Poop Mage: Manure Mysteries

The road to Emberfield stretched out before Bob, winding through fields and small groves of trees. The sun hung high, warming his back as he trudged forward. His spirits had lifted a little since he left the village, even with the constant farting from his “Overflow Release.” He was on a journey, after all, and getting closer to the Fire Guild. His dreams of real magic, real respect, seemed almost within reach.

Then he saw it—a lavish caravan coming down the road toward him. Colorful flags fluttered in the breeze, and elegant carriages rolled along the dirt path. Horses with shining coats and riders in fancy clothing surrounded the caravan, and in the middle of it all were a group of young noblewomen. They rode side by side, chatting and laughing with one another, their hair bouncing with every trot of their horses.

Bob’s eyes widened. “Wow... real nobles,” he whispered to himself, straightening up and wiping some dust off his clothes. He didn’t look like much right now—a ragged traveler covered in mud stains—but he could at least act like a proper hero. This was his chance to make a good impression.

He took a deep breath, pulled his shoulders back, and tried to walk tall and confident. As he got closer, one of the noblewomen spotted him and giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. A few others glanced over and smiled, clearly charmed by his awkward yet determined attempt at chivalry.

Bob’s face flushed with excitement. “Greetings, ladies!” he called out, trying to sound smooth. “I am Bob, a traveling adventurer on a great quest!”

The girls exchanged glances, giggling louder, and one of them called back, “Oh, how brave! And where are you headed, oh great adventurer?”

Bob felt his confidence growing. “To Emberfield!” he said proudly. “To train with the Fire Guild and become a powerful mage!”

The girls nodded, impressed, and one of them leaned down from her horse, batting her eyelashes playfully. “Well, good luck, brave hero,” she said sweetly. “May the flames guide you!”

For a moment, everything seemed perfect. But then... Bob felt it—a pressure building in his stomach. His eyes widened in horror as he realized what was about to happen.

“No, no, no... not now...” he muttered, clenching his fists and desperately trying to hold it in. But there was no stopping it.

PRRRRRRBBBTTTT!

A colossal fart erupted from Bob, the sound like a thunderclap. The blast of wind disheveled the girls’ hair, sending loose strands flying around their faces. The horses neighed in panic, and a few of them bucked and reared up, trying to bolt away from the smell. The odor hit like a wall, strong and putrid, causing everyone around to gag and cover their noses.

“Ew! What is that?!” one of the girls screamed, waving her hand in front of her face as if trying to swat the stench away.

“Disgusting!” another cried, pulling her horse back, eyes wide in shock. “What kind of prank is this?!”

Bob’s face turned beet red. He stammered, trying to say something—anything—to explain what had just happened. But the caravan was already moving away, the noblewomen shouting and holding their noses as they rode past him, the whole beautiful encounter ruined by his uncontrollable gas.

Just as Bob stood there, wishing the ground would swallow him whole, he heard someone laughing. Not a mocking laugh, but a deep, genuine belly laugh. Bob turned to see a young man, about his age, doubled over with tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. He wore fancy clothes like the other nobles, but his shirt was half-untucked, his hair messy, and his grin wide.

“That... that was amazing!” the young man choked out between laughs. “I’ve never seen anything like it! Just... BOOM! Right in their faces!” He clapped Bob on the back, nearly knocking him over. “Epic prank, my friend! Truly epic.”

Bob blinked, still red-faced and confused. “Uh... thanks?”

“I’m Cooper!” the man said, still grinning like a maniac. “Son of Lord Blackthorne, prankster extraordinaire, and soon-to-be fire mage—if my dad doesn’t strangle me first!” He laughed again, clearly pleased with himself. “You’re a genius, man! What’s your name?”

“Uh, I’m Bob,” he replied, still trying to process what was happening. “And, uh, that wasn’t... I mean, it wasn’t on purpose, I just—”

“Nah, no need to be modest,” Cooper interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “You can’t fool me, Pooper—I mean, Bob!” He let out another snort of laughter. “I know a master prankster when I see one.”

Bob's eyes darted around, and he bit his lip, trying to think of how to respond. But Cooper kept talking.

“You know, I’m headed to Emberfield too!” Cooper said, slinging an arm around Bob’s shoulders. “Gonna join the Fire Guild, learn to shoot flames, all that fun stuff. And I think you and I would make a great team! Just think of all the pranks we could pull along the way!”

Bob gave a nervous smile. “Uh, yeah... pranks...” he mumbled, trying to keep up the act. He didn’t want to admit that his “prank” was actually an uncontrollable fart caused by magic overflow. The last thing he needed was to let this guy know the truth about his powers.

“Then it’s settled!” Cooper said, clapping his hands together. “We travel together! And don’t worry, Pooper—” He grinned, clearly loving the nickname. “—with me around, you’ll be pulling the best pranks Emberfield’s ever seen.”

Bob forced a laugh, though inside he was cringing. “Yeah... great,” he said, giving a weak thumbs-up. “Let’s, uh... let’s go prank some people.”

As they set off down the road together, Bob couldn’t help but feel a mix of relief and anxiety. He was glad Cooper didn’t seem to care about the farting, but now he had a whole new problem: keeping his “Overflow Release” under control while traveling with the biggest prankster he’d ever met.

Traveling with Cooper was like living in a never-ending prank show. As they made their way toward Emberfield, Cooper found a way to turn everything into a joke. He was a whirlwind of tricks, always on the lookout for his next victim.

“Watch this,” Cooper would say with a mischievous grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Bob would look on as Cooper set up prank after prank. One day, they passed a group of farmers walking with buckets of water. Cooper snuck behind them, tied thin strings to the bucket handles, and rigged them to a branch above. As soon as the farmers reached the branch—SPLASH!—the water came pouring down all over their heads.

Bob chuckled nervously, trying to fit in, but his laugh was more forced than genuine. He didn't want to disappoint Cooper, who saw him as a master prankster, but the truth was, Bob didn’t have the heart for this kind of mischief. And worse, any spell mishap could blow his cover. Literally.

Another time, they came across a traveling merchant selling spices and cloth. As soon as the merchant’s back was turned, Cooper sneaked up and slipped a tiny stink bomb into one of the sacks. “Just wait,” he whispered to Bob, eyes wide with excitement. “He’ll open that in the middle of town, and boom—instant stink fest!” Bob winced but nodded, playing along. He could only hope the merchant didn’t find out too soon.

The pranks continued wherever they went. Cooper would coat gates of small villages with sticky tar, causing any passerby to get their hands covered in the gooey mess. He once tied a piece of string to a cat’s tail and ran around the town, causing the poor creature to drag tin cans behind it, which clanked and clattered loudly. And whenever Cooper succeeded in pulling off a prank, he’d double over in laughter, clutching his sides, with Bob giving a nervous, half-hearted chuckle.

Bob’s real focus was on controlling his magic. The last thing he needed was to accidentally let loose another fart in the middle of one of Cooper’s pranks. Every time his stomach rumbled with the telltale sign of the “Overflow Release,” Bob would pause, clutch his belly, and take deep breaths to keep things under control. It didn’t always work—sometimes a quiet little pfft would escape, but he managed to keep the big ones at bay.

Cooper didn’t let up on the nickname either. “You know, Bob,” he said one day as they were walking, “I don’t think I can call you just ‘Bob’ anymore. It’s too... plain. Too normal. I mean, you’re the guy who let out the most epic fart in front of a bunch of noble girls! You need a name that suits you.”

Bob's face burned red. “Uh, really? I think Bob’s fine...”

“No, no, no!” Cooper insisted, wagging a finger. “You’re ‘Pooper!’ It’s perfect!” He slapped Bob on the back with a grin. “Cooper and Pooper—the perfect prank duo!”

Bob winced but forced a smile. “Yeah... sure. ‘Pooper’ it is,” he said weakly. Inside, he cringed every time Cooper said it, but he didn’t want to ruin the guy’s fun. And besides, at least “Pooper” sounded a little... heroic? Kind of?

Cooper made it a point to sing about their new partnership, turning it into a jingle: “Cooper and Pooper, the best of the bunch! Always up to pranks, and out to munch!” He’d chant it over and over as they walked, trying to come up with new verses for their “theme song.”

Bob walked alongside him, nodding along to the tune, all while trying to keep a smile plastered on his face. But deep down, he couldn't help but feel like he was living a double life—one side of him pretending to be a jokester, the other side dreading the next time his magic went wrong.