Potion Princess

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Here is an original story sent to us by Kat The Cat.


Potion PrincessBy Kat the CatChapter 1Princess counted theswirls in her latest concoction as she waited for the wind chimes above herdoor to ring. The blue and pink swirls formed intricate designs in the cauldronbefore her.   47… 48… 49… 50!  Her potion was done. Princesstook one of the small glass vials lined up next to her and ever so carefullybegan to spoon the potion into it.   Ding!   The wind chimesunexpectedly jingled. Princess jumped and dropped the vial. It smashed upon thefloor into tiny shards of glass. The potion slowly spread across the floor.   “Cafuzzle,” she muttered. She hoped the potionwouldn’t alter the floor before she had a chance to clean it up. Last time shehad spilt a potion, the floor was covered with white carpeting for a week. Itwas soft, but it didn’t look good with the wooden shelves in her workshop. Witha sigh, she marched towards the door and opened it.    A small grey cat stood on thedoorstep. Her cheeks were wet, and Princess suspected it wasn’t just from thestorm raging outside. A bright red pimple had sprouted next to her nose. Shetrembled as she looked up at Princess. “I’m in need of a potion, ma’am,” shesaid.   “Of course,” replied Princess. “Come in.”   The cat followed her into her workshop. Most Webkinzwere awestruck by the sheer number of glass vials, spell books, and magicaltools adorning the many shelves, and this cat was no exception. She gazed,open-mouthed, at the room, and suddenly wrinkled her nose in disgust. “What isthat smell?” she exclaimed.   Too late, Princess realized that the potion she hadspilt earlier must be absorbing into the dark brown wood flooring by now. “Oh,”she stammered, “that’s just… a potion I was working on earlier. Take a seat,will you?” she said, motioning the cat towards one of two wooden chairs.   The cat looked at her skeptically but took her seat.   Princess busied herself sweeping the workshop with abroom soaked in a high-strength cleaning potion. “So, what brings you to myworkshop?” she addressed the cat.   “Can’t you see?” sighed the cat miserably. She pointedto her nose, where the pimple had sprouted.   Princess looked at it with mild interest. “Only apimple? I thought you had a real dilemma for me, my dear.” Webkinz used to cometo her shop for actual disasters, like illness, extermination of pests, andendless injuries, but now they came running to her with the most trivialproblems.   The cat looked at her and burst into tears.   “What ever is the matter?” said Princess, quite takenaback. Pets sometimes were turned off by her down-to-earth manner, but theydidn’t usually start crying.   “It’s… it’s… him!” the cat sobbed.   Princess wondered who “him” was. A sorcerer, perhaps?She hadn’t had a good duel in quite some time. Not since the epidemic, anyway.She shook her head. She didn’t want to think about the epidemic now. Not when acat was sobbing in her workshop.   “That is quiteenough of that,” she said sternly, but not unkindly. “No use crying; you’llnever get anything done by wallowing in self-pity. Now who is ‘him’?”   The cat sniffed. “Ollie. He’s this boy at my school,and he’s kinda cute...”   Princess stifled a yawn. She had heard her fair shareof stories from heartbroken girls, and she knew exactly how each one went everytime, without even using her mind-reading potion.   “…I really like him, and he’s nice to me as well.” Thecat finished.   Princess blinked. “So what’s the problem?”   “This!” The cat pointed to her pimple. “I can’t go toschool like this! Everyone will laugh at me! And he’ll think it’s a totalturn-off! Please! You gotta help me!” She started to cry again.   “Oh for heaven’s sake, stop crying, child,” said Princess, exasperated. “Of course I’ll helpyou. Just sit here and let me get a potion ready…”   In the next five minutes, Princess ran around theworkshop, finding the proper potions. “Half a bottle of 142… quarter bottle of568… half of 973…” she muttered to herself as she searched the shelves for thenumbered potions. She had been trained in memorizing each and every potion’snumber when she was small. Now she could gather the ingredients for anaverage-level potion in five minutes flat. Soon a potion was simmering in theblack cauldron and Princess was stirring it. “So tell me more about this boy ofyours,” she said to the cat.   Princess listened to the cat’s babbling as she countedthe bubbles in the mixture. Apart from silky fur and a prizewinning smile, theboy in question didn’t seem too interesting. He also seemed kind of mean.   “Pardon me,” she said after the cat was finished, “butthis boy… he seems very disrespectful, don’t you think? And he has thepersonality of – if you will – mildew.”   The cat giggled. “Yeah, you’re right. Maybe he’s notso great after all.”   The potion had made 73 bubbles; it was done. Shespooned the potion into a cup. “Drink this,” she said, shoving the cup underthe cat’s nose. She obligingly downed the whole cup.    As Princess watched, the pimple shrank, anddisappeared within one minute. The cat gazed wide-eyed in a mirror at theminiscule red dot that remained.    “Thank you so much!” cried the cat, jumping up fromthe chair and hugging Princess. Princess stood stiffly, unsure of what to do.Huggers always made her feel uncomfortable. “You really live up to your name,ma’am,” said the cat adoringly. “You really are the Potion Princess.”   After the cat had gone, Princess left her potions andinstead sat in the old wicker chair, thinking. Every time someone saw her,every time someone called her by her title, she remembered that day. That day,back on a sunny day in May, where it all began.