the time.”

  “It’s one of the finest restaurants in the entire country.”

  “Well, I’ll be a mermaid’s tail,” I said.

  “I don’t know what that means,” he said.

  “Neither does he,” Sabrina said as she rolled her eyes.

  The waiter came by with appetizers. He refilled our drinks and stole away to assist other tables.

  “Dude,” I said, “can we just cut through the crap? I’m the real me. You’re an imposter. You need to give me back my house and get the hell out of Galveston.”

  “I sold the house,” he said. “Well, Father did.”

  “Father? Like he’s some kind of priest?”

  “It’s a more respectful way of referring to him than ‘Dad.’ But it seems respect is something he forgot to inject into your core operating principles.”

  “My core operating what? Dude, speak English.”

  “My apologies, Brett. Your humor doesn’t appeal to me.”

  “Try that again,” I said. “This time with a British accent. Everyone sounds smarter with a British accent. It adds thirty IQ points no matter what you say.”

  He turned to Sabrina. “Is he always like this?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “I’m so sorry you had to endure him for so long.”

  “That which does not kill us,” she said.

  “I’m sitting right here,” I said. “I can hear you.”

  “Yes, well, I was merely telling her that it’s a shame she had to suffer through several months of your company while I was finishing my training.”

  “Uh, yeah. I heard you the first time.”

  “I thought I’d offer a more detailed explanation.”

  “I like shorter explanations. And I don’t need an explanation when you’re insulting me while I’m actually sitting here.”

  “That’s not the impression you give off,” he said.

  “Wait, is that an insult?”

  “Would you appreciate a lengthier explanation to elucidate the full range of my observation?”

  “Now you’re just being an asshole,” I said.

  He grinned. “A trait I understand you possess in great measure.”

  “Them’s fightin’ words,” I said.

  “Ah, your intellectual capacity has now been exceeded and the digression is in full force.”

  “What?”

  “Boys,” Sabrina said, touching each of us on the arm. “Let’s all remain calm.”

  “I exude calmness,” my pretentious duplicate said.

  “You’ll feel calm after I knock your ass out,” I said.

  “Don’t make me bite my lip,” Sabrina said.

  I know that sounds like an odd thing to say, but she meant she’d draw up magic to keep us at bay if necessary. My family comes from a long line of blood magicians, so blood is required to perform magic. There are other kinds of wizards, of course, but who gives a shit? They’re all assholes.

  “Shall we have an adult conversation?” the Fancy Nancy version of me said.

  “In front of all these people?” I asked, gesturing to the diners at other tables.

  “He doesn’t mean sex talk,” Sabrina said. “He means talking like grown-ups.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “I understand why people were so surprised when I arrived,” he said. “They were accustomed to his lowest common denominator discourse.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t tell me you’re playing in my band.”

  “I’m a talented musician.”

  “Means he doesn’t cheat and use the magic pick,” Sabrina said.

  “But it probably also means he pussified the set list by substituting Dan Fogelberg songs for Metallica.”

  “We do some softer, more thoughtful songs now,” she said.

  “My reputation is destroyed.”

  “You’re not the real me,” he said.

  “Other way around, pal.”

  “You were created because I was working on a special brand of magic. It’s ready for road tests now, and that means it’s time for you to go.”

  “Or he can stay and stand in for you when you need him to,” Sabrina said.

  “I’m not going to return him to base atoms here,” he said.

  “He was actually showing some signs of growth,” Sabrina said. “Not much, but he did manage to defeat a Greek god.”

  “Which god was that again?” my doppelgänger asked.

  “Apollo.”

  “A nice god. Not saying much.”

  “He wasn’t being nice at the time,” I said.

  He gave me a wave of contempt. “You’re a pale shadow of what I am.”

  “But he might prove useful,” Sabrina said.

  “You’re defending him?”

  “Not exactly,” Sabrina said. “But the Ringo Twins were in town last week. What if they come back?”

  “The Ringo Twins?” I asked. “Please tell me one of them is named Snookeroo and the other is named Boogaloo.”

  She looked a question at me.

  “Ringo Starr,” I said.

  “Who?”

  I closed my eyes.

  “From the Beatles,” my twin said. “He thinks he’s being amusing.”

  I shrugged. “With this crowd, ‘It Don’t Come Easy.’ I have to constantly ‘Wrack My Brain,’ and then I remind myself she doesn’t even have a ‘Photograph’ so ‘Oh My My’ I know that ‘Only You (And You Alone)’ can understand why I have to sing ‘The No No Song.’”

  “You left out ‘Only Sixteen,’” the doppelgänger said.

  “True, but most folks only know the Johnny Burnette version. Besides, I wasn’t trying to go through all his hits. I just wanted to give her ‘A Dose of Rock ’n’ Roll.’”

  “Mission accomplished,” he said.

  “Why’d you leave out ‘My Sweet Lord?’?” Sabrina asked.

  “Because Ringo didn’t sing that. George did.”

  “I’m not that big a fan of the Beatles.”

  “Big surprise,” I said.

  “They’re before my time.”

  “But you like Beethoven.”

  “That’s classical.”

  “Drop the ‘al’ and you’ve got classic. As
in classic rock. As in the Beatles, the Stones, the Who.”

  “Whatever.”

  “So a little before your time is bad, but a lot before your time is good?”

  “I like the real Brett better,” Sabrina said, pointing to my twin.

  “I’m the real Brett.”

  “In your dreams,” she said.

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll bite on the other subject. Who are the Ringo Twins?”

  “Magical assassins,” Sabrina said.

  “Like those Sekutar warriors the clowns at that one company created?”

  “No. They’re wizards who specialize in assassinating other wizards.”

  “Goes against the Council.”

  “Not if they focus on wizards who haven’t signed the covenant.”

  “Wizards like me?”

  She nodded.

  “So Tweedledum here hasn’t signed it either?” I nodded to my twin.

  “Can’t sign until I take the test.”

  “Why not take it then?”

  “Because I’m expected to attain a higher level at the initiation to impress the Matriarch. Father tells me that passing is not enough. I need to master a new system of magic to vault ahead of Joey.”

  Joey. Not the guy Concrete Blonde sang about. Joey was my oldest brother. I gave my dad grief about him, but I had no clue what he’d really done. He’d somehow managed to put a black mark on the family name when I was a kid, and ever since then, my father was an even bigger asshole.

  “Why?”

  “Because, you moron, our father is dying, and if I don’t take the top position, Joey will inherit his power.”

  “Dad is dying?”

  “Why do you think he’s pushing for action now?”

  “Because he’s a dick.”

  “Guess again, sand surrogate.”

  “How long does he have?”

  “Best guess? Six months.”

  “Some kind of magic ailment?”

  “Brain cancer. Inoperable, and healers can’t absorb or remove it.”

  That explained a lot. And yes, wizards get cancer, too. Most can be cured by healers, but only if detected early enough.

  “Oh,” I said.

  “I’m not quite ready for the big test,” he said. “Joey must be aware of my preparations or he wouldn’t be sending assassins after me.”

  “I think we can use half-assed Brett as bait for them,” Sabrina said.