chapter 4

As the night drew on, most guests went home, leaving only the few of us who were staying the night.
Robin announced he had something very special to show us. We followed him down into the basement of the house. It was a storage area with lots of dust sheets over the items of furniture. He stood proudly in front of one object. He waited until everyone was somewhere who could see properly. Then he pulled off the dust sheet off with one strong yank.
Silence descended upon the room as we stared at the framed picture in front of us. It was a blown up full length photograph of him, but he looked very different in it than he did in the flesh. He was wearing the same suit as he was wearing. His face in the picture was chubby, with a double chin. The other thing that stood out was his stomach. It was so large and round that he could not button his jacket. The fabric between his buttons in his shirt was wrinkled and stretched to accommodate his expanded girth. The waistband on his trousers looked tight.
In the photograph, Robin was fat. How could this be? He stood there in front of us in what appeared to be fantastic shape, yet his figure in the picture bore no resemblance to him.
Robin admitted it was magic. He had been to see a local witch and made a deal. No matter what he ate or how little he exercised. His well defined musculature would not change. He would not age. He would always remain as he was now. His picture, however, would change. He could see the visible effects of his large meal on the figure in the picture. The next time we saw the picture, he would be considerably fatter.
It was a barely believable scenario. Robin explained further. He liked to impress people with his large muscles, but of late, the discipline required to keep such a body in shape was lacking. Like many ageing body builders, who wanted to stay in competitions as he grew older, he had decided to 'cheat'. The difference was, his form of cheating was perfectly legal. He would still be gathering in prize money for years to come. He would beat all of the upcoming spring chickens, without even setting foot inside a gym.
I started to think that some other trickery was involved. The picture had been photoshopped to make him look bigger. Or maybe he'd pulled a switcheroo with a twin brother. Maybe it was all an elaborate hoax, a conjurer's illusion.
After all spells and witches did not exist in this world of logic and science.

The next morning, I was sat at the breakfast table with other magazine people. The editor insisted on keeping Robin's secret quiet. Like me, he thought there had to be a logical explanation for it. We simply did not know what that explanation was yet. Perhaps the passage of time would reveal the truth. Robin could be mentally ill and in denial of it.

Just then Robin walked in. He bore no visible ill effects from last night's meal. He proceeded to pile his plate high with fried foods and tucked into it voraciously. He poured cream into his coffee and added heaped teaspoons of sugar. What was he trying to prove?