Magicus Oncely was a wizard with an unusual problem. Not only was he five hundred years old, but when he needed his magic spells the most, he couldn't remember them. Wizards in any society are powerful beings, but in Nanaking, Magicus was the only wizard, and during his lifetime he made many influential enemies--including his once oldest and dearest friend, Jigie Wiggopolus.

Jigie had grown old, and along with growing old, sometimes people get cantankerous and mean-spirited from thinking about how they have missed grand opportunities to make something of themselves. Jigie wanted to be young again so he could correct the mistakes he thought he had made. He strongly believed Magicus had the spell to make him fifteen years old again.

One day, unintentionally, they confronted each other at the Frugool Café. Magicus strolled up to Jigie, forgetting the other man harbored no love for him but was, in fact, his declared enemy. "Argus Fargus but we haven't met in a while!" Magicus said. "How are you, Wiggopolus?"

Jigie growled and straightened his hair--which happened to be a patch of dry grass that kids liked to set on fire. A ladybug nestled inside the grass spread its wings and flew off. "There is nothing that makes me angrier than being called by my last name. My surname reminds me of squishy earthworms."

"Sorry Jigie. What's up?" Magicus noticed his friend's shirt buttons didn't match up again. And his pant legs were too long, which meant his bones had shrunk since the last time he'd had his trousers' hems adjusted.

"It's not what's up but what should be down," Jigie grumbled.

Concerned about his friend, Magicus reached out to try to comfort Jigie. "What should be down?"

Jigie jerked his arm away in disgust. "You old fool! You should be dead and some other fool of a wizard should be in your place casting magic spells."

Magicus didn't like the harsh tone Jigie used. He tugged on the white t-shirt thrown over his emerald-green wizard robes. The letters on the shirt read I ROCK in bright yellow. The t-shirt clashed with the orange spirals and elliptical shapes printed all over his robe. "It will be a long while before I'm ready to go to the Land Beyond. I'll be hauled off screaming and resisting with all my powers."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," Jigie muttered. Louder, to Magicus, he said, "I won't be thwarted."

"Why not?" Magicus asked, wondering why his best friend had become so hostile. He knew he needed to remember something important about Jigie, but he couldn't remember what it was. He shoved back his neon-purple baseball cap (the one he always wore with the brim to the back) and scratched his head.

"Because I have an evil heart filled with crawling maggots." This wasn't true but gave Jigie an idea. Why not hire someone to kidnap Magicus for him so he could finally get the wizard's spells and use them for his own benefit?

"You're not sounding quite like yourself today," Magicus said sympathetically.

Outraged, Jigie threw his hands in the air, infuriated by his friend's seeming kindness. "I want the magic spell that makes me young again!"

"I've told you a million times," Magicus protested, "I don't have a spell to make you young again."

Jigie patted his barrel-sized belly and peeked at Magicus with his permanent squint, a result of the inch-long scar streaking his right cheek. "You're lying, aren't you?"

Magicus shook his head, wary of his old friend's animosity. "Why would I lie to you? If I had a spell to make me young, don't you think I would have used it by now?" He lifted the hem of his robe and showed Jigie his knobby kneecaps and the veins bulging out at the back of his legs.

Hating that the wizard might have knobbier kneecaps than he did, Jigie rolled up his pant legs and glared at the veins popping out on the back of his own hairy legs. His knees didn't look worse than the wizard's. "You're just waiting for me to die," he moaned. "Then you'll use the spell that makes old men young again."

Magicus groaned. How could he convince Jigie that he had no spell? The wizard didn't want his old friend to die. Rather, he wanted to do some of the things they had done many years ago--like swim in a plastic pool filled with warm water, scare their neighbors, and roll toilet paper around crooked tree branches burdened with snow. Protesting didn't seem to do much good. Perhaps using logic might help. "If I could cast any spell I wanted, don't you think I would cast a spell so Jack wouldn't be afraid of the dark?"

Jack was a young boy who lived in a small house next to Magicus. Each night the house was lit up brighter than day. At dawn, Jack's dad turned the lights out, thankful his son hadn't awakened from his perpetual nightmares in a fit of screaming terror.

Jigie said nothing, so Magicus continued. "If I had all the right magic spells, wouldn't I be able to make Mrs. Wily-Spencer less jealous of Mrs. Snotenbrottle?"

Mrs. Wily-Spencer lived right next door to Mrs. Snotenbrottle, but Mrs. Wily-Spencer believed Mrs. Snotenbrottle had much more gold on the ceiling of her ornate living room than she actually did--which made Mrs. Wily-Spencer very jealous indeed.

Still, Jigie said nothing.