Chapter 2: Wishes Gone Wild
The next morning, Monty woke to a cacophony of sounds outside his window. Groggy and still half-asleep, he pulled back his curtains to reveal what could only be described as complete and utter mayhem.
The lavender-glowing lamppost from the previous night was now breakdancing in the middle of the street, spinning on its base like a professional performer. Mrs. Goggins’ cat, now free of its incessant shedding, was perched atop her fence wearing what looked like a tiny top hat and monocle, meowing in perfect harmony with the lamppost’s movements. Across the street, a man was engaged in a heated debate with his bicycle, which was still mooing after yesterday’s wish.
“Oh no,” Monty muttered. “It’s worse than I thought.”
He barely had time to process the chaos when Penny burst through his front door, breathless and grinning from ear to ear.
“Monty!” she exclaimed, holding up her phone. “You’re famous! Look!”
She shoved the phone into Monty’s face. On the screen was a hastily filmed video of him holding the magical muffin, making his mismatched sock wish. The title read: “The Muffin That Grants Silly Wishes—Live in Wobblewood!”
Monty groaned. “This is bad, Penny. Really bad. Everyone’s going to want a piece of this muffin!”
“That’s kind of the point,” Penny said with a shrug. “Think about it—this could put Wobblewood on the map! Tourism, business, maybe even a new bakery expansion for Mr. Bunbury.”
Monty gave her a skeptical look. “Tourism? Business? Penny, we’ve got a tap-dancing lamppost in the middle of town and a bicycle that’s more cow than transportation. This isn’t progress; it’s pandemonium!”
As if to emphasize his point, a passing child squealed with delight as their balloon dog literally barked and started wagging its tail.
Determined to get to the bottom of things, Monty and Penny made their way to the town square, where the crowd was larger than ever. People from neighboring towns had started arriving, eager to see the magical muffin in action. A makeshift stage had been set up, and Mr. Bunbury was standing proudly behind it, holding the muffin aloft like it was the crown jewel of Wobblewood.
“Step right up, folks!” he bellowed. “Behold the Muffin of Many Mysteries! One wish per customer, but remember—only silly wishes allowed!”
Monty elbowed his way through the crowd, dragging Penny behind him. “Mr. Bunbury, we need to talk,” he said once he reached the stage.
Mr. Bunbury’s mustache twitched with amusement. “Ah, Monty, my boy! The town’s newest celebrity. What can I do for you?”
“Call this off,” Monty said, gesturing to the chaos around them. “This muffin is causing too much trouble. It’s not safe!”
“Nonsense!” Mr. Bunbury replied with a hearty laugh. “This muffin is the best thing that’s happened to Wobblewood in years. Look at all these happy faces!”
Monty opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, a woman stepped up to the stage with a mischievous glint in her eye.
“I wish my husband’s snoring sounded like a symphony instead of a freight train!” she declared.
The muffin shimmered, and somewhere in the crowd, a man sneezed. Moments later, the sound of violins and trumpets echoed through the square, accompanied by confused murmurs.
The crowd erupted into laughter and applause, but Monty was less amused. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about! It’s only a matter of time before someone makes a wish that backfires horribly.”
Back at Monty’s cottage, he and Penny sat at the kitchen table, staring at the muffin. After much persuasion (and the promise of a free pastry), Mr. Bunbury had agreed to let them take the muffin home for safekeeping.
“This thing is a ticking time bomb,” Monty said, eyeing the muffin warily. “We need to figure out how it works—and fast.”
Penny nodded, pulling out her notebook. “Alright, let’s think. Every wish so far has been silly, right? Like the tap-dancing lamppost or the mooing bicycle.”
“Right,” Monty said. “And it only grants one wish per person.”
“Okay, but what happens if someone makes a wish that’s not silly?” Penny asked. “Like… I don’t know, wishing for world peace or unlimited money?”
Monty shuddered. “I don’t think we should test that. If this muffin thrives on silliness, who knows what could happen if someone tries to break the rules?”
Penny tapped her pen against her chin. “Then maybe the answer is to out-silly the muffin. Make it so ridiculous that it shuts itself down.”
Monty frowned. “Out-silly the muffin? How do we even do that?”
Before Penny could answer, there was a knock at the door. Standing on the doorstep was a frazzled man holding what appeared to be a very large pumpkin.
“Please,” the man said, looking desperate. “I need to make a wish. My scarecrow keeps sneezing, and it’s scaring away the crows.”
Monty sighed and stepped aside to let him in. “Fine. But make it quick—and keep it silly.”
As the man made his wish (something about the scarecrow singing lullabies instead of sneezing), Monty couldn’t shake the feeling that things were spiraling out of control. The muffin’s magic was spreading faster than they could contain it, and every new wish brought more chaos to Wobblewood.
That night, as Monty lay in bed, he stared at the muffin sitting on his bedside table. It looked so ordinary, so harmless, and yet it had turned his quiet little town into a circus of absurdity.
“What are you, really?” Monty whispered, as if the muffin might answer.
The muffin shimmered faintly in the moonlight, almost as if it was smiling.
Monty rolled over with a groan. “This is going to be a long week.”
