The morning sun seemed to mock Bob as he stepped into the lunchroom, where the air buzzed with chatter and sizzling breakfast smells. He kept his head low, trying to slide in like a shadow. No luck—students glanced his way, a few giggling and whispering. He could almost feel the words sticking to his back like gum: "That's him—the guy with the... you know."

Great. His fifteen minutes of fame, and this is what he's famous for.

Eyes fixed on the floor, Bob scanned the room until he spotted Cooper, waving wildly from across the crowded hall. "Pooperus the Unstoppable!" Cooper yelled, grinning like he'd just won a prize. "Over here!"

Bob winced as heads turned in his direction. He trudged over, forcing a smile as Cooper clapped him hard on the back. "Man, that prank yesterday? LEGENDARY!" Cooper crowed, barely lowering his voice. Bob winced again—hard to miss that everyone could hear him.

Bob squeezed out a laugh, more like a wheeze. "Yeah, 'legendary' is... one word for it." He dropped onto the bench, his shoulders sinking. The whispers followed him like an echo.

Cooper didn't notice. Or if he did, he didn't care. "Seriously, Poops, the way that dummy exploded? Chef's kiss! I wish I'd thought of it!" He stood up and mimed dodging the muck, pretending to be hit in slow motion. "Splurt! Wham! Right in the face!" Cooper's over-the-top reenactment had a few students snickering, which only encouraged him.

Bob slumped over his breakfast, poking at his eggs. They jiggled slightly, and for a split second, he thought they looked like runes. He shook his head to clear the thought. "Yeah... totally intentional," he muttered, wishing he could sink through the floor. If only Cooper knew how much of a mess it really was.

"Something wrong?" Cooper asked, finally noticing Bob's mood.

"It's just... the rune studies," Bob admitted, pushing his plate away. "Merlin wants me to learn, like, a thousand runes by tomorrow. My brain's already fried. I swear, every time I try to focus, it's like my head's full of—" He stopped himself, catching the smell of something that didn't belong on a breakfast table. "Well, you know."

Ding!

P.U.M.A. cut in with its cheery voice: "Studying hard is good for the heart! And the bowels! Don't give up, User!"

Bob groaned, waving his hand as if to shoo the words away like a fly. "See what I mean? Even that thing won't shut up about studying."

Cooper leaned in close, lowering his voice like they were sharing a state secret. "Sounds like what you need is a little... boost." He looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "I know just the thing. A 'miraculous' pick-me-up. Keeps you laser-focused for hours. But..." He waggled his eyebrows. "...we gotta be real quiet about it."

Bob's eyes narrowed. "What kind of... pick-me-up?"

"Don't worry," Cooper said, smiling like a salesman. "It's perfectly... mostly... safe."

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Cooper led Bob through a series of back hallways, each one dimmer and dustier than the last, until they reached a door hidden behind the kitchens. The door was scrawled with runes that looked like they'd been scribbled on by someone who only half knew what they were doing. Cooper knocked twice, paused, then three quick taps.

The door creaked open to reveal a lanky guy with shifty eyes and hair that stuck out at odd angles. Slim Jim. Known throughout the academy for his "supplies."

"Ah, Cooper... and Pooper?" Slim Jim's grin stretched from ear to ear, like he was greeting old friends. "Never thought I'd see you two together. What brings you to my humble abode?"

"We need a little... concentration help," Cooper said, winking. "Bob here's got some serious studying to do."

Slim Jim nodded slowly, eyeing Bob up and down like he was sizing up a prize pig. "Say no more." He ducked behind a curtain and came back holding a small vial filled with a faintly glowing purple liquid. "This," he said, holding it up to the light, "will have you so focused, you'll forget your own name. But remember—small sips. Too much, and..." He let the sentence dangle with a sly smile.

Bob tried not to look too worried. "Uh, what happens if you take too much?"

"Let's just say," Slim Jim said, still grinning, "you'll be seeing double and running up walls. Or worse."

Cooper, clearly not one for hesitation, piped up, "So... how much?"

Slim Jim rubbed his fingers together. "Let's say... a couple of coins? Standard rate."

Cooper leaned in. "Hey, come on, Slim. It's Pooperus the Unstoppable here—the guy who did that in the training grounds yesterday." He elbowed Bob. "Can't you cut us a deal?"

Slim Jim's eyes widened. "Wait, you're that guy? Respect." He lowered his voice conspiratorially, "Alright, special price for you two." Bob handed over a few coins, feeling like they were made of lead, and Slim Jim pressed the vial into his hand. "Remember," he whispered, "small sips. And keep it away from Frank. That guy's got a nose for... trouble."

Bob nodded, tucking the vial carefully into his pocket.

"Good luck, Pooperus," Slim Jim called as they left, his voice dripping with amused sarcasm. "May your studies be... smooth."

Back in his room, Bob sat down, ready to conquer the mountain of rune studies piling up on his desk. He spread out the books like a wizard laying out his spell ingredients, cracked open the vial Slim Jim had given him, and sniffed cautiously. Smelled like licorice. Weird.

"Alright... just a little sip," he muttered, tipping the vial to his lips. The potion burned like fire as it went down, and for a moment, he thought he'd made a huge mistake. But then—BOOM! It hit him like a lightning bolt. His eyes widened. His brain buzzed. Every rune on the page glowed like it was on fire.

"Let's do this," he said, cracking his knuckles.

Bob's hand flew across the pages, flipping through books like he was possessed. He scribbled notes furiously, muttering the shapes of runes under his breath. Each symbol felt like a new revelation, every line and curve lighting up in his mind.

P.U.M.A. kept dinging away in the corner of his vision: "Mana Surge Detected!" and "Overflow Warning! Monitor Release!" But Bob didn't even notice. He was too busy conquering rune after rune, feeling like a rune-writing machine.

Time slipped away, swallowed by symbols and scribbles. Hours blurred together. Runes were dancing on the page, and Bob was leading the waltz. "Yes! Yes!" he whispered, scratching more notes until his hands cramped. He felt unstoppable.

What he didn't feel was the air around him growing thicker. Stinkier. It started with small bursts—sharp little farts that escaped unnoticed. But as his mana built up, so did the pressure. The short bursts turned into long, squeaky eruptions. Each one louder than the last. And with every release, the smell grew stronger, denser, and heavier.

The air inside the room turned greenish, like a fog bank made of cheese and despair. The walls seemed to groan. A potted plant in the corner wilted, its leaves curling like they were trying to escape. But Bob just kept on studying. Man, this potion is potent... I can almost smell it, he thought, taking a deep breath.