One day, while living in Cratersville, I was doing some rambling in that great Celestial Warehouse where all of the information of the universe is kept. This shouldn’t be confused with the Celestial Attic where the Creators—like me—keep all of those extra bits of worlds that they really don’t know what to do with, or the Magic Warehouse where the Patron Magicians—like my father had been—keep all of their magic props and secret stashes of power. The Celestial Warehouse isn’t a real place like either one of those. It’s more akin to a giant cloudy web, and through its ethereal portals I can discover all kinds of unique and curious information about any place in the known galaxy from anywhere I happen to be via the pages of my Creation Book or the small, nondescript satellite device that I utilize when I don’t want anyone to know about all of the creating that I’m not suppose to be doing.
Anyway, at some point during my meandering journey that fateful day, between discovering highly entertaining, but otherwise useless facts, and watching funny animal videos, I ran across a landmark located smack dab in the middle of the desert somewhere in that Cloud cuckoo land known as California. It seems that there’s this crazily painted mountain that has all kinds of bible verses and stuff like that on it.
Now, this got me to thinking about the Magic, which is kind of godlike in the way that it is all powerful but is generally ignored by the general population—my best friend Blue included. So, I decided that since there was so much empty space in Cratersville and its surrounding environs, no one would notice if I slapped a brightly painted but otherwise demure hill dedicated to sayings about the Magic somewhere in the usually deserted desert.
I admit that I made several errors in calculation when I created my Magic Mountain: for one, I didn’t realize how eye-catching my edifice would be; for another, I didn’t realize how many people habitually flew their starcars outside the normal sky routes, thus allowing them to catch site of my gloriously garish monstrosity; and finally, I didn’t realize that creating such a vibrant mark on the land would draw the little creatures I had been creating for the past some odd years like moths to a neon beacon.
If there’s one thing you need to know about the little creatures it’s that they love putting on a show, and the denizens of Cratersville were always more than happy to indulge them their vice of “self-expression.” I know you can probably see where this is going. Pretty soon the little creatures were wearing weird clothes, banging tambourines and handing out pamphlets saying, “The Magic Saves!” Next, a tent went up next to the mountain where the little creatures could be seen handling legless reptiles and participating in vigorous singing. Everyone who attended, raved about the entertainment the creatures proffered. They couldn’t stop talking about how reviving it was and how it made them feel like they were born again. The little creatures knew a good thing when they saw it. They started passing around felt-lined plates where the depositing of coinage by the eager audiences was actively encouraged. I even started seeing advertisements along the skyways for “services” every Sunday.
I would have gone for myself to see what all of the fuss was about, but, as far as the Magic was concerned, I had already been saved.
—Jellybean Reds, Creator of Little Creatures
Comments from Little Creatures and Others:
Brother Boingo: Visit Magic Mountain this Sunday! The Magic Never Fails!
Sister Flutterfling: The Magic Loves You!