Zizekyouth creates the new Harry Potter
“Circular spectacles creating Hypnotic Mickey Mouse cute face with superhero lightning highlight. Shaggy Beatle mop.
“Accelerated maturity via the Gnostic figure with his male and female avatars by his sides, eventually fusing in alchemycal marriage.
“His enemy is sexuality: the slit faced phantasm that first enters your awareness as the rash on your teacher’s bodies.
“The promise that it does all end at the climax of the teenage years. The gentle comfort of eventual suicide. Just 7 years to go!
“Denied of course in a bitter betrayal after she – the real YouKnowWho – has all your money. Trapped in the end by a happy middle age with tea and biscuits and cold creamy ‘butterbeer’.
“That’s the secret.”
We all sat around and looked at our consultant, a bald-headed Scottish magician. There was a comfortable silence in Zizek Towers. We are very comfortable people with the insanity behind us now.
“So,” I said “That’s how we create the new Harry Potter.”
“Does it have to called…like…Ian Cuthbert and the Widget of Wodget?” asked Mox
“With glitter on the cover?” proposed Zasulich, lifting his coffee cup like a shield (unknowingly, I think)
“NO!” yelled the Scottish magician, “That’s the fool’s game. The surface game. In Africa the first Harry Potter book is called ‘Hshame Wulukutu,’ this means ‘Your Harmless God.’ In the Czech translation it is ‘Wednesday Adventure’ with reference to an old tradition that Wednesday is the day when magic and normality meet. The name is unimportant.”
Django reached for the bagel that wasn’t there. With her hand in a box of crumbs that labeled her as greedy and slow, we all took pictures in our mind to use against her later.
This meeting was dragging. The ocean off on the horizon started to look small compared to yawns we were incubating.
“OK, I think we get it Mr. M____________” said Stavrogin. “Name: Unimportant so I propose we call it ‘Stun Monkey.’ Need to create a – like – symbolic teenage journey with death and sex. But cute. With magic.”
“No. Not magic with wands and potions. You only get one stab at that. Only one lucky dolt gets to run around town with his cock out before they pass a law against it. You need to create a new disguise for magic. Magic itself has been robbed of its magic by this…woman.”
Lucia swiveled on her chair. The chair had been microtuned to her body by a thousand knob twiddles and no-one ever must ever touch it. She had painted it red to remind us. But one time, when she was on that press junket in Labrador we tried it. I went first. It was an iron maiden of microagony. It was like trying on someone else’s fetish suit.
No one else tried.
“So we have to make a new magic? Then the rest falls into place.”
“Exactly,” said M. in his most seductive voice, poising his head on his hands like a precious Fabergé with gem encrusted arched eyebrows.
His most sexy gaze sat in a vacuum as our brains bubbled. We needed to get that new Harry Potter out on the market. With our crack writing team, we had the… dare I say it…the wizards to do this. We just needed our magic.
Barry the intern came in with Starbucks for all.
“Barry,” I said “What is the new magic? What is power?”
Barry paused for a second.
“Words,” he said, “Words that get in your head and make you do stuff.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Someone said that to me last week. Then I can’t stop thinking about it. I have invented how to do it. Just to fill the gap of the word.”
We looked around to M. but he was gone like a taxi driver.
We had a lot of work to do. But it was time to get rich.