When the Foolish Owl addressed Dr Sheba with the problem of extreme foolishness, Dr Sheba at once diagnosed a simple case of laziness, lacksadaisical approach, lack of homework, scant preparation and sloppy application.
You cannot expect to become wise overnight, she said, wisdom requires knowledge, cross referencing, historical perspective, empathy, sound in mind and body, hip to the situation, ready to roll, hit the ground running. Need I continue?
No, said the Foolish Owl, I think that I have secretly been aware of my failings all along, and just hoped that there might be some Silver Bullet that could get me out of the hole, which I have dug and jumped into.
Well, now that you mention it, said Sheba, I do have a Silver Bullet that I have been saving for a rainy day and a werewolf. It takes the form of a powder which can be sluiced down with any liquid of your choice except lemonade, as the two are incompatible.
I’m sure that this would make you wise in an instant, she continued, however, be warned, there can be side effects and consequences. No pain, no gain, though.
Is there pain involved? said the Foolish Owl hesitating, In any event I will give it a go. Is it reversible if things go belly up?
No, said Sheba, If the outcome is less than advantageous, I would have to lock you in a darkened room and feed you through a slot in the barricades.
This could easily turn into a horror story, said the slightly wiser Owl, I shall have to be wary of strange figures in the shadows. By the way, how do you shoot a powder, with or without lemonade, out of a gun?
I can see that there is going to be a learning curve involved here, said Sheba rummaging under the counter, Ah yes, here we have it. She took a packet, marked Silver Bullet, out, and taking the corner in her fingertips, shook it vigorously. Which beverage would you prefer to wash it down with.
Vole blood, if you have any, or is that a bit gory for our readers.
No, no, said Sheba, They are all grown up now. I’ll see what I have in the fridge.
Sheba returned with a reddish liquid. Now let me see what it says in the instructions.
She brought the packet close to her eyes, as she had put her glasses down somewhere safe earlier.
So, have you had anything savoury to eat in the last 24 hours? No. Have you felt dizzy, overworked, overwrought or upset? No. Are you currently taking any other medications or indulging in an excess of alcohol? No. Do your neighbours always put their recycling in the correct bins? I don’t see how that can be relevant. It speaks to a relaxed frame of mind. Oh, OK, then, no. Have you had any hallucinations, dreams or voices in your head recently? Yes. Good, that’s normal. Last, but not least, have you left the country by a main transport hub wearing a hoody in the last year. That will be a no, said the Owl.
Ok, said Sheba, and she tore the corner off the packet and carefully poured the contents into the reddish liquid. She stirred it about with a glass swizzling stick. There you go, she said, handing the glass to the owl, Down in one.
The Owl stood still, a small drip of the liquid still hanging on the end of her beak. Yuk, she said, it would have gone down better with lemonade.
To say that there was a pregnant pause would be to underplay the tension of the moment that ensued. Neither Sheba nor the Owl moved a muscle or feather. Then as the pause matured, a sound as of distant thunder emanated from the Owls claws and worked its way up to the tips of its ears.
Electric sparks began to drift from the end of each feather and an aura of pulsing rainbow colours surrounded the creature.
Just as the Owl was about to say, I feel wiser already, a demonic energy took over its left eye, which started to revolve in an independent fashion, it raised its left wing only and tried to take off, this caused it to spin around like a windfarm.
I think, said Sheba, that the darkened room would be a wise precaution at this point.
I am the walrus, muttered the Owl, and allowed itself to be ushered into the dungeon,
You stay there and rest, said Sheba, You are the Eggman, said the Owl. I shall be back in a decade or so when the side effects have run their course, said Sheba.
She carefully, quietly, locked the door and threw away the key.
As she mounted the dungeon steps, back into the world of light, she heard a plaintive voice proclaiming, We are the Eggmen, and then silence.
The Guardians of the Cave 