Everyone must have heard of a magic carpet at some or the other instance. Well, if you haven’t, here I am to tell you something about my glorious history. Yes, you got it right. I am a magic carpet. No, hold it, I am THE magic carpet. Well, to start with on a stereotypical note, I was invented by some worthless merchant in Persia in some long forgotten year.

Oh my god, now I am getting nostalgic. Those were the days when I used to fly like a king, or rather like the toilet seat of the king. My owner used to show me off like I was the most important thing in the world. The world was looking for faster traveling options because the increasing global warming was making travel boring. So my owner decided to give them what they want; a carpet with flying powers, that can deliver someone to the respective destination, in a matter of seconds. As is expected of any other Asian invention, I had my flaws. However, many other brainy nerds rectified those flaws in my future replicas.

Everything was going extremely fine. I was adopted by an Arabian beggar by the name of Aladdin. Many novelists replicated me in their novels. The money that people were making on my expense was enormous. But one fine day, the law of averages caught up with me. A Brit by the name of Isaac Newton invented, or rather discovered some laws of a thing he called “gravitation”. The very foundations of the science upon which I was built shook fatally. I went out of business and no one wanted to believe that a thing called magic carpet ever existed. I began appearing only in silly mythical stories rather than bustling market places. I was heartbroken beyond imagination. My girlfriend, “Flying Broomstick” broke-up with me. My life was in shambles and no person ever dared to restore me back.

You must be wondering where I am while I am writing this. You must also be wondering how am I able to write. Well, to answer your second question first, writing was an attribute that my owner added while creating me because he was too lazy to do it himself for the remainder of his life. As for the second question, I am lying in some god forsaken room in the Fenway Park Stadium in Boston, home to the Boston Red Sox.