Some Wizards Went to Oxford

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(Disclaimer:  I am all the wizards.  Also, on a side note, a bunch of iconic Harry Potter scenes were filmed here.)

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The wizards were dummies. They just called themselves wizards because they were a bunch of goonballs. They went to Oxford and immediately got lost amongst the beige medieval spires and the beige stone walkways—it was actually quite marvelous once they were able to discern the beige buildings from the beige everything else.  There were tons of other dummies, too, wandering around and making it difficult to traverse the streets—tourists, of course; Oxford, for a city built by smarties, sure caters itself to dummies nowadays.  The wizards didn’t like being grouped in with the tourists, especially since they were on a class trip and not actually tourists, but, dwarfed by such great smartness and advanced magics, they didn’t really live up to Oxford’s non-dummy standards.

Beige.jpg

beige, beige, and more beige

A quasi-arch-mage (a.k.a., tour guide, whom the wizards, slightly jealous of all the smartness, kind of doubted to be a true Oxford man, because I don’t think you can specialize in tour-guide-ism at Oxford—but maybe he is actually super duper smart and just spends his time bragging about Oxford to tourists as a side gig, because, admit it, if you had an Oxford degree, wouldn’t you want to spend your free time bragging about it, too?) met them after they stopped being lost, but he almost lost them again as soon as he started the tour.  His shoulders were hunched due to either years of slouching or years of prolific magicking (depends whether he was an actual Oxford man-wizard or not), but, despite his age and his wizardly long grey hair, he had long legs, and he moved way too fast and never looked back to check if the dummy wizards were still following him.  They were, but only barely.  It was very difficult to keep up with his fast pace and shove through static gaping tourists blocking the streets at the same time.

Grand Oxford.jpg

Oscar Wilde specialized in making fun of people at this college

As the mage-of-questionable-merit sped along, he pointed out all kinds of intricately crafted beige blurs along the way—the wizards, hustling behind him, could see his hands pointing and his mouth moving in the distance, but they couldn’t really tell what he was saying because he was so far ahead of them.  Whenever he paused a sufficient amount of time for the wizards to catch up, he would mention some historic Oxford-mage or some great piece of magic conceived at Oxford, and he would be all like, “You know this man/spell, yes?” and the wizards would nod and be all like, “uh sure?” and the tour-mage would be all like, “of course you do, everyone who’s anyone knows this man/spell” and the wizards would smile and continue not knowing what the heck man/spell he was talking about.

The last thing the mage bragged about was how all the academic buildings in Oxford are themselves so smart and magical that they each, in their design and architecture, symbolize some transcendent moral value or whatnot.  Then the wizards were let free to roam the city, so they went to a book store and looked at all the legendary books of magic that were beyond both their magical abilities and their wallets’/purses’ abilities.

At the end of the day, the wizards went to an old tavern where Bill Clinton reportedly “did not inhale” any illicit greens in the 60’s.  They snagged an empty table with someone’s abandoned, but barely touched pint on it (don’t worry, it was definitely abandoned and not awaiting the return of whomever had been drinking it; the wizards waited to make sure nobody came back), and, after purchasing their own drinks to wind down from all the sprinting, they felt bold enough to push the limits of stupidity.

The universe must have balance, and the scales of Oxford lean too far in favor of genius.  It was a valiant sacrifice for the greater good that the wizards, driven by sorcerous intoxication and, once again, a lack of cash in the wallet/purse, decided to finish off the abandoned pint on the table.  Their ghosts haunt the tavern to this day, daring natural dummies, who might feel pressured by Oxford’s smarties, to give in to their nature and be dumb.  For the universe’s sake, be dumb sometimes.  But also, still be respectful.  The dummy wizards were respectful.  The end.

Church.jpg

where little boys sell their souls to be in the famous boys choir until their voices crack

Buttery.jpg

where smart people go to lather themselves in butter when they’re bored

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