Wolfram Magic

 

I dated a girl named Erica Wolfram for a

short time in high school. Her (tongue)

was out(stan)ding. She was hard to get

along with, had a high melting point,

and could drill into you if she wanted to

find something out. She was a metal

head with red hair…a bit too

mechanical…so I moved on…

…try to keep up.

 

There were´t many people in the tavern

that early in the evening. He plopped his

burlap bag on the wooden bench next to

the one he was sitting on, and ordered a

tankard of beer. The locals knew him as a

strange sort, a loner and a prospector. He

gave no offense and was largely ignored.

The owner, whom he knew, came over to

his table. ¨Anything interesting in your

bag today?¨ the owner asked. ¨Maybe,¨

said Stan (because that was his name),

¨let´s see.¨  Stan rummaged in his bag

for a few seconds only before he pulled

out what appeared to be a quite heavy

rock or chunk of metal. ¨What´s that?¨

asked John, because that was the owner´s

 name.  ¨It´s a nugget of wolfram, a very

mysterious substance with magical

powers.¨ said Stan. ¨Oh…it looks pretty

hefty. Can I use it as a door stop for a

little while? It´s pretty windy today.¨

¨Sure.¨ said Stan, not sure what the rock

would think of the situation. It was a big

rock. It could take care of itself. If it didn´t

resonate with the vibrations of a particular

scene or environment, it would put out

waves that melted the dynamic. Suddenly,

a crowd about to riot and loot and burn

starts dancing and singing and laughing.

That´s why he liked having it around…

......like breadsticks, cheese and wine.