Bob's a tad better off in that he doesn't have to work any more. Bob's dead? Is not! He's right here in the shop having a cheese sandwich and an RC-cola. How can he, or anyone for that matter, be inside an inverted bodega? Oh, I see you don't understand the basic business of The Magic . Well then, I had best explain it to you so we can get along. I always try to do that anyway, so here goes.
You probably think that you are a petty smart piece of gingerbread, right? I mean you are neither a mouse brain nor a cheese head, so you might even have a pretty solid idea about what life is all about. I bet you keep it close to your under vest too and only think about it under the spells. Am I right? The spell times, you know; Deep at night by the fire; In the false Summer dawn where stars melt in the dew; Winter's gray days when soundless snow sticks in a matrix of dead grass. In other words, the times you are least likely to be in church and more likely to be loaded. Well, if you recognize times like those as more than just time in flight, you will understand that magic is the stuff that forms the fabric of whatever life you choose to wear. It also covers practical things too, like electricity and the sound barrier. Given all that, It should not be so hard to believe that my open air news stand, bodega and recreational pharmacopia/dispensary is actually as large on the inside as it needs to be at any given time. I got the idea from Dr. Who, and they used it for years on the BBC and PBS, both highly respected magical production outfits, so I figure I'm pretty well set up for a place to hide my secret life as well as the odd dead cousin or anyone else. Alright? Good.
I'm not really sure how I come to be talking here, but in my long life I have learned not to question every little thing and also that people are often interested in hearing stories about unusual happenings and stuff. I know plenty of those because hardly any time passes around here before some amusing event comes to pass. Perhaps I'll be back