So here it is again. November. National Novel Writing Month. This time around I want to make a better showing than last year -- that is, something better than no showing at all. So I'm ditching last year's high literary aspirations and knuckling down to write a fan fic sequel to that greatest of all tales not quite told by Edgar Allen Poe, Sinbad of the Seven Seas.

(95% of RinkWorks readers will know that I'm referring to the 80's film starring Lou Ferrigno; for the remaining 5% of you, see the feature It's A Bad, Bad, Bad, Bad Movie on this very site.)

The thing is, I don't have enough ideas to write a full 50,000 word story about Sinbad's continuing adventures, so I'd like to tap into the hive mind here and see what you guys think would be amusing to see happen in a Sinbad sequel. I won't promise to use all (or even any) of your ideas, but I'd appreciate whatever input you might have.

To get you started, here's the short introductory chapter about the fate of Jaffar, penned this very morning.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"O great and terrible Lord of Darkness! I, Jaffar, your most devoted vassal, beseech you! Strike down my enemies with the infernal fury of your dark power! Let them writhe in torment before me!"

The room fell silent as Jaffar looked up at the row of wizards before him, fixing his menacing glare on each of them in turn. His gaze fell on a short, nervous-looking man with a thin fringe of hair around his chin and jaw. Slowly, Jaffar raised one arm and pointed a black-nailed finger at his chosen victim's heart. The man's eyes widened, his lower lip trembling slightly as Jaffar drew a great breath and tilted his head back at an imperious angle.

With cruel and deliberate clarity, the sorcerer pronounced his horrific curse, eyes alight as he elaborated the agonies his satanic master would inflict upon the unlucky man both in this world and the next. "And now," he concluded, his voice rising to near-hysteria, "--DIE!!!!"

The man doubled over as breath exploded from his lungs. Stumbling, he caught himself on the edge of the table in front of him and clung to it, shuddering, his face creased into ravines of compressed flesh. For a long moment his chest convulsed as he waged a silent struggle to breathe. Then, with a great hoarse gasp, the man threw back his head and broke into helpless gales of laughter.

The evil spell was having similar effects on those who had not been its intended victims. Jaffar scowled around the room at his hated adversaries as they fairly fell over one another in their mirth. Two blue-robed magi re-enacted the curse, one gesticulating wildly and shrieking "DIE!!!!" while the other clutched his chest in mock horror.

"You will pay for this insult!" Jaffar screamed, beating his fist against the glass that separated him from the other magicians. "You will all die horribly!!!" Several onlookers promptly feigned death, slumping to the floor with a variety of ghastly facial contortions. One old wizard, wiping away tears with the sleeve of his long robe, approached the table and leaned over to rest on his elbows, bringing his face within inches of the small crystalline sphere inside which Jaffar was imprisoned.

"As always, Jaffar," said the elder mage, meeting the other's tiny glare, "your ambition ranges far afield of your talents. You are no longer a threat to anyone. Your peers -- your *former* peers -- have found you guilty of every infraction from "Practise of Sorcery Moste Dark" to "Being an Unbearable Pompous Ass," and your name has already been stricken from the Society of Accredited Magicians. All that remains is to deliver notice of your punishment, upon which my colleagues and I just came to an agreement this morning over a nice smoke."

The old man paused, steepling his fingers as he cast an appraising glance at the diminutive prisoner. Jaffar waited, but his antagonist merely stood there with an infuriating half-smile lurking at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, what then?" he demanded at last. "Tell me! What are you going to do with me?"

The old wizard assumed a grave expression. "I'm afraid, Jaffar, that the enormity of your crimes left us no choice but to decide your sentence in the harshest possible terms. You will be delivered, in your present state of incarceration, into the custody of the very magician by whose arts you were brought to justice. I refer, of course, to Nad- *ahem*, to The Magnificent Nadir, who now serves in your former capacity as vizier and court magician to the Caliph. I fancy he'll find you a rather useful paperweight."

Jaffar bared his teeth in a feral snarl, clenching and unclenching his fists in impotent rage as the room full of Accredited Magicians once again bawled with laughter. One of them scooped the crystal orb into a small sack, tumbling the miniature sorcerer heels over head within its confines. He handed the sack to an armed guard, who bowed and strode from the room, his fading footsteps accompanied by a small but dramatic voice.

"O mighty Lord of Darkness! I, your most humble servant, beseech you...."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Well? Get started on those ideas already! The saga of Sinbad is like a great, ripe plum, waiting to be plucked!

Iss "Grant, that it is my hand, that plucks it!" achar