133- I’m a fireman, that means I’m an expert in what’s hot.
DAMIEN
“Well…” Eli hesitates, and I immediately make a frustrated noise.
“Come on, Eli. This is not the time for building suspense.” I say, mildly irritated.
“I know, I know.” He sighs.
“It’s just... You’re not going to like it.” He admits.
“That’s not comforting. Just spit it out.” I say flatly, my stomach already sinking. The guy was bragging about his detective work five seconds ago, and now he’s holding back? What kind of evil emotional whiplash is this?
“Fine. So… Basically… It was a prank. One aimed at you. Or maybe more like a magical hazing?” He suggests. I blink.
“Excuse me? A prank?” I repeat, slowly, as my voice begins climbing toward dangerous territory.
“I mean, glowing purple goo that itches? Glitter explosions? It was all pretty ridiculous.” Eli says cautiously. My jaw tightens.
“By who?!” I demand. He hesitates again, and now I’m fully, violently alert.
“Uh… Some of the guys in upper management?” He says, I can tell that he’s wincing even though I can’t see him.
“They’ve got a kind of… Messed up sense of humor. Apparently, this was their way of hazing you into the magical community. Like an official initiation.” He pauses, then adds tentatively,
“So... Congratulations?” He adds. I stare at my kitchen wall like it personally offended me.
“You’re saying that someone in management, one of our bosses, sent me a cursed coffee machine as some kind of twisted welcome gift?!” I say incredulously.
“Actually, I think it was more than one of them.” Eli says.
“Like, a whole group. I suspect they have some kind of unofficial club, upper management magical beings in emergency services. They stay in contact, coordinate who handles what, share resources. Apparently, that nightmare last night was their idea of fun.” He explains. I gape at the phone.
“And, they’re all really disappointed that you smashed the coffee machine. They spent a lot of time weaving spells into it.” Eli adds cautiously. I make a strangled noise.
“They’re upset that I broke it? GOOD. I HOPE THEY’RE UPSET.” I yell. Eli laughs, sounding delighted.
“I figured you’d say something like that.” He responds.
“They’re insane.” I snap.
“Totally, utterly insane. What if someone had walked in? What if another human saw it? Aren’t they supposed to be worried about keeping magic a secret? That damn thing was screaming glitter!” I rant. Eli makes a disgusted sound.
“Yeah. I asked about that. You know what they said? That if a human had walked in, they’d just assume it was some elaborate prank or weird tech. Like you did.” He says with a groan which I echo, dragging a hand down my face.
“They’re not nearly as concerned about secrecy as they pretend to be.” Eli adds, his voice flat now.
“Apparently, most humans are so good at ignoring the weird that it’s basically a built in shield.” Eli sounds more than a little frustrated. He’s not the only one.
“Great… So not only am I the victim of some glitter infested magical hazing... It was authorized insanity from the top down. I love that. That’s great. That’s fine.” I mutter. Eli has started laughing on the other end of the line. I glare at nothing, completely pissed off.
“I just seriously can’t believe any of this.” I complain as I wander back to my room. I sit on my bed with my head in my hands, elbows on my knees. The mattress creaks a little under me as I stare down at the floor like it’s supposed to offer answers. No luck. Are responsible adults a thing of the past? Have they all just... Evaporated?
“Did you at least find out what that damn deactivation phrase was?” I ask, clinging to the faint hope that maybe some part of this night could make sense. Eli sighs, loudly. Dramatically. Theatrically.
“Well... Not anything on my list, that’s for sure.” He mutters.
“Apparently my boss gave them my list of common deactivation phrases, so they intentionally rigged it to get worse whenever I used one.” He pauses.
“Sorry about that…” He trails off guiltily. I let out a tired breath and shake my head, still staring at the floor.
“It’s alright. That’s not your fault. From what I can tell, your plan should have worked. But they were screwing with us. Mostly me. Though I guess they knew there was a chance I might call you for help, so they made it worse just in case… Bastards.” I mutter. Eli snickers.
“They really are.” He agrees. Then his tone shifts, frustrated and low.
“Apparently, instead of a deactivation phrase, they made the trigger something else entirely. If any human other than you had walked into that kitchen, it would’ve automatically stopped. All the mess would’ve vanished. Like it never happened.” He says quickly, like if he says it fast enough it won’t be as bad. Like tearing off a bandaid. I blink slowly. My jaw tenses. My fingers curl around the edge of the bed. I don’t even have words. When I don’t answer, Eli keeps going, his voice getting tighter.
“Yeah... That was part of the prank. If you’d called someone in for help, you’d have looked completely insane. And if you didn’t… Well, you know how long we spent cleaning.” He sounds genuinely pissed now. I don’t blame him. I can still feel that awful glitter in my hair. My shoulders ache from scrubbing.
“This is the absolute worst.” I grumble.
“I have one bit of good news, that might be a sort of consolation?” Eli offers cautiously.
“Yeah?” I ask warily.
“Well, they were timing you. To see how long it would take for you to panic and call in another human.” He starts. I frown.
“How is that good news?” I demand.
“It’s good news because you didn’t. Not even once. No matter how freaked out or pissed off you got, you never even considered calling someone outside the loop. That means you basically won.” He says it with such enthusiasm I almost forget I’m still mad.
“I really don’t feel like I won.” I say flatly.
“Well... Maybe not, I feel like I won. But for completely different reasons.” Eli replies with that warm, infuriatingly pleased tone. I’m glad he can’t see me right now, because I can feel the blush creeping up my neck. I tilt my head back and sigh at the ceiling.
“I have another question. Were YOU ever hazed?” I say, trying to refocus. Eli hesitates.
“Uh... Well... No. Not really. I didn’t need to join the magical community. I was born into it.” He says slowly.
“Right.” I say, unimpressed.
“So who else has been hazed?” I ask. There’s another pause.
“As far as I know? No one.” He answers. I freeze.
“They’ve apparently been planning this prank for years and were just waiting for the right person. Hazing you was the excuse they needed.” He admits reluctantly. I drop my head into my hands again.
“Ugh. This is like being the new guy at the fire station all over again.” I groan.
“I thought I was done with this kind of crap. Hazing is stupid. And pranks are only funny if they’re, you know, actually funny.” I insist. There’s a beat.
“Well... Now that I’m not itchy or covered in glitter… It was a little funny.” Eli says hesitantly. I sigh long and hard.
“I refuse to admit that.” I say firmly.
“Completely fair.” Eli agrees breezily.
After that, Eli and I talk for a little while longer, nothing particularly important, just back to our usual rhythm, the kind of easy banter that makes everything feel slightly less insane. But eventually, I have to end the call, despite Eli’s complaints, because I’ve got work to get to. Apparently some of us still have to pretend we function in the real world. As I pull into the station, I’m half expecting everything to still be covered in glitter. Or for the plumbing to have declared mutiny. Maybe a puddle of sentient sludge in the hallway, just for good measure. But nope. Everything looks completely normal. Which somehow feels... Worse. It takes me a few minutes to build up the nerve to approach the kitchen. As I pass Jarad, he claps a hand on my back and grins at me like I just won a medal.
“Thanks, man.” He says cheerfully.
“You’re welcome?” I reply, utterly baffled. What exactly is he thanking me for? I head toward the kitchen, mostly because I won’t be able to relax until I confirm with my own eyes that the demon coffee machine hasn’t returned. Magic is real. At this point, anything is possible. The first thing I notice is that the kitchen is immaculate. Like, suspiciously clean. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it this spotless. There’s not a single speck of glitter. No sludge. No weird purple stain in the tile grout. It’s like the room was bleached out. The second thing I notice, to my immense relief, is that the evil coffee machine is still gone. The third thing I notice is slightly more concerning, it’s been replaced. What now sits on the counter is a gleaming, stainless steel beauty of a machine. It looks like it belongs in an actual cafe. Not in our burnt toast and panic break room. Two of my coworkers are already in there, rifling through a gift basket and bickering over its contents. I approach cautiously.
“Damien! Thanks, I don’t know who you’ve been sucking up to, but it’s clearly worked.” Max says, grinning as he hands me a card. It’s purple. Of COURSE it’s purple. The front reads ‘Congratulations!’ in cheerful, glittery letters. In other news, I think I might hate the color purple now. I peer into the basket. It’s packed with all kinds of fancy coffee, specialty blends, expensive beans, flavoured syrups, little shakers of cocoa powder, cinnamon, nutmeg. There’s even a milk frother tucked in one corner. It looks amazing. And I trust NONE of it. Still, I open the card to see what fresh emotional manipulation awaits. The note is short.
Welcome to the team. Good luck!
That’s it. Simple. Almost... Genuinely nice. IF I can trust it. It’s not until two other people successfully make and drink coffees from the new machine, without growing extra limbs or starting to sparkle, that I dare to go near it myself. I reach into the cupboard and grab one of the generic, boring mugs, the kind that definitely isn’t enchanted, cursed, or possessed by anyone’s twisted sense of humor, and I very VERY cautiously, make myself a coffee. It looks perfect. It smells like redemption. It’s everything I’ve wanted for the past twenty four hours, maybe longer. I lift the mug slowly, reverently, ready to finally reclaim some small, hard won piece of peace. And then the sirens go off. Sharp, blaring, and completely unforgiving. I close my eyes, lower the mug and exhale. Of course. Of course I don’t get coffee. The cursed glitter, the sludge, the magical hazing, fine. I endured it. But this? This is true hell. I set the mug down without taking a sip, grab my gear, and head for the truck. The universe has made its stance clear. I will never get a decent cup of coffee. Not today. Not ever. And honestly? That’s the most magical bullshit of all.