Moone Boy: The Notion Potion

It was the day after the Trepdem fallout, and Martin was absolutely miserable. He was lying on his bedroom floor, dejected, and as I stood over him, an old Realsie phrase came to mind: ‘Never kick a man when he’s down.’ Obviously, I wasn’t about to kick him. For one thing, that’s forbidden in the ‘IF Regulations for Reasonable Regard of Realsies’.

IF Regulations for Reasonable Regard of Realsies

Rule 17. Never kick your Realsie, especially when they’re down.

Rule 18. Never pretend that you’re really a ghost.

Rule 19. Never tell your Realsie to set stuff on fire.

Rule 20. Never show them your weird gills.

But I feared that what I was about to do to Martin would feel like a kick. A kick of words to his puny, defenceless ears. You see, I’d decided to tell him the truth. The Wonkey had talked me into it, and I suspected that this truth bomb would not explode into confetti and gumdrops and fill his heart with joy. It would be more like a stink bomb of filthy facts and rotten revelations, and I certainly didn’t fancy dropping it on him when he was already down.

But then again, maybe more bad news might actually make him feel better. Two negatives make a positive, right? Or do two negatives start a family and make lots of baby negatives? Who knows . . . ? But I was about to find out.

‘Did all the other teams get disqualified from the Invention Convention except for us?’

‘Did you and the other imaginaries sneak into the workshop and secretly finish building the Tub Grub 2000?’

‘But you’ve got good news, right, Sean? Surely you wouldn’t tell me any bad news right now?’

I gulped, and carried on. ‘Well, Martin, I did try to tell you earlier, but . . . the truth is . . .’

My throat went dry, and I glanced at the Wonkey. He gave a supportive look and tried to do an encouraging thumbs-up, which was a bit tricky with a hoof. It just looked like he was pointing at the ceiling, which confused me a bit.

‘The truth is . . . I, eh . . . I actually forget what I was going to say now! Isn’t that weird? Hahaha!’ I laughed loudly at a baffled Martin.

Wilbert glared at me. ‘Oh, spit it out, Sean! You can’t keep deceiving the boy!’

‘Oh, he’s a great talker! And an even better truth-teller!’ I added, edging away. ‘So I’m now going to hand this over to Wilbert to continue. And I’ll just be under here . . .’ I said, diving under the bed, ‘organizing these dust balls!’

Wilbert sighed and turned back to Martin. ‘Very well. I shall tell you the truth myself.’

The Wonkey sat down on a chair and pulled out a pipe from somewhere in his matted fur. He puffed on it a few times, and then began his story.

He told Martin about everything that had happened on the quest – about Nelly, the Dorcs, the old merchant at the Well Well Well, and how I had traded my beard for a bottle of Notion Potion.

‘’Twas late in the day when we descended from the peak of Mount Figment,’ recounted Wilbert. ‘Sean and I were both feeling upbeat and triumphant. We had successfully secured the genius juice, although Sean had paid a dear price with the loss of his beard and the exposure of his hideous mole.’

‘At the Figment foothills, we found the magical turtle Nelly waiting for us, and climbed aboard her magnificent shell. We rode south for many hours through the great Desert of Doziness. The night grew hot and humid, and I found myself overcome with a powerful thirst.’

‘I’m not proud of what I did, Martin, and I dare say that I didn’t give two hoots about how much you needed that drink. I simply seized the nearest beverage within reach – which happened to be your Notion Potion – and brought the bottle to my parched lips.’

‘Don’t blame me! I was asleep! I always fall asleep on turtles. Those shells are surprisingly comfy.’

Martin shook his head in frustration and turned back to Wilbert who continued his tale.

‘What happened next is a bit of a blur. My toes started to spasm. My ears popped. I did a small barf in my mouth. And then suddenly my head was filled with all the wisdom of the world. And like your story of the Salmon of Knowledge, it was the wrong person who’d been given this gift. I was like the young servant boy, Fionn mac Cumhaill, who poked the fish and accidentally gained all of its powers.’

Martin stood up and paced around, trying to make sense of all this. ‘But – I don’t understand. You brought back the Notion Potion. The bottle was full! Did you go back up the mountain?’

The Wonkey shook his head. ‘When Sean awoke and realized what had happened, he was furious. We talked about going back, but without a spare beard, we knew we’d get nothing from the old merchant.’

‘We carried on towards home in defeat,’ continued Wilbert. ‘I still needed to be milked, but Sean was too angry to do it for me. And so, using my newfound intelligence and the remaining supplies in the adventure-backpack, I built a contraption to milk myself, and refilled the empty potion bottle.’

Martin’s jaw dropped. ‘Oh, good gravy. So that’s what I drank?! Wonkey milk?!’

At this point, I was trying to crawl quietly out of the bedroom, but Martin grabbed me by the ankles and yanked me back. ‘Sean Murphy! Why didn’t you tell me the truth?’

‘I tried,’ I whimpered. ‘But before I could get a word out, you were already chugging down the bottle. And the weird thing, Martin, was that it kinda worked! I mean, it didn’t work, since it was just Wonkey milk – and imaginary Wonkey milk, at that – but you thought it was Notion Potion, and so you thought you’d become a genius! And that was all you needed, Martin. That gave you the confidence to write up your ideas for the Tub Grub 2000 – ideas that were already in the back of your mind anyway. So in a weird way, the quest succeeded! It helped you unleash your idea. And that’s all that really matters – right?’

Martin glared at me and then sank down on his bed, looking defeated. ‘All this time I thought I was a genius,’ he muttered. ‘But I was just an idiot.’

‘I’m sorry I kept the truth from you, buddy,’ I told him. But he didn’t even look at me. He just stared at the ground.