I have a potion.
You can drink some.
It will give you full health.
All dungeons become well-lit,
With far more davenports than you remember them having.
The war-cry of of your assailants will sound like praise,
As they extend warm hands that seek friendship.
Like the pot of Strega Nona, will issue an endless stream of currency,
Fulfilling your basic needs in perpetuity.
With so much leftover that you rain prosperity upon nations of poverty.
Your hair will become long and full, never requiring a wash, and attracting the hands of beautiful people. It makes them feel at ease but not overly desirous or jealous. It’s a good head of hair you’ll have after this potion.
Animals will respond to you affably. In parks, despite the elderly gentleman with a loaf of bread in his weathered hands, the ducks will congregate and do their most furious quacking around your shins. It will quietly foster a sense of kinship to the natural world for those who would see it.
You will be awarded Masters certification in a range of subjects from Ant-Farm Construction to Water Resource Management and academics will instinctively (and incorrectly) cite you in research papers. The studies they cite that you (allegedly) performed will be 100% accurate, strangely, but they will never have actually occurred.
You will grow tall.
You will grow wise.
You will become occupied with concocting similar potions for your peers.
You will throw really great “potion parties” once you get the hang of it, and at first, just a few people will show up because mostly everyone will call you a liar (despite the undeniability that your hair is looking great), but they will come around.
They will come around!
(Also the potion makes your feet triple in size for 8 minutes every month, sorrrrry!)