This story is Part 2 in the series about Max the Forgetful witch: Read part 1 here.
More of Max
The struggles of a cereal-killer
Max was a witch. She was mighty, legendary, and well known! Her reputation far preceded her. Wherever Max appeared, people would follow in search of her. She waved goodbye to a young lad happily walking down the steps of her wooden hut. “Thank you again, Miss Witch! My beloved will forever be happy with this.”
Max waved hesitantly at him, “Yes, yes…” her voice fell quiet, “I just hope the cat’s tears have the same effect as the basilisk’s tears…”
As she slammed the door, the insides of the hut warped and twisted, stretched and contracted, and then, like a rubber band, assumed their regular shape again; she had teleported elsewhere. Her gaze wandered to the window, outside of which she could see a large mushroom perking up, glistening in the setting sun. She walked up to it and pulled the curtains aside, peeking out to view a lush forest of mushrooms in various shapes, colors, and sizes.
“Oh, Fungtopia, how delightful; I wonder if Chefzard messed something up again for me to appear here once more,” she remarked to herself. She headed to the kitchen, brewed a few herbal leaves, and then sat down to drink the beverage she had just created. The fragrance of mint and roses tingled her nostrils.
She enjoyed the soothing drink and the relaxing evening, watching the orange light that penetrated her curtains gradually turn a darker shade and glide down her wall.
Night fell, and with it, a strong scent of mushrooms flooded her house. It did not bother her; quite the opposite, it made her rather hungry and delighted from the anticipation of what kind of visits were to come. With the break of dawn, a knock on the window of her hut awoke her. Max jumped out of bed and ran to the door, like an excited child on Christmas Eve, eager to open presents. She wanted to reflect her inner child, and so with a snap of a finger, her body transformed.
A young girl, no more than 8 by the looks of it, pulled the door open with a childish, excited grin on her face. There stood a cat on hind legs, wearing high heels, lipstick, a skirt, and holding a stick in its paw. The cat glanced at the child and then into the hut. “Meows this?”
Max blinked at her, confused, and then teased, “Meows meow?”
The cat snarled at the young girl. “Meaors the witch?”
Max tilted her head to the side and responded, “Meot here!?”
The cat hissed, “You? Hah!!! Don’t meowk my tail laugh!” Max shrugged,
“Well, bye then!” She began closing the door, only to have it stopped by the cat’s paw. “Meowt!!!” she exclaimed. “Meow is in despair!” She explained, pushing the door open.
Max took a step to the side and welcomed her into the hut. In the center stood a large cauldron, with a small chair and table beside it. To the right was a kitchen, and to the left, a bedroom.
The cat walked in and, while gawking around, began to explain her issue. “My Romeow disappeared! He went off to chase the invading Fungtopia troops and never returned! Romeow was the greatest warrior in our village and my husband!” Max was already gathering ingredients off the shelf, pondering while doing so.
“Meow meow meow… can you get me that vial at the top?” The cat glared at the top shelf, then, using her feline agility, she climbed up.
Max took a few steps back, guiding the feline to the right vial. “No, the one with the skull, not that skull, the black one, it’s sizzling? Yes, that’s the one… No, it’s totally safe! What is it? It’s obviously the venom of a hydra, what else!” she explained, catching the vial the feline had dropped after hearing what it was. She then poured various ingredients into the cauldron and dripped a bit of the venom in there. Next, she kept stirring it while trying to remember the recipe.
“Meows it going?”
Max turned around. “AHA! I remember! I need your whisker!”
“Meow whisker?” The feline asked with a hint of worry in her voice.
“Mmmyeesss!” replied Max with a grin. She grabbed scissors, snipped one whisker from the feline, and dropped it into the cauldron. The liquid inside began to boil, turning a dark, ominous purple as it foamed and bubbled. Max scooped some into a vial and held it out to the feline. “This’ll find you your Romeow!”
The cat left, and Max shut the door behind her. A small bottle fell from the shelf above the door and hit her on the head. As it did, she remembered it was not the “seeker’s whisker” but the “absentee’s whisker” that she needed. She scratched her head and picked up the bottle from the floor.
“Ohh… I guess she’ll… Woops.”
Later that night, the feline woman consumed the potion given to her. Even later, she howled at the moon as the wolf she now was.
Max ventured out to collect mushrooms from the forest around the hut. Fungtopia was a fungi-heaven where she could gather various kinds and types of mushrooms. This continent was filled with fungi of all sorts, making it a gold mine for stocking up on specific ingredients. Healing, poisonous, infecting, or disinfecting, mushrooms had numerous uses. She merely had to ensure not to mix them up – easy!
She returned to her hut one evening to find a snail by the door. Atop the snail’s back was a pot, and inside the pot, a small mushroom with a face. It spoke to her.
“Maxxxxx!” it moaned. Max peered at it for a long while before recognizing the speech style.
“Oh my, oh my! It’s my favorite client! Chefzard, so you did mess up again, hmm? Tell me all about it!” She exclaimed excitedly, grabbing the pot from the snail’s back and venturing into her hut.
She set the pot on the table by the cauldron, grabbed a handful of chewable mushrooms from her basket, and sat at the table. “Well!? Go on, go on!”
Chefzard, a small mushroom in a pot, coughed to clear his throat. “I AAMMMMM!! THE GREATESSSSSTTT!!!”
She sighed. “No, no, skip that part. What’d you do?”
After a long and almost painfully slow explanation, halfway through which Max dozed off and awoke with a strange sensation of something tapping her face. Opening her eyes and focusing, she saw a small caterpillar on the tip of her nose. It was dancing, desperately stomping its tiny feet to wake her up and swaying side to side in rhythm with its own steps.
She picked it up by the tail and then sat it on the edge of the mushroom’s pot. “And so… that’s what happened!” He finished. “Help us, mighty Max!”
She smirked. “Something, something, I fell asleep halfway through. You turned a whole village into mushrooms?” She peered at the talking mushroom.
“YESSSSSS!” replied the chefzard, bursting into laughter.
“Oh, no, no, that’s too good! Well done! Even I would need a week to cook something THAT potent! I’m shocked, SHOCKED! Well, not that shocked.” She walked off to the kitchen, her body growing in size to that of a young woman, as she began rummaging through the shelves.
“Olive oil… Fresh cucumbers, onions…” she mumbled to herself, gathering various cooking ingredients. As she began chopping them up, she lit the oven fire and started cooking a hearty meal. Mushroom stew – nothing compares to a freshly-cooked mushroom stew made from the freshest, finest mushrooms in the land of Fungtopia.
She set a plate of hot stew on the table and sat down. “What? Is that all? Oh, well…” She paused for a moment. “To brew a potion to undo your wrongdoings, I’ll need the Mericinia-Fungera-Ultima, the finest and rarest of mushrooms in this land.”
The Chefzard began to speak, when Max cut him off. “Right, have your pal-snail and friend-pillar fetch it. I’m not about to roam this swampy land in search of it.”
The trio discussed it among themselves and agreed to fetch the Mericinia Fungera Ultima. Chefzard, however, requested to stay with Max and learn from her. She agreed, as it was not unusual for a wizard to seek her wisdom and desire to learn from her. The snail and the caterpillar set out on a long journey in search of the rarest and most powerful mushroom the world had ever seen. In the meantime, Chefzard stayed by Max’s side, learning while observing her encounters.
The day after, a mighty knock on the door made Max jump while she was reading about the Mericinia-Fungera-Ultima. The knock was followed by another, and shortly after by endless pounding, until at last she got to the door and opened it. “WHO IS IT?” she asked in an annoyed tone. An even more irritated voice, tinged with dissatisfaction and boredom, responded to her—but it came from below her line of sight.
“At last you decided to open.”
She scanned the forest before her and then let her gaze wander downward, where it was pleasantly greeted by a pair of white, fluffy ears. A cute, fluffy face with whiskers and a set of sky-blue, beady eyes glared, annoyed, up at her.
She gasped, “OH MY GOD!! You’re CUTE AS ALL BALLS!” Swiftly dropping to her knees, she picked up the small, humanoid, fluffy rabbit and admired it with the look of a girl who had just received a plushie of her favorite character.
The creature wore fancy robes and had a gem of sorts in its forehead. “Let go of me, you imbecile! Have thou not the slightest clue as to who I am?”
She squinted at the creature in her arms, which was angrily pounding at her hands with its tiny, fluffy hands. “Roger? Bobby? Martha? Hmm… Mitra? Silly girl, why are you a boy?”
The small creature angrily groaned. “Ugh! No! I’m Bunyat Selch of the convocation! I am very busy and important! Now set me down and hear me out!”
“But if important, why look cute?” asked Max, setting Bunyat Selch back down on the ground.
“Not cute! And not looking like this of my own accord! Ugh! I was on the way to save the world from something horrible when this man… I think it was a man, turned me into this.”
Max squinted at him. “How?”
Bunyat sighed and shrugged. “If I knew how, I wouldn’t be looking like this! My mission is of great importance, now turn me back to how I should be!”
Max walked into the hut, and Bunyat followed, closing the door behind himself. For the foreseeable hour, he told her the importance of convocation and the world from which he hailed. He shared how he was to save the world even though he didn’t want to; but, as he said, “there is no better man for the job, so I have to do what’s asked of me.” Max listened to his story attentively, as did the Chefzard mushroom in the pot.
When his long story finally came to an end, Max leaned against the counter, waiting for the tea to finish brewing. “So, what is your original form that I shall revert you back to?” she inquired with a smirk.
Bunyat Selch groaned. “Ugh, must I show and tell you everything? Fine! Behold my true form! Do try not to faint.” He spun around, and his body transformed into a tall man. His hair fell almost to his shoulders, and he wore black robes. He tilted his head to the side. “Well? Happy now?”
Max nodded. “Yes… So what did you need me for?”
He sighed and facepalmed. “Obviously, as I told you, seven times already, I need you to revert my form back to this, instead of the cute and fluffy humanoid bunny!” Max raised an eyebrow.
“Rrriiight… Well, the potion is ready; here, drink it.” She held the teacup out, offering it to the tall man before her. He took it, sniffed it, made a distrusting face, but still drank it. Then he glanced at his hands and gave her a pleased smile. “See? Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
She grinned at him with obvious sarcasm. “No, no, that potion you just consumed was extremely difficult. It took incredible skill and knowledge to create it.”
Bunyan shrugged at her. “Best of luck, witch of the unknown!” He disappeared, and then she facepalmed at his obliviousness.
“What a moron…” She remarked and then awaited the return of Chefzard’s companions. They took another month or two before their return, and when they returned, it was too late; she was gone.
The village was saved, and all humans were reverted back to their original form. However, there was no sign of Chefzard. The snail and caterpillar searched far and wide until they encountered a child on the street corner, reading a book titled, “Mericinia-Fungera-Ultima: Cooking Guide, Book 1.”
They peered over the kid’s shoulder and saw a picture on page 62: an image of Mericinia Fungera Ultima, a small mushroom no larger than the pinky toe. Bright reddish in color with small white specks and a yellow underside. Glancing at each other, the realization settled in.
Chefzard looked identical to it. ‘Chefzard had turned into Mericinia Fungera Ultima,’ they realized, and now, Chefzard was gone.
No sign of him since Max vanished after providing the villagers the ‘screaming soup,’ as they described it.
Max relaxed on the edge of a cliff, her hut hanging nearby. She savored the morning breeze. “Chefzard, that scoundrel, just mysteriously disappeared one morning without ever thanking me for my hard work… I’ll have my revenge,” she grumbled.
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