Surprisingly cool, with numerous existential implications

The first few pages of your pamphlet grimoire appears to be a collection of jargon heavy data analysis, which you promptly ignore completely. Flipping ahead, you come to what appears to be a simple diagram to help you cast the spell for the first time; apparently you'll need a relatively simple magic circle and a short incantation, which shouldn't be too much trouble to whip up once you've read through this thing. And the last few pages contain a short, personalized summary of what your spell actually does in common English. For a moment, it occurs to you that your tax dollars must be going to some technical writer out there who sits around all day summarizing Sorceries for people like you, and you're not quite sure if you're thankful for that or not. In any case, you can't deny that you're at least somewhat excited to have something to do other than wallow in self pity, and you dive into the summary of your personalized magic.

It appears that CalSorc has named your spell "Zoomorphization", and classified it under the School of Transmutation. According to what's written here, it's not dissimilar to a lot of other transmutation spells, in that it changes something into something else. Specifically, it says that your Sorcery can transform inanimate, lifeless objects into living animals. Unfortunately, as a spell that essentially creates life, it's also extremely draining, and the grimoire cautions you against casting it more than a few times in a day, lest you endanger your own life ****.

All in all, this spell... well, it's not particularly useful, but it actually seems pretty awesome. Being able to create little birds and shit? Sounds like it might be kind of fun. Of course, nothing is ever that easy, and there are a few caveats and limitations to the spell.

First off, it doesn't seem like the spell gives you any direct control over what you can turn a particular object into. The object's animal form is essentially random, and doesn't appear to have any regard for conservation of mass; an ashtray could tranform into a grizzly bear, for example.

Second, you have no ability to directly control the created animal; this is Transmutation, not Summoning, after all. On the bright side, whatever you create will tend to regard you as a friend, and you can dismiss the spell with a thought. So even if said grizzly starts to think you'd make a better snack than a playmate, you can turn it back into an ashtray with little effort.

Third, once a particular object's animal form is set, it's permanently set. Following the example, no matter how many times you cast the spell on that ashtray, it'll always be a grizzly bear; but if you cast it on a different ashtray, even the same model of ashtray from the same ashtray manufacturer, it's not necessarily going to be a bear.

After giving your grimoire, such as it is, one last skim for anything you may have missed, you set your resolve. Sure, you may very well create something a little dangerous, but fuck it. You're going to cast this thing right now, and see what the hell happens. It's not like you've got anything better to do.

After moving into the backyard and drawing a simple chalk circle on the concrete near the jacuzzi, you think you're about ready to get this party started. Your very first magic circle is complete with a pentagonal centerpiece, and you've taken the effort to inscribe it with a few runes your grimoire suggested. According to the instructions, the runes should help focus the magical energy to reduce wasting too much, allowing you to cast your Sorcery with less magical energy than it might require otherwise. Which is useful, seeing as this spell is apparently somewhat draining.

The only thing you had difficulty with was finding some stuff to transform. In the end, you decided on a few simple household objects; a plain white coffee mug from the kitchen, a souvenir T-shirt from your luggage you bought on your last trip to San Francisco, and a paperback novel you brought along to read on your flight.

You place the mug on the ground, in the center of the chalk outline. According to the pamphlet in your off hand, you've just got to say the magic words and focus on imparting your mana. You hold your dominant hand out over the circle, and with no pomp and circumstance whatsoever, you begin to read the provided incantation.

Almost immediately, the mug on the ground begins to glow with a soft blue light, and you begin to feel your mana flow into it. It's a strange, but not unpleasant feeling. It reminds you somewhat of the feeling of your skin cooling after leaving a sauna.

Sure enough, as the light intensifies, the glowing mug on the concrete begins to shift its form. It distends and morphs before your eyes, like a lump of clay being formed by a set of powerful, but delicate, hands. The handle unravels itself from the cup, and extends into a thin long tail, as the cup deforms and elongates into a small quadrupedal body.

And as abruptly as it began, the light fades away, revealing the body of a small white rat lying on its side.

The rat lies there for a moment, looking dead as can be, before its eyes suddenly open and it takes a deep breath. A moment later, it scrambles up onto its feet and is begins to scuttle around, eyeing its surroundings curiously. It comes up to your shoe, and sniffs it experimentally, before it looks up at your face with its little pink eyes. It's actually kind of cute.

And then the enormity of what you've just done begins to register in your mind.

Congratulations Frankenstein, you've just created life.