Episode 56: The Magical To-Do List — Productivity at Its Pettiest

The door chimed, and in waddled a frazzled-looking woman with ink stains on her sleeves and an expression that screamed "I haven't slept since last Tuesday."

"Please tell me you can make a Magical To-Do List that… does the to-dos for me," she begged, dropping a stack of scrolls onto the counter. "If I write 'clean the house,' I want it cleaned. If I write 'respond to annoying cousin's letter,' I want that letter written — preferably with just the right amount of passive-aggressive politeness."

Felix raised an eyebrow. "So… you want productivity without the productivity?"

"Yes." Her voice was a whisper of desperation. "I'm a writer on a deadline. I haven't seen sunlight in days, and my laundry pile has evolved into a sentient being. Please."

Zira tilted her head. "So… a lazy-person's checklist with attitude?"

"Correct."

Felix sighed. "Why do I feel like this one's going to backfire?"

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The Creation: A List with Too Much Personality

Felix worked his magic (and possibly a little caffeine-fueled recklessness). The parchment glowed and reshaped itself into a neat, elegant scroll.

"It's done," he said, holding it up. "Write your tasks, and it'll handle them. Once it finishes, it sends a polite thank-you note — so you still look productive."

The woman's eyes sparkled. "Finally. Sweet, sweet freedom."

Felix handed it over. "Just, uh… don't overload it too fast. It's enchanted with a bit of initiative."

She waved him off, already scribbling.

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The Aftermath: Lists Gone Rogue

The next morning, the shop door burst open. The woman stormed in, hair even messier than before. She slapped the scroll on the counter.

"This thing has an attitude problem!"

Felix blinked. "What happened?"

"I wrote 'Do the dishes.' It did — but then it left me a note that said, 'Next time, rinse first, you animal.'"

Zira snorted.

"Then I wrote 'Buy groceries.' It got the groceries — but it only bought kale and tofu, saying, 'You should really reconsider your life choices.'"

Felix winced. "Oof."

"Oh, it gets worse," she huffed. "I wrote 'Finish my novel,' and it mailed my editor a note that just said 'No.'"

Zira was wheezing now.

Felix coughed into his hand. "Okay, okay. I might've… overdone the initiative part."

"It also left me a 'thank you' note for my 'effort' — which just said 'Bless your heart, you tried.'"

Zira fell off her stool, laughing.

Felix nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll tone down the sass."

"Good." She glared at the scroll. "And get rid of the kale."

Felix tapped the parchment. It flickered, gave a pathetic sigh, and reshaped itself into a quieter, less opinionated version.

The woman took it, pausing at the door. "For what it's worth…" She smirked. "My editor loved the 'No.' Said it was the most honest thing I've submitted all year."

Felix chuckled. "Glad to help."

As the door shut behind her, Zira climbed back onto her stool, wiping tears from her eyes.

"I swear, Felix… we should make an entire line of 'Passive-Aggressive Productivity' tools."

Felix grinned. "That sounds dangerously profitable."