Beer Me, Potter

The time is Daigon Alley, Potter land in Universal Orlando, Florida. I just spent some cheddar on a pint cup of the wizard’s finest brew. Isabella picked her wand at the wand store and wanted to put it to the ultimate test. I drained my wizardly suds and held the empty, helpless, lifeless plastic pint glass in the massive grip of my calloused hand. A spell must be abound to refill this pint plastic cup. Refill it, indeed, with more of the finest beer in the Alley. I mean, there are magicians and spell makers throughout this conjoured land. Who can make this cup full again? So, I turn to my love, my daughter and with a glimmer of hope in my eye and the insatiable desire to produce magic from her $60 wand, she waved it over my cup. Nothing. Nothing fell from the heavens, no goblins or sorcerers peered from the bottom of the cup, no one helped me in the quest. But, I found another $10 from deep inside my pocket, from the place where the lint hides. I and Alexander Hamilton were able to help myself to another. And I had the notion to tell Isabella that her wand doesn’t work. My Father, Lord of the Beer, laughed strikingly at my misfortune. He, too, fell victim years ago. There is no free beer or magical vat of brew that can reappear after it is drained through the liver. The urinals hold no beer. Once it’s gone, it gone.

The Toilet Wizard pointed the way to the Restroom.