[Writing Prompt] A magician named Geppetto attempts to create a golem. It goes horribly wrong.

"There he goes again. Geppetto is pushing another shopping cart full of rocks up to that old barn" Marge yelled peeking through the blinds. "What in the Sam hell is he doing up there? George, get over here and look at this!"

"Will you sit down you ol' kook! Always watching the neighbors like it's your job" he said.

"Oh, shut up. I aint got nothin' better to do besides killing time til I can collect your life insurance policy" she turned with deadpan look.

"It's a toss up which one of us is the turtle and the hare in that race. Maybe he's up there turnin those rocks into gold so he can afford to get away from your prying eyes Big Brother" he said, poking his nose over the top of the newspaper. "You know he hasn't practiced any magic since Pinocchio got termites and passed."

"Something aint right with that man. Hundreds of years old, with no wife, and creating little wooden boys with boners on their faces. I don't like it one bit" she scolded.

"Don't you have correspondence with your loony toon sisters to catch up on or something? George murmured under his breath.

"Hey... What's that glow... George, the whole thing's a shakin'! Shit, Daisy's outside!" she said scrambling to get to her prize Yorkie.

The windows on the house rattled and a large crash knocked picture frames off the walls. George tripped over his recliner scrambling to get a look outside. Marge, frozen, tiny dog in her arms, was completely captivated by the large Frankenstein of stone and lumber stomping towards her.

Through a hazy swirl of dust, Geppetto stumbled out of the gaping hole in the side of the building. Shaking debris out of his long white beard his raspy voice barely got out a "Stoooop! Get back here!"

Mouth agape, George watched as the monster flicked aside the 12 foot tall windmill in their backyard, stepped over the clothesline full of Muumuu's, and focused on Marge and the 4lbs of screeching fur in her arms. In one motion, his large limbs raised above his head, blocking out the sunlight and came down smashing all 5 feet 2 inches of the woman, planting her into a round pile like a hammer to nail in soft pine. A few steps later, out of the yard and chasing the ice cream truck down the street. George stepped out on the back deck to survey the scene.

"I'm so sorry George. I had no idea." Geppetto apologized, "I thought I just gave it a pinch of my deepest, darkest desires. I have to get to the Wilson's and warn their Ricky before it's too late. That little bastard has been throwing my newspaper in the bushes for years."

Still unsure what to make of what just happened, George shuffled back inside to the refrigerator. Pulling out a can, and cracking the beer open his eyebrows raised as he mused, "huh, I guess she was the turtle."