Benjamin Henry

Benjamin Henry

Benjamin Henry holds a BA in English from The Ohio State University and an MA from the University of Toledo. His work has been published in Space and Time and Hearth and Coffin literary magazines. He lives in Dayton, OH with his wife, their sickly dog, and, arguably, too much anxiety.

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The Magic Users Support Group

[An excerpt from the meeting minutes of the most recent gathering of the Magic Support Group.] 

“Welcome, everyone. I want to remind you all that this is a closed meeting for people who practice magic only. If you are not a practitioner of magic, we ask that you leave the meeting at this time.” 

[Scuffling, as the sound of interlopers leave the meeting. Silence hangs in the room for a moment. The facilitator of the meeting opens a dreary, leathery book, writes his name inside, and a light begins to emit from its center. He places it on a table in the middle of the circle and returns to his seat.] 

“Greg, the coffee is still shit.” 

“Same as usual.” 

“Doesn’t anyone have a fix for this at this point? I mean Jesus Christ, it’s been how many meetings and we’re still living in squalor.” 

“Excuse me if the only recipe we have for coffee is from the sixteen hundreds.” “Back when it was first discovered?” 

“Exactly.” 

“And nobody thought to improve it since then?” 

“I just use a Keurig.” 

[Uproar and general disregard for humanity as profanities are flung about.] “For fuck’s sake.” 

“Seriously, Janice? A goddamn Keurig?” 

“Now is that the posessive of fuck or are there multiple fucks? Or both, plural possessive?” 

“People! Settle, settle.” 

[The room quiets. Mostly.] 

“See, this is precisely the sort of thing — sort of issues that we should meet for. The real issues.” 

“Are you going to look me in my timeless eyeballs and tell me that buying single-use plastic coffee pods is the real issue that we face?” 

“I think he means selling out and resorting to cheap, automated coffee. We’re better than that, right?” 

“Not exactly…” 

“Then you mean finding a solution to the carafe problem so that Prospero over here can quit yapping—” 

“Call me Prospero again and I will bury you alive, Le Fay. Literally.” 

“I can see grounds floating at the bottom. Is that normal?” 

“Why does every meeting start this way?” 

“No, it’s not normal. Coffee should be clear, not looking like some potion designed to give the drinker explosive diarrhea.” 

“What I was trying to say was that —”

“It’s like a soup. A poop soup.” 

“ — Was that the coffee is a symptom of a much broader illness—” 

“Speaking of illness, did you hear what happened to Agnes? Toad Throat.” “Who’s Agnes again?” 

“She used to lead group a few years back.” 

[Silence.] 

“She always wore her formal pointy hat that would fill the hall with that really, really pungent mothball stench. Remember?” 

[Silence.] 

“She had the hump.” 

“Ah, yeah, Agnes the Hunchback!” 

“I swear to me, I swear that hump could damn near reach the ceiling.” 

“Excuse me, but what’s Toad Throat?” 

“Blessed that you’ve never heard of it. A terrible condition.” 

“Isn’t it when you keep vomiting up toads?” 

“Yes, I believe it is.” 

“No, I’m almost positive that it’s when your throat swells up to look like a bullfrog.” “It’s just a cold! The plain as day, plain as shit common cold. Not everything is some antiquated, mystical ailments. She has a frog in her throat. It’s a figure of speech. Didn’t any of you pass sophomore English?” 

“Well, no, but to be fair, I was alive when English was invented, so I think it’s okay if I don’t remember the difference between a simile and metaphor.” 

“Merlin weeps.” 

“You know, I got Toad Throat once. Couple years ago. Real bad. Had to make my own ointment to make the ballooning go down. Couldn’t help with the warts through. I had to freeze those off.” 

“I’m leaving.” 

[The group successfully prevents the speaker from leaving, most likely using a binding hex. The moderator continues.] 

“As I was saying… I think the coffee is a symptom of something much worse, much bigger. I fear, dear friends, that our way of life has perhaps become obsolete. [A murmur spreads among those assembled.] 

“Oh please. This isn’t the first time we’ve been ‘threatened.’” 

“Stop making air quotes. This is serious.” 

“Yeah, and your quotation marks send off sparks that burn.” 

“Yeah, it’s ‘serious.’” 

“Ow! Stop!” 

“I’m not too worried. Remember that phase with the magic school and that filthy looking orphan? That was huge for us.”

“Yes, but things have slipped since then. Ever since the author came out hating transformers, which honestly surprised me.” 

“Did you just say ‘transformers’?” 

“Like the cars?” 

“Stop making air quotes!” 

“I think it’s time I start microdosing tinctures again…” 

“Yes, I did. And personally, I think that’s such a shame. What has the transformers community done to anybody? They’ve never wronged me.” 

“Let me ask you… are you okay?” 

“Enough of this—” 

“I feel fine, why do you ask?” 

“Enough! Listen, all the boy wizard garbage is just another iteration of the same, tired attempt to cash in on our existence. Same with that Narnia book. Same with the Young Goodman. Same with Daemonologie. It ultimately does more harm than good. It practically nailed our culture — our way of life — down to a t. And when everyone knows how you live, it makes it all the more easy to be discovered. And then…you know…” 

“The Daemonologie… Wow, I couldn’t even tell you the last time I thought about James. We had an affair once, didn’t you know? Back when I was haunting the moors. That’s what got his panties all in a bunch and made him write it. Never really got over me. I mean, how could you?” 

“Are you actually going to tell me you’re the inspiration behind the most famous book about witch-hunting?” 

“Mmmhmm.” 

“Y’know what? I’m going to let that one play out.” 

“Are you really worried about that still? That we’ll be discovered and all hell will break loose?” 

“There’s a spell for that. Tried it once in Prague. Unbelievable.” 

“Am I worried? Absolutely. For centuries — hell — millennia, our people have been hunted and slaughtered for our mere existence. The most vicious and vile slander thrown our way. Seducing innocent minds. Committing blasphemy and heresy. Fraternizing with the devil. Signing a name in his book.” 

“Sorry, that one’s on me. I spread that rumor to Mary Warren. John and Elizabeth were just so incessantly annoying. Plus, she actually saw me signing my name in his book, so I wiped her memory, gave her some false ones instead. Phew, it feels good to finally come clean after all these years.” 

“Personally, I feel very frightened. My great aunt Brynhild was murdered because of who she was. Set her house ablaze with her still inside. Who knows who they’ll butcher next? I put a dampening curse on my house so it’s always wet. The mildew is bad but it gives me peace of mind knowing I won’t go out like her.”

“I think you’re forgetting the very important minor detail that she set her own house on fire to avoid being captured for luring innocent people to her home in Indiana so that she could kill them and spread their hacked, disassembled body parts around her property like an Easter egg hunt.” 

“That’s what they want you to think.” 

“That’s what you told me and her funeral.” 

“Precisely. And I’ll never forgive myself for falling victim to their insidious lies.” “What’s going on?” 

“To be frank, I haven’t been paying much attention since someone mentioned Transformers—” 

“ —rights are human rights! Unlike that author, I’m not afraid to say it.” “Can’t believe that somehow righted itself after all. Huh.” 

“A broken sundial is right twice a day.” 

“That’s not the expression. And I don’t think that’s true.” 

“Excuse me…but…this might be a bit controversial…I don’t think we’re in that much danger anymore.” 

[A penetrating silence falls over those assembled.] 

“Ehm…I, uh, I think I agree.” 

“Poppycock!” 

“Just listen! Just a quick show of hands: how many of you still wear your robes?” [All of the hands raise perfunctorily.] 

“Outside of these meetings?” 

[A single hand still remains aloft. A second hand tentatively shakes as it raises.] “I do, but if I’m being honest, it’s only around Halloween. And even then, my getup looks way less convincing than some of the freaks I see that come to my door nowadays. Must have shelled out the big bucks for it. Kind of impressive.” 

“Okay… how many of you have tried to physically, mentally, or emotionally manipulate someone using a spell, potion, or other supernatural medium?” 

[The lone hand remains raised. This time, it is not joined by another.] 

“It’s hard to compete against social media. I mean, Jesus fucking Christ, that one app does more psychic damage in a single hour than all my charms combined.” “I just don’t see the point anymore. Before, I used to scatter a few eyes of newt into the town water supply so that they would bring me food and drink whenever I pleased. But now, I can just use my phone and have it delivered to my door. I don’t even have to leave the house anymore. And gods, it was a freakin’ nightmare hunting down newts. I live in the midwest! We don’t have any newts here! I had to disguise myself as my niece’s service dog and steal them on a class trips to a herpetarium.” 

“Herpe-whats?” 

“It’s where they keep herpes.” 

“Reptiles.”

“Reptile herpes? Sounds painful.” 

“It is related to Toad Throat?” 

“It is, especially in dog form. Look.” 

“Ew.” 

“Woof! Ha, I’m kidding. I can still speak. But yeah, I know. Isn’t it gnarly?” “Speaking of reptiles, have any of you had to rely on your familiars recently to do any bidding?” 

[The members shake their heads, save the one hand that remains lifted.] 

“I used to have Tashtego fetch me the hair of young virgins in the night, but recently, people are just willing to sell me it online. Somebody just gave it away to me for free. Now, Tash just sleeps under the window sill and meows to let me know when the UPS man is here. With the hair. He seems to like it, from what he’s told me.” 

“Same, Antigone stays home and watches the weatherman all day.” 

“Well, I still have mine work for me. Just last night, it brought me the remote to my television so that I could enjoy 60 Minutes.” 

“Woah, slow down, man. Don’t go too crazy.” 

“Please, try to see reason.” 

“I refuse. Sorry, but we’ve been burned before. Literally.” 

“Once again, my bad for starting that trend.” 

“Fine. Refuse to even consider my view. But let me ask one last thing: who still uses their wand?” 

[The once adamant hand now lowers in disgrace.] 

“If we’re being honest, I lost it about a year ago and I’ve been too ashamed to replace it.” “Ashamed?” 

“Fine! Too…too…I’ve been dragging my feet through the mud because I realized that I really don’t use it.” 

“And you don’t have to! Look around, things have clearly begun to change. And guess what? That’s fine! Change is a good thing. We’re normally the ones that cause it, so why fight it now? Okay, so history has a track record set against us, but… it feels different this time. Is the world perfect? No. And it never will be. But just last week, I saw someone dressed as a wolf go to the grocery store to buy adult diapers and kibble on all fours. There’s someone online that just uploads videos of their feet squishing food with their toes. Arby’s is still open. Things are fucking weird, man! If there is ever a time to embrace both who we are and not give a single care in the world, it’s now! 

[Excited murmuring from the audience.] 

“I mean, let’s face it, how much of our powers do we still use anyway? The amount of mental concentration it takes to telekinetically boil a pot of water, grind a serving of beans, and brew a carafe of coffee is so over the top when all you have to do is press a single button on a machine. I’m not saying that we have to give up our magic, but come on, can’t we start to enjoy the world around us for once without being in fear?”

[There is a prolonged silence in the room. At last, the group leader answers.] “You son of a bitch. Fine. Let’s do it.” 

“I’ve never felt more alive! And that’s saying something because I once snorted a human being’s life essence during a rager.” 

“I’m just excited that I can stop telling people I devised my own headache-curing potion when all along I’ve been going to the pharmacy and dying Tylenol green.” “You’ve what?” 

“I think our first order of business is to order a new coffee machine.” 

“A Keurig?” 

“No, even better. An espresso machine.” 

“Ooo, maybe I’ll actually attend a meeting now?” 

“Wait, what?” 

“Yeah, I’m astral projecting right now. I didn’t see the point in actually showing up.” “Really?” 

[The door opens.] 

“Yeah, put your arm through me and see.” 

“Hey, I’m here for the magician’s meet—” 

[A visitor has entered the room in media res while witnessing the seemingly impossible tableaus of someone putting one’s arm through the torso of another human, a mongrel dog speaking English, and a book bound in human skin radiating an ethereal glow from the center of the room. Those already assembled look and stare at the intruder, who is dressed in a top hat, red-lined cap, and three-piece suit. He stares back at a loss for words. There is a slight commotion as behind the intruder a dove flutters its wings and darts out of the still slightly ajar door. The silence that follows is unbearable.] 

[Redacted.] 

[Those previously assembled are using their brooms to sweep the heap of gelatinous ooze into a single pile to little avail.] 

“I can’t believe—” 

“Listen! I said we shouldn’t be afraid anymore. I didn’t say we should advertise our existence! And to a magician, no less!” 

“It didn’t mean you had to turn him into goop!” 

“Well, at least I’m not the one who forgot to lock the fucking door!” 

“God, this is going to take forever to sweep up.” 

“Does anyone remember the cleaning spell? Damnit.” 

“Sigh… I’m on it.” 

[The dog begins to lap up the gelatinous ooze, belching every now and then.] “Right, so an espresso machine?” 

“Agreed.”