I couldn't sleep last night so I hopped on my broom and went for a Fly.
October is the best time of year for a Broom Fly. All the witches are out and having a ball. We love to catch up and visit. We share hexes and spells and eye of newt. (Eye of newt is so hard to come by these days given the current economic recession...)
I flew to Wisconsin last night. Elk Heart Lake to be specific.
My sister will be married there on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. I told her I would check out the locals and report back. Nice people, those Wisconsonites. Salt of the earth. I approve.
I will fly to the wedding via commercial airline. Annoying- given brooms are so much more economical with no layovers.
But we must keep up appearances. Can't have Coral's new in-laws knowing why she loves her black kitten so... (My youngest sister and mother also have black cats. Not kidding here. ...I am not allowed one for my husband has cat allergies. My powers are greatly impaired as a result...)
I am not a card carrying witch, you understand. Don't be silly. I am a card carrying MORMON. Lately I have committed to refrain from spells and spiritualism on the grounds that I want to fit in better with the church ladies. In the past I would just cast spells on the ladies and they fell into my charms. This way is much harder, I assure you. But far more rewarding as well.
I am striving to build a Zion society without the help of magic. Harder then it looks, folks.
But I DO have the potential for witchery, so I try to keep in touch with my sister witches -a far cry from sister wives. A witch would NEVER share a husband! She would sooner turn a sister wife into a baboon.
Anywho, as I floated about Wisconsin I ran into Wendy Witchers of the Wisconsin Witchers.
"So my dress made it all the way to Tucson, did it?" she asked.
"You're KIDDING! My Halloween costume was YOURS?" I asked. "I was beginning to wonder why no spirits had come forth. Concerned I lost my touch..."
"Aw, Crys, you'll always be a witch to me."
"Thanks."
"I got married in that dress and everything."
"MARRIED?! YOU? You have always been such a vacillator. You fall in and out of Love daily! What (or more likely, who) possessed you to get MARRIED?"
"I fell in Love with a man who rejected me...".
"Wendy, NO man is capable of rejecting a witch." I rolled my eyes. Witches can be so dramatic and untruthful at times...
"That is why I found this one so special! He was adorable! He refused my advances on the grounds that I practice witchcraft and stick pins in voo doo dolls on the weekend (everyone needs a hobby!). He said he answered to a higher power than mine. Can you IMAGINE?!"
"Well, yeah, actually..."
"I HAD to have him! So I wrote a love spell and sacrificed a Bleeding Heart Dove."
"You DIDN'T! Oh Wendy! How COULD you?!"
"It ended badly. He fell madly in Love with me. He was beside himself. He told me he loved me so much his heart felt it might explode at any given second.
He picked all the flowers from the neighbors yards and brought them to me as a token of his undying affection. Couldn't pass a flower without plucking it out of the ground by the root and handing to me. I got a call from the association...
He was CONSTANTLY kissing and caressing me. It never let up! My skin was chaffed and chapped from all the kissing and caressing.
He went broke in a month because he insisted on buying me gifts daily.
He was wildly jealous.
I baked us cookies one evening.
I dared say, 'I LOVE fresh cookies!'
He jumped up and grabbed the hot cookie sheet with both hands. He threw it on the floor screaming and began stomping on it. He shouted, 'You love these cookies more that you love me, don't you!!!'
That night he tried to slit my throat for fear I would have an affair with a macaroon.
'If I can't have you, nobody can!' he whispered.
He then proceeded to have a heart attack.
He died.
None of it was his fault, of course. I was to blame. The magic of the bleeding heart dove is not to be trifled with. I feel terrible about the entire ordeal."
I sighed.
"I'm sure you do."
We said our goodbyes and I flew back home to my comfy bed and loving, black cat allergy ridden husband. I love him so much more than I love macaroons.
