Needling…what will these mortals think of next? I admire it, in a way. Our whole office is being sent to a dry needling course as part of some initiative to make everyone cooperate a little bit better. I managed to get out of it by secretly casting an enchantment upon the secretary, Naomi, to make her forget that I exist even when looking at me or my name on a form, so I haven’t been signed up for the course.
I have nothing against dry needling, or any of the dry needling courses held in Melbourne. No, my main problem is with the rest of the staff, who are terrible people who I wish to spend little time with outside of work hours. Do you know how many times I’ve yearned to cast a spell turning them all into wombats? The only thing stopping me would be the fact that if somehow one of them escaped, or was ill on that day, they’d know it was me and I’d be outed from my position as secret wizard. I’ve almost blown it several times now, especially that one time when I tried a very small immolation spell to heat up my oatmeal and it got out of control. I managed to convince everyone that the green fire consuming the kitchen was a result of an unusual mix of gas and that curry in the fridge that no one has claimed for months. Close call.
Anyway, this world’s dry needling courses are their way of doing things. If we wanted to get rid of aches and pains in my world, or sporting injuries as they say, we’d just grind up some toads, mix in their skin with a cauldron of bat-wing brother and have the person bathe in it while there’s a perfect crescent moon. For seven days and nights. And that usually worked.
Trigger point dry needling courses are just an alternate method, and certainly the best this world has to offer. But not for me, specifically. Everyone at the office can go along as learn something, for once. Meanwhile, I need to lift that spell on Naomi is I want to get back onto the muffin roster…