The Chronicles Of Harold The Healer Ch 16

Harold the Healer, Chapter 16: Harold's Birthday, Part One

"Happy Birthday, Papa!" It was far too early in the morning for anyone to be this bouncy, but somehow Harold's eleven-year-old daughter Marcie managed it. Every day. Harold Moser, Doctor of Magical Medicine and Veterinary Medicine, recipient of the Order of The Kingdom, the Golden Star of Carcosa, and the Silver Star for Valour, grunted and pulled the covers over his head. Stormy, the kitten he'd rescued from the roadside rest stop five weeks ago, was displaced and decided to join his three-legged adopted sister Daisy, whom Leila had acquired the same day from a pet shop because nobody wanted her, in attacking his feet.

"Lies!" he announced with bedding-muffled denial. "My birthday is January 5th!"

"That's my birthday, Harold," said Leila Parsons, his beloved wife and mother of Marcie. She was standing on the floor next to her side of the bed dressed in a pink nightie with her half copper, half silver hair that fell below her shoulders in disarray from having just gotten up a few minutes ago.

"See, I remember your birthday, sweetheart!"

"You're supposed to remember it on the day, not four months before it!"

"September, January, whatever. I'm rejecting this birthday and will never get older!"

"Get up, you. Birthday or not, you still have a job to go to, a daughter to escort to school, and a half-dozen students to greet when they finally show up." She yanked the covers down and Marcie giggled at his exaggerated frown and pout; Leila rolled her eyes and snorted. "You silly man! Breakfast will be waiting when you return from the privy run."

"Fine, I suppose that I do need to attend to my bodily functions," he grumbled. His pair of forest green boxer shorts was revealed when he sat up and swiveled his feet over the edge of the right side of the bed. A pair of pink bunny slippers was there instead of his usual blue ones. "Whoever did this should not be proud of herself." His martyred expression got smiles on both of their faces, smiles that he always wanted to see. "I think it's cool enough for me to need my bathrobe. I hope that it hasn't been swapped too." This hope was dashed when he opened the closet door and saw the matching pink bathrobe with fluffy white fake fur trim. "On second thought, I will be manly and go out in my shorts."

"Nope!" said Marcie, grabbing the robe from its hangar and handing it to her Mama, who was blocking the doorway. She put the garment on her grumbling husband and gave him a kiss that would have woken the dead to soften the blow to his manliness. Marcie basked in the glow of their love as they hustled him to the kitchen door. "You look pretty in pink, Papa!" He stuck out his tongue at both of them as he stepped outside and made haste for the privy. It was a lovely morning, crisp and fresh but not too chilly, something that he couldn't appreciate until after his bladder had been emptied.

He hadn't walked three steps out the privy door before he heard a wolf whistle from next door. It was their neighbours to the north, Myra and Ben Chandler, who were standing on something so that they could look over the six-and-a half-foot wood fence. They'd increased its height during the summer because they'd started hosting sex parties. Their parties were popular because a good portion of their yard was within the outer range of Harold and Leila's orgasm waves, which was still enough to get them going. The two Mages were also very reliable sources of orgasm waves.

"Looking good, Healer Harold!" said Ben with a grin. "Happy birthday!" Harold rolled his eyes and, sensing that he was being watched from the kitchen window, decided on a little revenge.

"I am not Harold, I am Leila!" he replied in a patently fake falsetto, putting his hands on his hips and strutting around. "I am outside testing my new fluffy bathrobe and bunny slippers to see how warm they will keep me." They were snickering at his performance. "I have no chest right now because I haven't put on my inflatable bra yet." The kitchen door opened suddenly and Leila stood in the doorway, hands on her hips.

"Get in here, you!" The Chandlers were laughing too hard to remain on whatever it was they were standing on and their heads disappeared abruptly.

"I think that I will go downtown and parade around in my new bunny slippers and bathrobe," said Harold, still in the falsetto, taking mincing steps toward the side gate that led to the small gravel driveway and Willow Street. "People need to see how pretty I am!" Leila could move very quickly when she wanted to and caught him easily.

"Hmm, are we a little turned on by my costume?" he wheezed in her ear from the bone-creaking embrace. She unsubtly ground her crotch against his leg and he could feel the heat coming from her, as well as her hard nipples pressing into his chest.

"More than I should be," she muttered. "Get in the house and have your breakfast."

"Yes, dear," he replied meekly as he was hustled toward the door. "Hang on a second," he said, a wicked glint in his eyes, which were an odd shade of blue with hints of green that made people think of the ocean on a sunny day. He propelled her toward the corner of the house away from the window where Marcie's prying eyes could see. "I want to give the neighbours a little present from the birthday boy," he said for the Chandlers' benefit. He began the all-too-familiar sequence of moves on her almost D-sized breasts, without going under her nightie in case someone was watching, that would provoke an orgasm.

"You nasty man," she moaned. Seeing him in the bathrobe had gotten her hot, and she didn't know why, and his expert squeezes and strokes had her stampeding toward an orgasm in less than a minute. She had to bite her arm to muffle her scream when she came and the lower part of the front of her nightie suddenly became wet. "Damn you, now I have to go to the privy!" She staggered off to said building to Clean herself.

"Was that what I think it was?" Myra asked in a dreamy voice. "I usually don't get hot flashes in the morning. The neighbours only sometimes fuck in the morning."

"That felt like Leila," Ben replied rather fuzzily. "I'm not ready for sex this morning."

"That wet spot at the tip of your pajama tent says otherwise." The purr in her voice was clearly audible to Harold. There was a quick swish of fabric as the pajama tent was removed, followed by a stifled moan from him as she gobbled his cock in her mouth. She didn't care if there was a listener on the other side of the fence; if anything, it made her hotter. "You know what to do with this." There was more fabric rustling as she lifted her nightie, exposing the silver curls of her bush that he'd gotten to know very well after Moser had finally come to stay for good, laid herself on the grass and opened her legs. Mere seconds later, Ben's cock had been stuffed inside in one thrust, making them both moan. Six inches wasn't the longest cock in the world, but it was long and large enough for her, especially when he'd adjusted himself so that his thrusts were rubbing against her clitoris.

"Damn you, Moser, you asshole!" Myra grunted and moaned from the other side of the fence. "Harder! Faster! Now I'll be ruined for the rest of the day!" Her orgasm was coming faster than an out-of-control freight wagon and she felt Ben's cock pulsing as she squeezed it harder and harder until it began squirting and filling her up with its hot load.

"It's a good thing that you're retired, isn't it?" he called back. Conscious that Little Miss Deer Ears was no doubt hearing everything, he refrained from a further explicit suggestion and returned to the kitchen just as Leila emerged from the privy. Marcie had turned eleven in June and had some time before puberty started, at which time he and Leila would have to curtail their lecherous activities, which would be difficult and annoying. "I'm going to put on my proper clothing now," he addressed Marcie, whose innocent look was a near duplicate of his and no more convincing. He went down the hall and into the spare bedroom where he had his clothes it its closet and dresser because Leila didn't want to move the desk and chair that were a feature of her room.

"The Chandlers saw Papa," she told her Mama when she came in, looking rather distracted. "Was Papa teasing you when he was pretending to be you?"

"Oh, he certainly was," she replied, rolling her eyes as she checked the state of the two large frypans and one medium-sized one on the stove that had been heating while they were indulging in birthday antics. The very necessary coffee pot was on the fourth corner. "Great job on the pancake batter, as usual, Marcie!" Her daughter glowed with the praise, while keeping her distance from the stove as Leila placed four dollops of batter into each large frypan. She used a set of tongs to drop three sausages into the smaller pan. "We'll have you working at the Dewdrop Inn in no time!" Marcie wrinkled her nose as her Papa emerged into the hallway, dressed for the day in his work clothes, which were a dusty brown long-sleeved buttoned shirt and an equally brown pair of heavy-duty pants, both made from sturdy hemp fabric, and in his usual slippers which he'd obviously found.

"I'd rather work at Macy's. The Dewdrop Inn is too fancy. They won't even make hamburgers!"

"It's good, basic fare that doesn't lighten the pockets as badly as the Dewdrop Inn does," Harold added as he entered the kitchen. Like all houses in town, even the fancy ones, it was the largest room in the house and its focal point. "The cats have been given their kibble, right?" They were twining around his ankles, meowing and staring up at him with big sad eyes, trying to convince him that they were starving to death when they clearly weren't.

"Yes, Papa. They gobbled it all down," Marcie replied, hands on her hips. "Maybe they really are furry piglets." Both of her parents said it frequently enough that it had stuck. "Do you want me to give them their second serving now?"

"Please do. That will buy us some peace. It makes them think that they've outsmarted us."

"You are a twisted man, Harold Moser," Leila said, waving her pancake flipper at him as Marcie doled out the second portions of kibble and the cats proceeded to devour it. Their dishes were on the floor in the far-right corner of the room and the kibble was in a cupboard just above them.

"Mmm, pancakes always taste better on birthdays. So does sausage." Leila's hot stare told him that she knew damn well what sort of sausage he was hinting at. "The best birthday present of all would be getting excused from Daughter Drop-off Duty," he wheedled. The daughter crossed her arms and shook her head gleefully and he pouted. "Don't they give you the first Friday of September off?"

"Nope! All school all the time until the Equinox Holiday!" The twenty-first was a Sunday this year, so the school holiday would be on the following Monday and he idly wondered what they should do at the Magic School to mark the occasion. Milk was extracted from the icebox by Marcie and poured carefully into their glasses, while Harold deftly lifted the coffee pot from the stove, poured hot water into his and Leila's mugs, and added the much-needed coffee powder that would help them get through the first part of the morning. Harold also grabbed the maple syrup from one of the cupboards and put it on the table while Marcie distributed plates and cutlery in a well-rehearsed sequence. Pancakes and sausage were put on plates and they all sat down to breakfast.

"We shall celebrate this birthday breakfast by eating like civilized people and not like our cats," said Leila with a baleful stare at the other two, who wouldn't meet her gaze. "There is lots of time before you have to go to school."

"To the health of the Goddess," Harold proposed, raising his milk glass. Marcie and Leila repeated it, they clinked their glasses together, drank some milk, and so started breakfast.

"Math is my first subject today," said Marcie in response to her Mama's question. "We're learning about 'irrational numbers'," she said carefully.

"I've always found it strange that you have to square an irrational number to get an integer," Harold mused as he consumed a chunk of pancake. "Mmm, delicious." Leila grunted noncommittally.

"Math was not my favourite subject. I did what I had to and no more," she grumbled. "Unfortunately, Magic Theory has a lot of math and physics in it, and it really is necessary to get a full understanding of what we do and why it works."

"And after all the years it's been studied, the theorists are sure that we've only scratched the surface. They're still looking for the big breakthrough, and I have no doubt that some of them have wound up in padded rooms for various periods of time," Harold added dryly. "I think that I liked it more than your Mama did, and I think that I still remember a good chunk of it, but I also learned only what was necessary. So, pay attention, because you're just getting started." Marcie made a face. "It might help to know that two plus two equals five, for large values of two," he added mischievously, earning a dirty look.

"Your students will be coming today," said Leila, changing the subject. "Today is the last day before you become Professor Moser."

"The ultimate birthday present from the Magic School," he sighed, not letting this get in the way of snarfing down a piece of sausage and a taking a swig from his coffee mug. "I took a tour of the building yesterday and everything is ready. Danica Gillis will make a good office administrator. She's already settled in to her office, organized files, stocked the kitchen, the library, the classroom and the laboratory, and even has the barn all set up and ready for its occupants. I noticed that it already has a pair of owls in the rafters and at least one cat in residence. We definitely need her. Thanks for helping to recruit her."

"All I did was mention it to Nellie and Myrtle," Leila replied modestly, taking a drink of milk to try to hide her shifty expression. Nellie Nix and Myrtle Stanfield ran the Magwitch Therapeutic Massage Clinic. Harold had referred to them on a few occasions as "the most reputable disreputable women in Magwitch," not entirely without reason, as they were more than happy to provide 'happy endings' to their massages. They actually were therapeutic, as the two were just as skillful as the Mages. As such, they were also very well-connected to the gossip channels.

He had deduced that Leila had demonstrated his technique of breast massage-induced orgasms to them and that they had been using them on their clinics' patrons, though direct questions only got masterful evasions. Danica had recently lost her job as the office administrator of a small contracting firm on whose owner she had blown the whistle when she'd noticed irregularities in the finances caused by his embezzling. This had caused a major scandal in the town and many had watched in silence as he'd been hauled off to Havisham in a prison wagon. Danica was one of their patrons and Nellie had made the connection between need and supply. Harold had not been difficult to convince during the interview that had been held in their backyard while drinking some tea made from herbs from their garden.

"Why is my plate empty?" Marcie asked plaintively. All three of them looked at the sad, empty wastelands of their breakfast plates, mugs, and glasses. Perhaps too dramatically, she lifted the front of her plate to see if any crumbs had somehow worked their way under it. "Yummy food disappears so fast."

"An infinite dinner plate would just make us all enormously fat," Harold sighed, then burped contentedly. "You should get ready for school and your first day walking there all by yourself."

"Nice try, Harold," Leila sighed, rolling her eyes as they placed their dishes in the sink. This time, Harold had the dubious honour of hitting them with the oh-so-useful Clean spell; the loud clattering always made them jump. It also made the cats tear off down the hallway. As an afterthought, he applied Oral Clean spells that elicited squawks and coughs from all three of them. It was a very effective spell, but it felt like someone was running bristly brushes in their mouths.

"Hmm, I'm dressed and ready to go to work, and Marcie won't want to go to school in her nightie, so I think I'll leave now and mmph!" Leila had caught him in an embrace from which escape was unthinkable. The sizzling kiss that she gave him and he returned only made it more so as Marcie ran off to her bedroom to hastily change and get her books together.

"If we had time, I'd take you to the bedroom to give you your present," Leila growled, looking into his eyes as they stood nose-to-nose. "A present that would leave you ruined and snoring in the bed."

"And you right beside me," he replied, his lips just brushing hers. "I know what you like and how you like it." The sound of their daughter clearing her throat was all that kept them from going at it then and there and they turned to look at her, patently guilty expressions on their faces. It is really good that Mama and Papa loved each other so much, she thought as he put on his shoes, leaving his walking boots on the tray. He grabbed his dust-brown hat with its red hatband from the coat rack that was to the right of the kitchen door, ignoring his jacket because it was going to be one of those early Fall days that start off cool but quickly warm up to a lovely afternoon. She wasn't sure if they could love each other a little too much, but it was certainly better than the alternative.

"Bye, Mama! See you at lunch time!" she said, giving her Mama the usual hug as Papa took his staff from where it was leaning in the corner behind the coat rack. She took her white hat from Papa and put it on over her auburn hair that had a slight curl to it and had been tied back with a bow. He gallantly held the door open for her, then made to close it.

"Out, you!" Mama ordered, well-versed to his tricks; this one was tried nearly every day like a ritual. He gave her a chaste peck on the cheek and emerged into the sunshine.

"Oh, Papa," Marcie sighed as they walked down the path toward the gate to Willow Street. "You do that every day."

"If I didn't, you'd think that something was wrong with me," he replied, not meeting her gaze. "Oh, what's this?" On the lawn close to the street was a large sign that was facing toward the corner. He walked around until he could see what it said. "Happy Birthday, Healer Harold, from the little stinkers," he read out loud. The sign was decorated with six cartoon skunks in various poses. "Whoever drew these skunks did a really good job," he said with a delighted smile. "Please be sure to tell the artist that I approve of his or her work. Even the lettering is well done. It warms my heart to know that some people devoted their time and talent to do this for me." This was truth disguised as irony. "I will keep it."

"I will, Papa. One or two of my friends may have been involved in making that sign. They will get a good scolding!" Harold doubted the sincerity of that remark.

"I hope that those responsible will make one for your Mama when the time comes. You wouldn't want her to feel left out, would you?" She sighed and shook her head.

"No, Papa. Mama deserves a birthday sign too." Four months later, on January 5th, a sign did appear on the snow on their lawn, though it had happy birds and pretty flowers instead of skunks. She had seen it from the window of the exam room when she'd opened the curtains and had had to dress up and go outside to look at it. Marcie had readily confessed when she'd come home for lunch, getting a big hug.

"It was Papa's idea. He didn't want you to feel bad for not getting a sign after he got one," she'd said innocently. Harold had come home early, having told the students at the School why and getting their support and best wishes, including a card, with ingredients for a shepherd's pie, which he knew she liked.