[ WP ] The world 's oldest , most powerful wizard has had enough of his life . After two thousand years of adventure and magic he desires normalcy . Today is his first day at work as a janitor for an office building . He 's determined to fit in and not use his powers . How does it go ?

I thought I was a master of myself. Two millennia have gone since my apprenticeship began. Discipline beyond comprehension drilled so deeply into the core of my mind. I have outlasted trees in stubbornness, I have meditated upon the rise of a hill as I sat upon it over a century and a half. I am known in the inner circles of my guild as the inventor of seventeen types of meditation, three of which are taught only to those wizards who have mastered their crafts and proven their trustworthiness with matters as delicate as flower petals and as sensitive as a baby's tum. How could I have been so wrong? How could I have missed the rending of the spirit that would come with my decision to abandon my life? I have divested myself of everything I thought I knew, and now I risk it all. I know that if a glimmer of magic crosses the tips of these fingers, I will have lost my very lifesource. I know that my fate is sealed, that my only path now is forward into this life of my own choosing, this noose of an existence, and yet... even with that knowledge, my discipline is faltering. Fire, blistering ice, purification spells, they are so close, so tantalizingly close, that I am forced now to meditate and turn all of my spiritual force toward their avoidance... my tongue works soundlessly behind clenched teeth as spells cross my mind in spite of myself. I have had to bind my left thumb to my wrist, as i caught myself beginning the Clasp of Zim on more than one occasion, quite against my own volition. I have never been closer to defeat. Another! Yet another! The Curse of motherFUCKING Ramrod skitters across my consciousness. It feels as though I have been in this life more than the last, and yet I know by their primitive timepieces that it has scarcely been three days. I am faltering. How? How can it be possible that these meagre beings have mastered this infuriating art and I ( I! ) can not perform this simplest of tasks? I will take my first repose soon, an hour, and call it a moral victory at the very least, for not having crumbled under this searing frustration, this white-hot crush of violent rage, this- 
 
 `` Rick!'' 
 
 `` Rick!'' 
 
 I can not face him. I can not face this man in such dismal failure. I have avoided him now for three days. I have avoided the unveiling of my shame for three nights. I am not mentally prepared to suffer the wrath of this puny being. I fear that his first misstep will cause me to end myself by summoning a basilisk to eat him. 
 
 `` Rii-iick!'' 
 
 Oh dear god, does he think I am a lost pet? Does he dare summon Ri'kzla as though I have slipped his attention during a woodland hike? 
 
 `` Rick! Holy hell man, where have you been?'' 
 
 Dear gods, I am found. 
 
 `` You're in the weirdest kind of trouble. The boss has been looking for you since Monday afternoon... you okay man? You look... holy shit dude, you look fucking wrecked. Did you wax and buff all the floors on every wing since Monday? You know we only do those once every six months on a rotation, right? Nancy on the children's ward tell me she saw you shimmying across window ledges buffing the windows without any harness. That... well, I was going to say that ca n't be right, but I do n't think I've ever been able to see out these windows at all for all the soot caked on it, so... wait, is that the only rag you have?'' 
 
 `` Silence.'' 
 
 `` The fuck are you talking about, silence? Listen Ricky, security has been tying themselves in knots trying to figure out what ghost keeps disarming the security systems after hours, the boss was about three minutes from deleting your file because he thought you were some sort of drifter, and now... Have you been here... all this time... Wait. Seriously, I am only seeing that one black rag in your hand. The windows on this place have been buffed shiny, but... I have n't noticed a missing trolley. Where's the rest of your stuff? Dude? YO!'' 
 
 *Ri'kzla stared and slowly his mouth began to tremble. The words kept resounding in his ears. * 
 
 the *only* rag? the *only* rag? Could it... could they be so rudimentary? Can they possibly have to replenish something so simple as a rag? Do they not have eternal cleansing as the elves do? Or for that matter Mammoth cloth, as the wood trolls have used for aeons? How could I have been so... so stupid? 
 
 `` Speak to me Rick...'' 
 
 `` Did you say, trolley? What is... a trolley'' 
 
 `` Yeah, you know, with the fresh rags and window cleaning solution-'' 
 
 `` You... you have... potions for...'' 
 
 `` Potions? Ha! Yeah that's right Dumbledore. Windex potion for the inside and another potion for the outside. You're fucking weird man.'' 
 
 `` And these potions... do they prevent streaks?'' 
 
 `` Well... I use old newspapers if I really want a shine, but yeah they're pretty good. Are you okay man?'' 
 
 He knew he was sinking, but he also knew it did n't matter. The spells were relegated back to the depths of his inner vault. His relief flowed through him like fatigue at a mountain's summit. He would learn. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have succumbed so thoroughly to pride, and assumed that life's eternal lesson would cease simply because he was amongst these simpletons? He felt the coldness of the floor against his cheek as the darkness enveloped him. He slept, secure in his newfound path. He would learn to master these windows with the help of the trolley and the potions. 
 
 `` You, uh... you ca n't really sleep... well, I guess nobody really comes up here much anymore anyway. You're gon na get carpal tunnel if you keep your thumb tied up like that... You're a weird guy Ricky. I'll just tell the boss you went home.''
