Merlin meets ISO9000

	Or does he?

	Merlin squinted with his aged eyes, straining to see 
the liquid in the glass flask sitting on the table.  The 
amber liquid was slowly turning green as he carefully added 
a powder with his fingers.
	The door to his room burst open with a crash, and 
Merlin startled, dropping the remaining powder into the 
flask all at once.  Merlin watched in dismay as the liquid 
emitted a quick green flash of light and quickly turned 
black.
	Fuming, the aging wizard spun around, clutching his 
blue-gold robes to see who had dared to enter his abode so 
rudely.
	Standing in the doorway was a young man in his mid 30s.  
He was smartly dressed in a late 20th Century American 
Pinstripe suit, and carrying a leather briefcase with his 
initials set in bronze into the lid.
	"Are you Merlin?" the man asked, staring quizically at 
the wizard's incredibly long beard.
	Merlin slowly eased away from his table, straining to 
control his temper.
	"Son, you just ruined a year's worth of work." He 
began.  "So for your sake, you'd better not be here trying 
to sell me magazines."
	"My name is Morris." The man announced, handing Merlin 
a business card. "Morris Morroni."
	Merlin pointedly refused to take the man's card, and 
crossed his arms.
	"Do you have any idea how hard it is to get Virgin's 
tears these days?" he complained.  "I don't know when I'm 
going to have the chance to work on that spell again, thanks 
to your bursting in."
	Morris whipped the card back into his front pocket as 
if he'd done it a hundred times before. 
	"Well Merlin, if you were working on such delicate 
stuff, you shoulda put a sign on your door, or called my 
office to reschedule our appointment for another time."
	"First of all, I never have visitors.  Second of all, I 
don't recall scheduling any appointment with you or anyone 
else in the first place!"
	Morris stepped into the room and closed the door behind 
him.
	"Details, details.  It probably just slipped your mind.  
Not important."
	"And for that matter," Merlin fumed as his uninvited 
guest crossed the room.  "Just WHO the devil ARE you?"
	"Like I told ya, I'm Morris Morroni.  I'm gonna to be 
your ISO9000 inspector."
	Merlin blinked as if the man had just spoken to him in 
a foreign language.
	"And what," he asked.  "Is an ISO9000?  And why does 
mine need inspecting?  If I have one, it's never needed an 
inspection before."
	Morris sat down in a chair beside Merlin's workbench.
	"ISO9000 is the way of the future."
	"Sorry.  I don't buy anything from door-to-door 
salesmen."
	Morris snorted derisively.
	"I'm not pandering vacuum cleaners or encyclopedias.  
I'm here to inspect your operation, and make certain you are 
in compliance with our regulations."
	"You," Merlin said, straining to keep his growing anger 
under control.  "Are here to inspect me?  Me, the great 
Merlin?  The sorcerer who has been in the magic business for 
almost 800 years?"
	"Yeah, yeah." Morris grumbled as he fumbled with the 
papers in his briefcase.  "It's always the old, established 
businesses that are the hardest to convince about the 
benefits of good procedural documentation.  You don't record 
near as much detail as you should." 
	Merlin glowered at the man, but maintained his control.
	"Thank you for pointing out my poor notetaking skills.  
Now, I'm sure you know the way out.  If you'd be so kind as 
to let the door hit your rump as you leave..."
	"Oh, but this isn't a courtesy call." Morris 
proclaimed.  "You don't have a choice in the matter.  
Everybody who wants to stay in business these days has to 
meet ISO9000 requirements, or else."
	Merlin blinked in astonishment!
	"Or... else?  Are you threatening me, you insolent 
little nit?"
	"It's not a threat sir.  There's no need to threaten 
anyone.  See, the way it works is, every business that's 
ISO9000 certified must only do business with other certified 
businesses.  Or they'll lose their certification."
	"Oh!  I get it." Merlin explained.  "It's an extortion 
racket.  Well now.  That, at least, I can understand."  He 
sat down at the other side of the worktable as Morris put 
some papers there and closed his case.
	"Okay.  First of all, what kind of business are you 
running here?"
	"Magic."
	"Gotcha." Morris marked a block on the first page of 
his forms.  "Magic and novelty shop."
	"No." Merlin interrupted, holding up his hand.  Morris 
stopped writing and looked up, puzzled.
	"What do you mean, no?" he asked.
	"You think I sell toys and parlor tricks to amuse the 
masses.  I don't.  I work real magic.  I'm an advisor to 
kings, a messenger to spirits, and a confidant to dragons 
and unicorns."  He leaned closer over the table, dragging 
his white beard along the surface.  "Do you understand 
better now?"
	Morris let out a frustrated huff, and bent down to 
erase his previous work.
	"Fine.  New Age store it is.  Now then.  Show me the 
written procedures for your work."
	Merlin leaned back again, a blank look on his face.
	"My... procedures?"
	"Yeah.  You know.  You have to have a step by step set 
of instructions on how to do everything before you can be 
certified."
	"No, I didn't know that."
	"Don't tell me you do your job from memory!"
	"What's wrong with relying on one's own memory, might I 
ask?"
	"Oh, nothing!" Morris said, flinging his arms out in 
irritation.  "That is, till you get hit by a bus!  What'll 
happen if you get hurt or hospitalized, and can't work no 
more?"
	"What," Merlin asked.  "Is a bus?"
	Morris slapped both hands on the table and leaned 
forward.  "You can't do that.  You gotta have written 
documentation on everything that you do so anybody else can 
do your job when you're gone."
	Merlin stroked his beard as he watched the angry young 
man across the table.
	"Did Morgana send you?" he asked, bemused.  "It sounds 
like you want to get all my spells written out."
	"Exactly."
	"So you can steal them."
	"Wrong."
	"Well, if not you, somebody else then."
	Morris hung his head for a couple of seconds before 
lifting it and trying once again.
	"Look.  I've heard this all before.  I've been in this 
business for over half a decade you know."
	"And I've been in mine for over half a millenium." 
Merlin snickered.  "I'm not interested in letting my secrets 
out so easily."
	"You're worrying over nothing.  Your secrets will still 
be safe, if you keep all the paperwork out of the wrong 
hands."
	"It would seem safer, not to have them on any paperwork 
to begin with."
	Morris emphatically shook his head. 
	"But you can't do that!" he cried.
	"So YOU say." Merlin replied.  "But I do have a 
spellbook that I use from time to time.  It isn't complete, 
but will that do for now?"
	Morris nodded. 
	"Yeah." he said, determined to get underway somehow.  
"Sure, that'll do for starters."
	Merlin slowly stood up again, turned around, and walked 
over to the large bookshelf against the far wall.  As he 
looked around the various crystal balls and blobs of wax 
from candles long since expired, he called across the room.
	"Incidently sir, it just occurred to me.  Are you, 
yourself, ISO9000 certified?"
	"Huh?" Morris responded with a start.  "Me?"
	"Yes, you." Merlin said, pulling out a thick 
leatherbound tome.  "You are doing a job.  I presume you 
have the documents spelling out how you do it."
	"Course not.  Every situation I encounter is unique.  
Besides, I'm only the inspector; I don't need to be 
certified myself."
	"How interesting." Merlin muttered as he returned with 
the spellbook and set it down on the table.  He opened it 
up, and leafed through the pages for a few seconds before 
selecting a certain page.
	"This," he said, turning the book around so Morris 
could see. "Is one of my spells."
	Morris stared at the page, and its incomprehensible 
writing.  Geometric figures and lines were scrawled in red 
within the margins, while the writing itself seemed to be 
comprised of a series of cirles and dots with the occasional 
slashed line thrown in for good measure.
	"I can't read a word of it." Morris grumbled.
	"That's because it is written in the language of 
magic." Merlin explained.
	Morris brightened.  "Ah, I get it.  It's a technical 
language!" He studied the book a little more closely.  "That 
explains why I can't make heads or tails out of this.  I 
have the same problem working with electronics types.  Can 
you show me how it works, and what the sections are so I can 
tell you whether or not they meet ISO requirements?"
	Merlin smiled with a toothy grin.
	"I'd be delighted.  These words here at the top 
describe the components you need for the spell."  He pointed 
to a section at the top of the page while Morris made notes 
on his papers.  "As you can see, this particular spell 
requires none."
	"Yes, yes.  Go on."
	"The geometric symbols in the margins tell how to 
visualize the energies around oneself, while the text 
describes the hand gestures needed.  Like this."  Merlin 
then waved his hands in front of Morris's face in an 
intricate weave of movement that would not seem to be 
possible for one so aged.
	"I see." Morris lied.  "And this section below it with 
the odd italics?  What is that?"
	"That is the verbal section.  The words or word that 
must be spoken at the correct time to activate the spell.  
Words like...  Scaramuchhi."
	As the words left Merlin's lips, Morris began to 
shrink.  He looked around as he fell backwards into his 
clothes, his face disappearing all too fast through the 
collar of his now loose suit.
	Merlin smiled, walked around the table, and stared at 
the fabric now sitting limp on the stool.  The legs still 
dangled, but the shirt and tie were collapsed in a heap on 
the wooden seat.
	Then, struggling with effort, a small dark-green webbed 
foot emerged from within the collar.  It clutched 
frantically for purchase, and hooking onto the top button, 
pulled the rest of its tiny body up out from the clothing.  
Where seconds ago a man sat, now sat a...
	"A frog!" the tiny amphibian cried out.  "You turned me 
into a frog!"
	"No I didn't." Merlin countered.  "I turned you into a 
toad."
	"What difference does it make?"
	"Documentation."
	"Look at me!" Morris yelled back as best as he could 
under the circumstances.  "I can't stay like this!  Change 
me back!"
	"Sorry.  I can't do that." Merlin replied, closing up 
his spellbook again.  "See, the counter spell isn't written 
down.  And to cast a spell that isn't documented would 
violate your regulations."
	"I don't give a damn about that anymore!  Change me 
back!"
	"Oh?  You mean you'd have me turn my back on all those 
wonderful things you promised, just to please you?  You mean 
to say you'd abandon all that you've worked for just to 
avoid having to eat the odd fly?"
	"Yes!" Morris cried out, climbing down onto his tie.  
"That's exactly what I mean.  I don't care what you have to 
do to turn me back into a person, but do it!"
	Merlin tsk tsked as he put the spellbook back onto the 
shelf. 
	"You know, if you had asked me to document the 
counterspell and then turn you back to normal, I just might 
have.  But when you abandon everything you insist is so 
important in less than 60 seconds..." Merlin shook his head. 
	"Look.  I'm sorry, okay?"
	"Sorry?  Sorry for what?"
	"I'm sorry you and I got off on the wrong foot like we 
did." Morris groveled.  "I didn't mean to give you such a 
hard time.  It's just my job.  Please, please don't leave me 
a frog."
	"You enjoyed every minute of it." Merlin grumbled.  "I 
could tell.  You liked being in charge of things, and 
bullying people around.  And besides, I told you once 
already.  You aren't a frog; you're a toad."
	"The differences aren't important."
	"Oh, but they are very important, if you happen to be a 
toad.  I spent the night as a toad once.  It was very 
educational, yes..."  Merlin then walked to a seat beside 
Morris, sat down upon it, and looked down severely on his 
little green visitor.
	"I'm sorry.  But you were a toady long before you ever 
came in here.  Leaving you like this just completes the 
package.  Who in the netherhells do you think you are, 
coming in like this and telling me how to do my job?  You 
should be thankful I don't feed you to the dragon, you 
impertinent little tadpole!"
	Morris shrank back, away from Merlin.
	"You... you don't really have a dragon, do you?"
	"No." Merlin said, glaring at him.  "And like I said, 
you should be thankful.  Now then; what am I going to do 
with you?"
	"You could change me back to normal." Morris asked 
hopefully.
	Merlin shook his head.  
	"No." he replied.  "No, I don't think you would learn 
anything if I turned you back straight away."  Merlin stared 
at the green creature that was Morris and stroked his beard 
thoughtfully, over and over again.
	"I've got it." He finally said, snapping his fingers.  
"You need to learn some humility and courtesy.  And I need 
an assistant around here.  So, from now on, you are going to 
be my familiar and my assistant.  I'll expect you to fetch 
me whatever compounds I need from the swamp, and to help me 
cast my spells."
	"But I don't know anything about magic." Morris weakly 
protested.
	"Too bad that didn't occur to you before you came in 
here, telling me what was what." Merlin shot back.  "And 
don't be such a worry wart.  All you have to do is sit on 
the magic book and keep the correct page flat.  After 
awhile, and after I've decided that you've learned your  
lesson, I'll change you back again and not a moment before 
then.  Got it?"
	Morris hesitated for a couple of moments before finally 
nodding.  He knew that he had no choice but to cooperate 
with Merlin, no matter what the crazy old wizard wanted.  
That is, if he ever wanted to get back to normal again.
	"Okay, Merlin." Morris mumbled defeatedly.  "You win.  
Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."
	"First," the wizard said, standing erect once more.  "I 
want you to get out of those clothes.  They are far too big 
for you.  Then, I want you to find that damned cricket in my 
bedroom and kill it.  Bloody thing has been keeping me awake 
for days.  Then I want you to fetch me three dragonflies.  
Be careful not to break the wings off, I need them whole.  
Then..."