The master magician waved his wand,
And I tumbled from a long, black sleeve,
An ornery five-legged dragon, coughing
Up flames and charred feathers. With a sneeze,
He turned me into a rabid rodent,
Sending his accomplice into a panic,
As she lifted her skirt, and danced a jig
Across the stage. Next, he snapped
his fingers, transforming me into a troll,
Complete with oily facial blemishes
And patches of dark fur in mysterious,
Yet sensible places. And this is how
I shall remain, having sawed my creator
In two, after poking him with a blunt,
Shiny sword, whilst devouring his
bony, but delicious assistant.
But there's no reason for alarm.
They didn't feel a thing,
And the only blood spilled
Was my own.