[ WP ] Two powerful wizards , both dying of old age , decide to have one final fight with each other .

Crocket Creek Assisted Living was the furthest place from anyone's mind. Further really. No. Further than that. You ’ re close, but even the people who lived there didn ’ t want to think about it. Almost everyone who came through died of shear willpower after a few months of dry living. 
 
 That ’ s why it was the perfect stage for a display of raw magic. Not the kind they brought in on Saturdays at 3:00. Real magic. 
 
 Don had been living in the home since he was a ninety-two years old, and the poor guy didn ’ t even know what hit him. We know now that it was a bolt of pure molten fire that blasted through his wall incinerating him in an instant. 
 
 On the other side of said wall, in the cafeteria, Fredrick Von Doolenhoffer and Don, the other one from down the hall, were moving sluggishly in a wide circle charging various spells. Neither had charged a functional spell, in part because neither could remember a full spell. They ’ d been hurling “ Fire bah ’ s ” and casting “ -leeping ” spells to no effect. Well, to an undesired effect. 
 
 All across the Home lights were bursting, the dead were rising, and, strangest of all, people were in generally good moods. A man who had just flatlined cursed as his spirit was sucked back into his body. Then, he saw the woman across the hall who ’ d just been reverted to her youth. She winked at him. “ My lucky day ” he muttered. 
 
 In room 403C, Mrs. Fields was scratching her head wondering how her reflection had come to move independently of her, and her reflection was staring in awe at the fact that *her* reflection had become a ten foot tall lizard. 
 
 In short, it was shaping up to be a tough day for the orderlies. 
 
 Back in the cafeteria a sphere of pure energy was surrounding the two men. It was the kind of wavering energy you ’ d expect from two men near death. 
 
 “ Couldn ’ t keep your mouth shut could you, Don? ” Fred said. 
 
 “ Eh? ” Don replied. 
 
 “ I said. You couldn ’ t keep your little mouth shut could you?! ” Fred strained. 
 
 “ Come closer, Fred, so I can hear you. ” Don said. 
 
 “ Ha. Nice try. ” Fred laughed. 
 
 “ I really can ’ t hear you, Fred. It ’ s loud in here. ” 
 
 “ How ’ s this for close? ” Fred shouted, trying out a teleportation spell he ’ d learned as a fledgling wizard. It caused rain to begin pouring into the cafeteria. Outside a ship sailed past, dragging through the dirt as if the earth were hot butter, or tapioca pudding. 
 
 The two men were soaked through like old paper, but, out of unconscionable stubbornness, neither showed signs of giving in. Shuffle board was at noon, and that meant they had another thirty minutes to settle their dispute. So they fought. 
 
 There was zapping and crashing and crunching and, somewhere, a faint croaking, but the specifics of the sounds were debatable. Some claimed they sounded more like zings and cracks. 
 
 At any rate, a full minute and a half passed when suddenly the men discharged their spells. They locked eyes, in one of the most fierce staring contests ever witnessed, and then forgot what they were doing entirely. 
 
 It ’ s widely believed that the two are still alive and remain friends to this day. I ’ ve been meaning to take a trip out to Crocket Creek to see if that bit checks out. Oh well. It ’ s not like I did any real research for this piece anyway.
