As he’s escorted in, a man in a suit follows behind him.

“Have a seat,” he says. The man points to one of the chairs and sits down in the opposite chair before setting down a stack of papers on the table with a tablet on top of it.

“My name is Greg Halvesworth.” He extends his hand across the table to shake as GPIII nervously sits down.

GPIII takes his hand. “I’m Grengitiv Paula III. Nice to meet you.”

Greg raises an eyebrow at his unique name. “Think this is funny, huh?”

“N-no sir, I don’t,” GPIII responds.

“Then let’s try this again. What’s your name?”

“That was my real name, sir…”

“You gotta be kiddin’ me.” Greg rolls his eyes.

“So I take it you’re uhh… some kind of wizard, huh? You guys are rare… don’t come to town much and usually don’t get in people’s hair nor draw much attention to yourselves.” He holds intense eye contact.

GPIII tries to sit up straight and act confident, but his nervousness is apparent.

“Yes, that would be correct, sir.”

“Alright… so tell me why we found you in your tiddy whiteys, passed out in the middle of a ruined grocery store, geeked off enough cocaine to kill a horse.”

GPIII’s eyes widen at the word cocaine.

“Cocaine!? N-no sir, I would never.”

The man takes a paper from the stack showing drug test results.

“The urine test we took came back horrific. We found enough cocaine in your system to kill just about any animal you can think of. How you’re alive can only be blamed on some kind of magic or miracle.”

GPIII takes the paper and looks at it in shock and horror.

“What?? I’ve never done any kind of drugs in my life! Closest thing I got is potions and elyxirs! Swear it on Archmagous Dinkleberg!”

The man looks up at him with a tired expression.

“What events led up to this?”

“Oh uh… well, I was just thinkin’ about how bad I wanted it to snow, and some peculiar feller came up to me and said he was selling snow. I ended up buyin’ some, and since it smelled nice, I sniffed a bunch of it. Suddenly it started snowin’. I played in it for a while, then I woke up in that there grocery store…”

“Mr. Paula… there were 50 mg of cocaine flowing through your body when we found you. I’m sorry, but you didn’t buy snow  you bought a highly illegal and addictive stimulant. As much as I don’t believe it was an accident, I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. We’ll let you get in contact with your lawyer, but either way this goes, you’ll be looking at a good while in prison for both the use of an illegal substance and the destruction of public property. Good day to you, sir. I wish you the best of luck.”

Greg stands up and leaves the room.

GPIII is left there in shock.

“Prison time… I can’t go to jail… no, I can’t… I gotta get out of here. Where’s my wand!”

GPIII starts tweaking a little. He’s dead set on not going to jail. He gets up and waits by the door. A cop opens it shortly after. GPIII punches the cop immediately, knocking him out. He pulls the cop’s belt off and takes his gun. He then takes his blue dress shirt off the cop and puts it on since he’s still in his underwear.

Once dressed, he starts sprinting through the station searching for an exit. People all around him notice; next thing he knows, he’s being chased by multiple cops. GPIII jumps a bit as he realizes and speeds up.

“I CAN’T GO TO JAIL! GO AWAY!!!!”

He raises the gun into the air, showing he’s armed. The cops duck back, hiding behind things, several of them drawing their guns. GPIII stops running and faces them. He raises the gun and shakily tries to intimidate them.

“Stay back, I’m warning you!”

One of the cops raises a gun. GPIII notices and points his at him.

“FIREBALL!” he shouts before squeezing the trigger, letting off a single shot that echoes through the station. He misses.

Immediately a torrent of gunfire erupts from the sea of cops in front of him. He squeals and ducks behind a pillar. He points the gun around the pillar and starts shooting repeatedly without looking where he’s shooting.

“FIREBALL FIREBALL FIREBALL FIREBALL MOTHER F**KER!”

No shots land, and he quickly runs out of ammo. He sprints for a nearby door and locks himself inside a small storage room. It’s full of closets, boxes, and random objects, with a single window. He grabs a small blue hammer, turns the lights off, and presses his back to the wall beside the door. He pants as he clutches the hammer, hands shaking. He’s scared  but he will not go to jail. Jail means no snow, and no snow means infinite sadness.

The cops bang on the door for a while. Eventually, with a loud bang, the door swings open and a cop runs in before getting a hammer smushed into his nose, knocking him out. He’s laid out on the floor as a bunch of other cops pour into the room.

GPIII starts hurling random objects at them, loudly announcing the name of each object before throwing it as if it were a spell.

“CACTUS! DUCK! WATER BOTTLE! BALLOON! HAND SANITIZER!”

Everything he pelts the cops with bounces off them, but makes them flinch nonetheless.

GPIII picks up a sizable white metal chair and raises it above his head.

“CHAAAIIIIRRRRR!”

The cops duck down and start reaching for their guns, some putting their hands above their heads to block the oncoming seat of doom thrown by the half-naked Olympian wizard crackhead.

The chair flies at the nearest cop and bashes into his head with a loud CLANG. The cop drops to the floor, knocked out immediately.

GPIII panics, looking for more things to throw, when his eyes land on the window. He immediately sprints for it, throwing things behind him in the process. He leaps and flies through the window, shattering it with his head.

He quickly realizes this was a bad idea as he sees an estimated 12-foot drop below him. He tucks his head under his arms and hits the grass, laying flat on the ground with a big thump. He groans in pain. He feels like he broke something and feels like he’s gonna throw up.

He has no time to waste. He quickly gets up and starts running for the road. He runs for a while, luckily with no one tailing him. He’s escaped.

It takes hours, but he gets back to his secluded cabin in the woods, one of his many homes. He’s freezing cold. He kicks open his door and runs inside, sighing as he feels the warmth of his home.

He limps through his house holding his side. He approaches a fancy glossed wooden dresser and opens one of the drawers. He pulls out a spare wand and points it at himself.

“Epiijate.”

His broken bones heal along with the rest of his injuries. His fatigue vanishes and he sighs in relief.

GPIII opens a separate drawer and starts dressing himself. He looks up at his window to see small white sparkles falling from the sky, covering the ground.

He freezes and stares out the window.

“Snow…”

A tear rolls down his cheek.