The Shaman

Clarence asked the local shaman for a love potion. The shaman shook his fist at Clarence like he shook his fist at all the kids who asked for love potions. Clarence pleaded and pleaded and wished for a world where men wept openly and babies could suckle on their mother's breast in public without shame. Clarence put a hand to the bruise on his arm, rubbing it without thinking. Clarence would not leave the shaman's door, and the shaman sighed and asked what he asked of all the kids who asked for love potions.
“Why do you want the potion teta? If the girl is truly worth the price of the potion, she does not deserve to be manipulated so. Come here and let me help you with those bruises teta. Is this her doing?”
The Shaman did not expect the answer Clarence gave. It was not at all like all of the kids who asked for love potions. They spoke of their hearts bleeding. The shaman had no sympathy for blood stained carpets. They spoke of need. The shaman had no patience for the pigheadedness of youth. Clarence spoke in short sad syllables, and the shaman's own heart was close to dripping crimson.
“Papa doesn't love me anymore.”
The shaman who had a solution to every problem, a potion a brew or a tincture, fell silent at the boy's words.
The shaman finally spoke. “Come here child” his words echoed through the sparsely decorated sad excuse of an apartment. The shaman took down one of his scrolls, some herbs, a mortar and pestle. The boy watched in silent awe as words were said, hands were waved, and finally an eruption of fire encircled the creation borne of will and what might have otherwise made an excellent pizza sauce. The shaman collected the mixture in a glass vial, and instructed the boy to spread it throughout his father's meal that evening. The boy did as he was told, and the next day his father dropped dead while chopping down the trees he had chopped every day since before anyone could remember. The boy ran frantically back to the shaman, shouting, inconsolable. The shaman truly had nothing to say, nor did he feel remorse.