The Alchemist's Wedding Gift

Two weeks after their wedding, freshly returned from a Caribbean honeymoon, the bride and the groom sat on the couch in their living room. They stared at the strange box on the coffee table–it appeared, somehow, to be throbbing–and nervously awaited an explanation from the alchemist, who paced the room, muttering to himself.

“So…” said the bride.

This snapped the alchemist from his thoughts. “Yes, yes! Right!” He stopped walking and stepped forward, positioning himself directly behind the box. “I must apologize again. While deep within my lab, constructing this gift to celebrate your matrimony, I lost track of the time and missed the entirety of the ceremony.”

“It’s really no problem,” said the groom.

“No, I doubt it will be,” the alchemist said, “when you see it. So, without further ado, behold! Your marriage prize! A wallet… that brings things BACK TO LIFE!”

The alchemist opened the lid of the box and removed a strange pouch. The bride and groom covered their noses and mouths with their hands.

“What is that smell?” the bride exclaimed.

The alchemist chuckled. “It’s nothing to worry about at all! Merely the odor released during the various excretions from it’s many interior regenerative wombs!”

“regenerative wombs?!” The groom cried.

“Let me show you how it works!” the alchemist reached into his coat pocket and brought out a dead toad.

“Gross!” said the bride.

“Why do you have that?!” said the groom.

The alchemist ignored them. “You simply drop it into the wallet’s opening,” he said, doing just that, “and await the puff of exhaust.”

The Alchemist placed the pouch down on the table. After a moment, it belched out a green-gray cloud and the smell grew stronger. After another moment, a fully reanimated toad emerged from within. The bride and groom watched with horror as it crawled slowly to the center of the coffee table and stood, improbably, on its hind legs and, even more improbably, cleared its throat.

“My name,” the toad said, its voice a hoarse whisper, “is Corrlyn. I shall now recount to you the circumstances which led to my demise, as well as the Hell that is the so-called gift of life after death…”

“I do apologize,” the alchemist said. “This monologuing bit is the only bug I couldn’t work out.”

“We don’t want this,” said the groom.

“I understand it may be a bit dour, but I promise: give him a minute. He’s a very talented storyteller.”

“No, we mean this.” The bride pointed at the wallet, careful not to touch it.

The alchemist looked at them, confused. “But it was on your registry.”

“I wanted wallet that could charge my phone, not bring toads back to life,” the bride said. “Something attractive and elegant with a power bank inside. Like a Nanette Lepore Charging Wallet.”

“I understand,” the alchemist said.

“You do?” the groom said.

“Yes,” the alchemist said. “It must be bigger! So that it can fit the entire leopard! I must make haste back to the lab!”

“Lepore! Not leopard!” the bride called after him, but it was too late. The door was already closing behind him.

“I can’t believe that guy’s your uncle,” said the groom.

“Wait, I thought he was your uncle,” said the bride.

“It was a day much like any other,” Corrlyn said. “I was admiring the pine needles coating the forest floor, when, overhead, I heard the loud caw of the monster known only as Hawk…”