This drink here is the Elixir of the Dawn Sky. Disgusting as it looks, it supposedly grants the drinker the luck of a thousand leprechauns, spectacular charisma, and their heart's greatest desire. Also, you can fly. Because sky and all that.
All known draughts of the Elixir were brewed in ancient Tajikistan some 3000 years ago by the Great Wise Masters of the Hypercube. It is generally accepted that the luck in the Elixir comes from the vast quantities of leprechaun blood used to make it. The Wise Masters obtained this blood via trading with the molepeople, which forever scarred them as traitors in humanity's eyes. When they stole a really nice looking dawn in order to complete the drink, the rest of humanity got so pissed off they stormed up the mountain to where the Masters were camped and killed every last one they found.
One Master managed to escape with a keg of the Elixir, however it had not been brewed long enough, and its powers were weaker than the desired result. They had intended to use the Elixir to make themselves gods, ruling over humanity and maybe finding out what hypercubes actually were, but the batch produced only had the properties I stated at the start. This was obviously a huge letdown to the Master with the who escaped oh who am I kidding he spent the rest of his life flying.
Since the Master left the keg in a cave in his cult's mountain, rumours of its history have been wild. Some say it was found by Julius Caesar, some by Genghis Khan. I, for one, have never heard of any of them flying. I personally believe some unknown merchant found it on their travels and brought it home. I'd guess no one actually had a shot of it, except maybe some carpenter's kid.
Since this was exceedingly hard to track throughout history, I could well be the third person in history to taste this drink. To greatness!

PUBLISHER'S NOTE: The author is currently in hospital, though regular service should resume next week. Apparently drinking 3000 year old elixirs is bad for you. Who knew?

Sitting here on my desk is the key to Ireland. It is to be used in the event of the apocalypse to close the country after everyone is gone. It was created during the 1950s when De Valera received a report entitled "Coping Ability of the Republic of Ireland in an End of the World Event". Dev dismissed the report, as he believed that all good citizens would go to heaven, and the rest be damned. However the report fell into the hands of several TDs who knew the importance of good extinction etiquette. They were determined that when Ireland went, it would be tidy and locked up so no one could damage it before the new owners arrived. They commissioned this key to achieve these ends. When this is turned in the national lock at Mizen Head, a 3 metre high wall will extend from the ground and close Ireland off from the rest of the world.
Situated next to the national lock is the bell to summon the cleaners. When the key and all associated projects were constructed, a cleaning team was mummified and a curse placed on their tomb. When the bell is rung, they will rise from the dead and begin the process of tidying the country for any future tenants.
Since the 1950s, the key has been in the possession of the official Badass of Ireland. Only this person is considered able, when the sky falls and fire consumes the land, to make the journey to Mizen Head and lock the country behind them. This person is always a heretic and debaucherous sinner, to ensure that they are not raptured into heaven before their journey is complete. Although no Badass would ever allow the key to be stolen without terrible vengeance being wreaked upon the thieves, the current holder of the title is willing to rent it out in return for Oreos.
Okay, he's currently staring into my window. I think my time with the key is up. I shall return next week with an article about whatever the hell I think up in the meantime. Adios, and don't let monsters kill you on the train.

This simple twig is nothing of the sort. This stick was taken from the Yggdrasil itself, and I estimate its severing caused the destruction of at least three galaxies. I don't really care, I didn't know anyone in them.

First, a brief lesson on the Yggdrasil. The Vikings considered it a "World Tree", but in truth it is more of universe tree. Likely some drunken Norseman caught a glimpse of a branch and thought it was the whole thing. Anyway, contained within the tree is the entire universe, which at the same time makes up the tree, like a container containing itself. It's kinda confusing.

A war was fought between the molepeople and humans for the Yggdrasil sometime in the second millenium B.C.E. During the fighting, a couple of arrows stuck the Yggdrasil, causing mass genocide via exploding galaxies. Eventually, the humans drove the molepeople back into their underground caverns, and claimed the tree for their own. Both sides had good reason to want the tree; for no magic wand can be made without wood from its branches.

And now you know the terrible secret behind magicians, for every rabbit from a hat, every woman sawed in half, is payed for many times over by the death of billions as their homes are ripped from the great tree's bark. Some might call me a hypocrite for taking wood myself, but I am not using this wood for cheap tricks, I am using it for SCIENCE!

Well, my wordcount's still pretty low, and I have nearly half an hour left. I might as well tell you how I got this twig. After writing about the magicascope, I left my home for the woods. There, I called upon my spirit animal, a Deinonychus, and he led me deep within the forest. I took out my divining rod, and walked for days until I found the saphire staircase. I took out my sledgehammer and held the stairway to ransom until Magic Tom agreed to show the tree. Then, I ripped off a branch and went home.  :D