The Snevil’s Wishes

       One early morning in medieval days, a Box-Snevil sat on his poison toad stool in the tree fortress.  He was sad that he couldn’t steal enough boxes for his king. 

     He thought out loud and mumbled, “I hope I get better at this box stealing because I really want to be a Snevil Arca.” 

All of a sudden the snevil heard a giant “GONG...GONG!” and a piano playing a ditty.  A fairy appeared on the table beside him and spoke in a squeaky voice.  “I am Vigmore, your fairy.  I will grant you two wishes.”  The tiny fairy looked like a miniature magician with a staff instead of a wand. 

The snevil’s mouth watered as he thought Vigmore looked scrumptious. 

Vigmore gasped, “Uh-oh!”  He quickly stuttered in a frightened voice, “Wish whenever you want to.”  Following his instincts, he disappeared in a cloud of sneezing powder. 

That same day after the traditional snevil naptime, the snevil was ordered to pick some mushrooms for the king.  Having to walk through the forest many miles, he grumbled, “I wish that the king could do his own work!” 

As soon as the words drifted away from the snevil’s mouth, Vigmore popped up in front of the king who was on his throne thinking about box taxes and informed the king about all he had previously spoke to the snevil.  With a tap of his staff on the king’s head, he granted the wish.

Immediately, the king appeared beside the snevil picking maggot-filled mushrooms.  The king exploded, “Look at my filthy hands!  Oh no! I’m getting dirt under my nails!  Eeep!  There are worms in these things!  Look! Look!  My crown!  It has mud on it!  What is that stench?!  My nostrils are burning!  AAAhh!”

Suddenly the king remembered what Vigmore had revealed.  The king began nagging the snevil to use his last wish to release him from this spell. 

After a long day of the king whining in his ear, the snevil finally wished that he had never met Vigmore.  As soon as he spoke, the king was poofed back to the castle. 

Sitting on his seat and leaning back slightly, the box snevil thought how lucky he was to even be a snevil grunt.  He had learned a valuable lesson that would help him through the years.  

To Wyatt Benjamin George Fehler:  I wrote this book because I knew you had read all the stories in your home library.  Down with box taxes!