Witch Stories

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TALES OF NORWOOD GREEN

 

 

by

 

 

 

MICHELLE D. JAMES

CONTENTS

 

 

MIND YOUR HEAD � 5

 

SEAT STEALERS � 10

 

THE WEEVIL � 15

 

UNWANTED ATTENTION � 18

 

THE VAMPIRE FAMILY � 22

 

PEOPLE WITH COLDS � 26

 

SPLITTING HAIRS � 29

 

SELF-ABSORBED PEOPLE � 33

 

MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU � 36

 

 

 

*

Mind Your Head

 

 

It was one of those evenings that we�d decided to meet at our local pub, The Willow Tree. In our usual manner, we commandeered the inglenook beside the open fire, which is commonly known as the snug room. This was our regular spot, and no one, I repeat no one, would dare sit there, unless after eleven p.m. when the customers would feel safe in the knowledge that we would not be venturing out on that particular evening.

������� It was going to be one of those evenings of storytelling, or to be more precise, an evening of venting our frustration and anger through the ghastly, ghostly telling of our tales�

������� Oh sorry, how rude of me! I haven�t introduced us all. My name is Michaela, and my two beautiful companions are Tabitha and Lucinda. As you may or may not have guessed, we are witches who live in a beautiful village called Norwood Green, which is surrounded by hills. Additionally, one might say that we tend to get up to certain mischief if provoked�and as you will discover, this is quite often!

������� Anyway, it was my turn to go to the bar, as was our custom of whoever arrived first getting the bevvies in. I returned to our corner with three pints of our favourite brew, Black Sheep. Yes, we three women partake in the art of beer drinking, and pints at that, I may add. We arranged these meetings at least once a month, usually at the time of the full moon, as we needed the light to help us find our way home during any one of our drunken stupors!

������� So this is where our stories were given life, around an open fire in this most ancient of pubs in Norwood Green.

������� �Well, who is going to be the first to tell her little tale this evening?� I said as I placed our three pints down on the table.

������� �I think it is your turn to start, Michaela.�

������� �Is that right, Tabitha?�

������� �Yes it is, my dear,� said Lucinda, her fiery red hair and temper rendering her tone snappy. �It was we two who ventured first on the last couple of meetings.�

������� �Okay then, let me see,� I said. �Ah yes, here goes. This is where my story begins. May I add before I get started that this is a true story; I know it to be true because I was present at the time of this grotesque incident. What�? I hear you ask. Was I responsible for this heinous event? Well now, that would be telling, wouldn�t it? You will just have to wait and see.

������� �The event begins in front of a charity shop and escalates over a period of about two hours through many other stores, ending outside another charity shop. Additionally, it is a story about the frustration that we all experience when we are out and about in the big bad world.

������� �Ladies, don�t you just get so sick and tired of women - yes, women, the worst perpetrators - blocking the doorways of shops while they have a good old gossip about some poor innocent person? Nevertheless, they will not bloody well move! Why in hell do they do it? Well, I have my theories; they do it because they can, because they know exactly what they are doing. Yes, they plant themselves there to irritate the crap out of everyone in the whole goddamn universe! The stupid bints just talk, talk, and chatter, chatter about a load of old tosh. They waste the time of poor innocents like you and me. They are selfish, you must all agree.�

������� �Oh yes, we certainly do. Go on, Michaela, we haven�t seen you so wound up in ages,� my friends said almost in unison.

������� �Okay.� I paused to take another mighty slurp and then continued. �I thought to myself that I would teach the next person who did this a very valuable lesson in public relations. So there I was, stuck in the doorway of my favourite charity shop, and this Miss Thing was blocking my path, whining on about so-and-so to this poor old man who just couldn�t escape from the stupid boring hag. I waited impatiently outside in the freezing cold, but still she went on. I thought at this rate, the poor old man would die of hypothermia! I tried to catch her gaze with my own rapid-eye-movements. I made furtive movements in order to grab her attention, if only in the peripheries of her vision. But, ohhh nooo! It just wasn�t happening. I even thought of using the force�! (However, that is another story�)

������� �Then I lost it.

������� �I shouted, �Excuse me. Could I possibly get into the shop?�

������� �And do you know what, Tabitha - do you know what she had the cheek to do? She gave me one of the filthiest looks and then stormed off around the town!

������� �Well, I was soon in hot pursuit. I wasn�t going to let her get away with it this time. She was gonna pay big time, sister!

������� �I followed her for ages and my ears were straining under the constant babble that came out of her mouth in the company of other shoppers. And then I saw my opportunity�and went for it. Just as she was blocking the entrance to the bank, I called to her, �Hello! Could you spare a few moments of your time? I�m conducting a survey about the shops in our area. I just need to know if you think this town could do with any improvements. You know, some new stone artwork or anything?�

������� � �I haven�t got time to talk to you about surveys,� she said rapidly. �I�m in a hurry because people keep stopping me in the street with their boring chatter!�

������� � �Oh really, madam. Well, if you�d just like to give me a moment of your time, I�ll let you be on your way.�

������� � �Stone the crows,� she exclaimed.

������� � �Stone indeed, madam,� I said, as a deliciously cruel idea immediately occurred to me. �Just like the kind of language that emerges from your fair mouth: it pebbledashes the senses!�

������� � �What? What are you babbling on about? Stone me!�

������� �She had cawed her last words.

������� � �My pleasure�, I said.�

������� �Michaela, what did you do to her?� Lucinda asked. �Tell me you didn�t turn her into a crow!� ����

������� �Oh, you could say that.� I paused for effect. �Well�you know how people are always discussing the ugliness of gargoyles which are situated above entrances of certain buildings�?���

������� �Yeess,� Lucinda said.

������� �Ahem, I must confess that it is I who am the sculpture of these magnificent creations! It is I who turn annoying gobby women to stone, their mouths gurneying crap for all eternity! It is I who renders them solid concrete above the doorways! And the best thing is, while they cannot escape from the constant babble of other selfish people, they also cannot speak, which is a torture to them. Additionally, as we speak now, they are being slowly devoured by acid rain.� I hesitated again, drawing another satisfying gulp from my beer, before finishing, �Which makes a change from their acid tongues!�

������� �Oh wow! You kept that one quiet,� said Tabitha. �And here�s little old me thinking that some poor stone mason chipped away forever, when it was you all along. These are your very own works of art!�

Seat Stealers

 

 

�Okay, girls would you like another pint? Same again�or should we mix our drinks tonight? Oh, I think not! Not after last time. You know, I tried flying home on the pub�s old yard brush!�

������� Lucinda was in good form this evening. She went on, �I bet you can�t wait to hear my tale. And yes, it�s a nasty one. Compared to your tame yarns, I never fail to deliver grotesqueries!�

������� �Cheeky monkey�, I said as she fled for the bar. �She never changes does she, Tabitha?�

������� �I know, I know, but what can you do?� Tabitha said, narrowing her beautiful lilac eyes and brushing her honey-blond hair behind her ears. �She is simply Lucinda.�

������� Lucinda returned, bearing brimming pints of gorgeousness!

������� �Here we are, girls, get your lips around these, then. �Tis like medicine: it restores, relaxes, and sends you to sleep like a baby�or rather not if you drink too much. Had a nasty hangover last month. I was like a woman without a bar of chocolate at that time of month!�

������� �Nothing new there, then,� I teased.

������� �I will ignore that facetious comment, my dear Michaela. Now sup up and be quiet while I relate my tale.

������� �It�s about a businesswoman who stole the seat of a very polite, newly-retired man in the Head of Steam pub in Huddersfield. I�d arrived far too early, so I thought I would have a quick one before I caught my train home. I got my pint and made my way over to the nice cosy couches, which, as you know, are near the exit to the platform: nice and handy if you ask me, having a pub in the train station�

������� �Anyway, I nodded a polite hello to the old guy with a flat cap who was seated on the smaller couch next to me. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that he was trying to catch my attention as I rummaged for my book inside my bag. (Which reminds me, I must get rid of some of the rubbish in it - sort of downsize it somewhat. I can�t even think of any spell that would do the trick!) I just knew that he was dying to give my ears some GBH. Therefore, I ferociously avoided his gaze. But then of course he spoke.

������� � �Would you mind just looking after me bag while I go to bar? Won�t be long.�

������� � �Yes, of course I will,� I answered, and off he went. � �Great, I thought; back to my book. But after a few minutes of peace and quiet, a horribly sharp voice screeched in front of me.

������� � �S�cuse me. Is this seat taken?�

������� �I looked up to learn who could possibly own such a �voice�, and I was startled to see a pinstripe-suit talking at me. Then I realised there was actually a female inside it�somewhere. (Gonna have to keep off those magic mushrooms, ladies!)

������� � �Yes, I�m afraid it is.� I explained. �The gentleman has gone to the bar to buy a drink. His bag is on the floor there.�

������� � �Oh, okay then!� she snapped back. �Well, he�s not here now, so I�ll just sit down.�

������� I was absolutely mortified. I could not believe that someone would have the audacity to steal a person�s chair so blatantly and so callously. I felt awful because the old guy had asked me to look after his seat as well as his bag. The suit with the woman inside it had to move his bag in order to steal his seat, which allowed a place for her friend, Ms Peroxide.

������� �What could I do now? It was too late - they were already seated and sipping their drinks. I�d let the man down. There was nothing more to be done. I would have to deal with my embarrassment when he returned. So I went back to my book. But I couldn�t concentrate. I was seething. I couldn�t believe what a pair of bitches they were!

������� �Finally the guy returned�and looked with disbelief at Ms Suit and Ms Peroxide who were sat on his couch. I tried to explain what had happened, but I was rudely interrupted by Ms Peroxide.

������� � �You don�t mind, do you?�

������� �Well, what could the poor bloke do now? He couldn�t exactly say, yes I do mind, now bugger off! - could he? I could, quite easily, but he was too polite.

������� �In the event, he just looked me in the eye and said, �Do you mind if I join you on your couch?�

������� � �Er, no,� I said, trying to force a smile onto my frustrated face, which was about as ready for a smile as a living toad is for the pot. Oh buggeroo! I thought. Now I�m in for it; I�m gonna get his goddamned life story now!

������� �And yes: he didn�t shut up for two bloody hours! He even followed me to another table in another room after I tried to lose him. I was trapped. I couldn�t be as rude to him as I normally am to men like that. I felt guilty and partly responsible for him losing his seat to those two bints, who incidentally were going to pay. I would make sure Ms Suit would never steal another person�s seat in the future�

������� �So I looked around just in time to see her disappearing through the exit to the platform. I downed my pint, said cheerio to the old guy, and sped after her. I managed to overtake her and get on the train. I hurriedly weaved in and out of the standing people, found a seat, and sat down.

������� �I bent over my bag and did a little rummaging inside, just organizing my bits and pieces, the better to cast my spell. I lent over to a passenger and said very loudly, �Would you mind looking after my seat and my bag while I go to the toilet?�

������� � �No problem�, came the reply.

������� � �Thanks,� I said. And I carefully placed my bag on the seat, so that it would look obvious to other passengers that the seat was actually occupied. Then I went quickly to the toilet.

������� �I returned just in time so see my bait being taken by Ms Suit. She stole the seat and dropped my metallic bag onto the floor by her feet.

������� �Then the bag handle sort of moved snake-like, wrapping itself around her steel-spiked heel� Weird why that should happen, eh? Hee, hee.

������� �All of a sudden she began to convulse as the electrical currents from the moving train travelled up the bag�s handle along her steel-spiked heel. Finally, she was jettisoned out of the seat and lay gasping for air, smoke coming out of her mouth!�

������� Lucinda at last paused for breath and took a sip of her untouched beer. �It really was quite electrifying to watch!� she said as she narrowed her sly yellow eyes.

The Weevil

 

 

We both looked at Tabitha.

������� �I suppose it is now my turn to tell my little story. Well��

������� �Not before you�ve got the pints in first, my dear�, I said.

������� And off she went to the bar to purchase our much-needed beverages. The ambience was perfect: the fire crackled its flames, sending a wonderful glowing flicker around the snug. Lucinda�s red hair seemed to be aflame and her eyes glowed like the little embers in the grate. It was so quiet; a low thrum of music was thankfully at a distance, since there weren�t any speakers in this room.

������� Incidentally, this brought back a little mischievous memory of mine, about the time I�d cast a spell called �Rogue music� against the jukebox. Via the medium of the music I�d manage to possess a friend of mine called Ebony. She�d had an out-of-body experience! I chuckled to myself. To this day, she doesn�t know it was me�

������� �And what are you laughing at, my girl?� Lucinda asked.

������� �Just a little rogue story which, so to speak, isn�t mine to tell!� I said with an air of deliberate mysteriousness.

������� Tabitha returned with the beers, just before Lucinda could probe me any further about my story.

������� �Here we go, sisters. Enjoy your drinks while I tell my little tale. It�s about weevils� You both look puzzled. I shall explain what a weevil is then, shall I?

������� �Weevils are insect-like people - or should I say, it is the female of the species who are the major culprits of this most annoying of crimes against other poor unsuspecting human beings. They weave in and out in front of you when you�re on your way to wherever. They are in the streets, villages and towns where you and I live, and we are thoroughly outnumbered!���������

������� �Calm down, Tabitha, or you�ll have yourself crying again,� I said.

������� �Sorry, but I just started to panic. People scare me so much. Anyway�deep breath. Right. Big gulp of beer. Now I�m fine.

������� �Okay, it was actually while I was on my way here that I decided that enough was enough. I was desperately trying not to be late for our meeting tonight when this old lady, who was very sprightly, began weaving and wending in front of me. I was so desperate to get past her. I could have sworn that she�d developed wing-mirrors at the side of her head. (Perhaps she had, and those weren�t her ears!) She was watching my every move as I was trying to overtake her.

������� �I felt the panic rise inside me, and I suspected that I would be stuck in this situation forever, so I screamed, �Get out of my blinking way, you silly bat!� �

������� �You certainly know how to swear, don�t you, sweetheart?� Lucinda said sarcastically.

������� �I shall ignore that remark. Anyway, you will not be disappointed so much with my spell-working, because then�I turned her into a bat! I made her into a batty thing, or to be more specific, a swing-ball. I thought the town was lacking recreational games for the young these days, so I set this up in Bradford�s Centenary Square. When anyone is passing, they can whack the silly bat-like face of a ball out of the way with anything they like! She can weave all she wants now!�

Unwanted Attention

 

 

�I can�t believe you did that, Tabitha,� I said. �So whenever we see swing-balls set up in a town you�ve visited, it�s actually one of those zig-zag people?�

������� �You bet it is! So you could say that I�m responsible for a certain percentage of the population disappearing.�

������� �I never thought you had it in you, Tabitha,� Lucinda exclaimed. �I think I need another drinky-poos, Michaela.�

������� �I�m going, I�m going,� I said as I hurried towards the bar.

������� I returned to my seat with the pints. By now, I think the alcohol was beginning to exert its usual control over my tongue, as it was working itself loose rather nicely. I stretched out in my seat and I thought that I would check the time on the pub�s most peculiar clock. The clock is called �old peculiar�, and the time, or rather the numbers, are reversed; the hands go around widdershins. This is a good excuse to stay out longer, as time appears to be going backwards!

������� I took a long sip of my brew and sighed in contentment, feeling absolutely under the influence of the spirits!

������� �When you�re ready, Michaela,� prompted Lucinda. �Or shall I tell the next tale? You don�t look fit enough to string two words together, let alone a whole story.�

������� �Yeah, okay,� I replied. �Go ahead. I�ll be fine after this pint, I promise!�

������� �Right, sweet sisters. Here is my little story. It�s about an episode that you both have probably experienced many times, being frequenters of public houses and also gorgeous Goth-chicks like myself! My story concerns unwanted attention from members of the opposite sex�moreover, those who only approach you when they are pissed out of their heads! They come to you and say things like, �Oh, baby,� or �I like the colour of your hair,� or �Are you married?� They sometimes just sit there swaying in their seats, staring, just godamn staring at your knockers. Oh, I could just remove their perverted ugly eyes!�

������� �Calm down, Lucinda, they�re only looking. They aren�t exactly harming you,� said Tabitha.

������� I just sprawled in my seat, not giving a damn. Let her rant on, I thought; let her get it off her considerably well-formed chest! Just leave her to Tabitha, who is always good at calming her. Good job there are no sad lecherous types who frequent this pub. Additionally, the locals know not to intrude on us when we are in the snug. If we want to have a conversation, we would just go into the main bar area. This is usually at the end of the evening when we can match any fella�s drunken foulmouthness.

������� �Oh, goodness me!� Lucinda went on. �Sometimes I can�t help myself. Anyway, I was at a loose end the other week; I had just missed my bus home from work in Huddersfield, so I decided to go into Wetherspoons for a plate of nachos and a pint. I ordered at the bar and took my pint downstairs, where it is no smoking, no music, and frankly, a knob-head free zone.

������� �That�s to say, it usually is�until this particular afternoon. My meal arrived and I was so hungry; I�d only had two slices of toast all day. Therefore, I was very much looking forward to my meal (which by the way is supposed to be a meal for two!). Well, I was troughing away, when this drunken guy came past me and said - very rudely I may add; as you know, I hate anybody coming between me and my food - he said, �You�re never gonna eat all that!�

������� �I just stared at him, didn�t say a word, just glared. And after that, there came a stream of the little ignorant runts as, between mouthfuls of my nachos, they kept passing comments like, �On your own, love?� and �Nice top, darling,� and �You�re really enjoying that, aren�t you?�

������� �It was like Charing Cross bloody station - and I was well pissed off at being the afternoon�s free entertainment. Therefore, I sat there winding myself up, as you do, waiting for the next rude pratt to interrupt me on his way back from the men�s room. And, before I could say or do anything, Mr I�m-God�s-gift-to-women-when-I�m-pissed, said, �Oh, you�ve eaten it all up, you greedy little girl. You�ll make yourself sick.�

������� � �Wrong! Wrong phrase to use is �little girl�, you intimidating little pillock�, � I said as my bile rose, and I don�t mean that in a metaphorical sense either. Somehow I was able to mutter a few words of dark magic before it happened�

������� �Yes, the sick then erupted from my mouth � surely more than I�d consumed - like a geezer, and buried the fat git on the floor!

������� � �Yeah, mate, and men like you make me so sick,� I said.

������� �You should have seen him just laying there in a heap upon the floor. I couldn�t distinguish his spotty little face from the residue of my regurgitated nachos!�

������������������������������� The Vampire Family

 

 

�That is so vile, Ms Puke-Face,� I said. �You�re always throwing-up, Lucinda. It�s all that acidic bile you have inside you.�

������� We all laughed, and at I�d last returned to planet earth and made my way to the bar to get another round of drinks in, paid for by Lucinda who was by this time incapable of walking straight, let alone carrying pints. I set the glasses upon the table and began my tale.

������� �My story is about vampires.�

������� �Vampires?� exclaimed Tabitha. �There�s no such thing as vampires. What do you take us for?�

������� �A bunch of tarty witches, why?�

������� Then we all laughed again.

������� �This is a story, a true story I may add, about a family of vampires who sucked out the soul and bled a poor woman dry. She was a lovely-looking woman, and such a caring soul. She always put everyone before her, always tried to solve people�s problems. Moreover, this was her downfall: people took her for granted, and they used her up and discarded her like a floppy rag.

������� �One day she woke up from a very bad nightmare. She had slept fitfully for over a week. She was beginning to feel very exhausted, ill and depressed. She couldn�t get out of bed. She noticed that her bones were beginning to poke through her skin; it was so pale and papery. She imagined that her skin was a shroud covering the remains of a dead body. She felt lifeless, felt she was already dead inside.

������� �Then she felt a sharp pain in her side. It was her husband jabbing her with his elbow. �How about a nice cuppa?� he said.

������� � �Can�t you do it for a change? I feel terrible. I feel so ill,� she replied.

������� � �You�ll feel much better when you get up and start walking around. You see: this is what you get for staying up too late watching that bloody vampire film.�

������� � �But I had to watch the film in order to make me tired enough to go to sleep,� she replied.

������� � �That didn�t work now, did it, because you kept me awake most of the night? It�s about time you got yourself sorted out, since I need my sleep.�

������� �With that, she fell back to sleep, exhausted with the effort of speech and her husband�s nagging. She began dreaming; she longed for pleasant dreams. Then she was abruptly awakened by the sound of her children screaming at each other.

������� � �Mum! Mum!� they shouted in unison.

������� �She sat up too quickly and began shaking from the shock of being roughly awakened.

������� � �What now? What do you both want? Can�t you both let mummy have a sleep. Just this once. I don�t feel very well.�

������� � �You never do these days,� said her son. �You�re always saying you�re poorly. We�re hungry, we want our breakfast.�

�And he won�t let me have the cereal I want,� added her daughter.

������� �The doorbell rang. Her family kept making their demands, waking her from her slumber. She kept hearing pleasant distant sounds through her open window. They were inviting noises that seemed to comfort her existence. She knew she was becoming weaker, she could feel herself slipping into insignificance, a feeling she had experienced for as long as she could remember. However, this time she didn�t care as she slipped into a deeper sleep.

������� �Her body began to crumble into fine dust; her husband threw the bedclothes off her, and with that, her ashes wafted through the open window. She felt herself rise above the bed, as if great comforting arms had taken her very soul to the owner�s bosom. Then she experienced herself being carried through time and space, the air around her breathing life back into her empty body, freeing her spirit at last from the vampires.�

������� I took a sip of my pint and looked up at Lucinda and Tabitha, who were both crying into their empty glasses.

������� �That is such a sad story,� said Lucinda.

������� �Yes. But it�s so beautiful,� said Tabitha. �I suppose there are many types of vampires around on this earth, not just the bloodsucking type you see in films.�

������� �Shed knows of a pair of vampires in Whitby. Don�t you both remember him telling us about them? �I�ll take those expressions as a no,� I said. �You were probably lying under the table, pissed out of your heads at the time!�

������� �Talking of getting pissed, I think it�s time for another, Tabitha��

People With Colds

 

 

�Here we go, girls, got us pints of Worthingtons for a change,� said Tabitha. �Now, talking about the selfish behaviour of others, don�t you just hate it when people breathe their colds or other bugs all over you, and you just know that you are going to get their ailment?

������� �I mean, if they are really poorly and are off work due to illness, why on earth do they go out spreading their infectious diseases to others? I really despise people who do that; there really is no need.

������� �It�s always like that where I work at the Film and Photography Museum in Bradford. It�s a breeding ground for germs, what with the heat and the air-conditioning. Anyway, it was just as I�d about lost my patience with this situation that I had an idea. I promised myself that when the next person with a cold - when they�re off sick at work and should be at home - came in, I would do my level best to teach them a lesson: what comes around, goes around. You know that old saying that whatever bad is done to you, it will return to them three-fold? Well, that was my idea.

������� �I thought to myself that it would be an excellent idea to curse the next person who had a cold.

������� �A couple of weeks ago, I was just recovering from my third severe cold, and had been doing extra shifts at work to cover for other people who had come down with various bugs. Moreover, it was the first day that I�d been feeling well and more my usual bubbly self�when a customer came in.

�Eyes bulging red; nose scabby, rouged and runny. This bloated ruddy orb began to splutter its words to me. (This startled me somewhat, as I didn�t know that red orbs could speak!) Then I realised it was human, and female. She said, �I feel really poorly; my ears are bunged-up and I�ve got a cold.� She sprayed me with her infectious germs. At which point, I did my best not to breathe in her germs.

������� �I turned my head to the side and tried to suck clean air into my lungs from the corner of my mouth before I replied to her.

������� � �I can see that. Shouldn�t you be at home, tucked in your bed with a Lemsip or something?�

������� � �Been there, done that: bored. Need to see film to cheer me up,� the red orb pulsed at me.

������� � �Oh, you do, do you, you selfish freak?� I said. Well, I said this in my head anyway. What I really said was, �How nice! Would you like to see �Saving Star Wars�? It�s on in a few minutes.�

������� � �Is it part of the trilogy?� the orb said.

������� � �No, it�s sort of a tribute film. You�ll enjoy it - all Star Wars fans like it.�

������� �I whispered under my breath that she could have a trilogy if she wanted, a trilogy of a specially developed virus that would not be passed on to any one else; she would be the only one plagued with this cold for three whole months�which was her punishment from the whole of society!

������� �My Goddess, that�s a bit severe isn�t it? After all, folk get less time for shoplifting!,� gasped Lucinda.

������� �Indeed,� I said. �Okay girls, how about another drinkypoos while I tell yet another tale this evening?�

������� �Yes please,� they both said.

Splitting Hairs

 

 

�Here is a scary-hairy story about the possession of another�s soul,� I said. �This tale isn�t anything that I can hold my hand up to and claim fame for. I was merely a spectator. Actually, it is quite a tragic story about the punishment of a girl on account of vanity. So girls, better get your hankies at the ready��

������� �How did you come about this story, if you weren�t the one who cast the spell?� asked Lucinda.

������� �Well, eventually I had to cast a spell to help the poor girl. It was the very same girl who worked behind our bar here,� I said. �Do you remember Sally, and do you both remember her having those very long hair extensions put in? - well, amongst other things!�

������� �Yes, I do,� said Tabitha. �I remember this shy creature turning into some sort erotic she-devil.�

������� �You�re spot on there, girl, because that was what she became possessed by: a succubus, a sexual predator of the opposite sex. It all started when I popped in for a quick drink after a grueling day at work, I needed to chill out before venturing home. I went to the bar in my usual manner, desperate for sustenance. However, there was no Sally. I waited patiently, but still no Sally. So I coughed and I rattled my keys; I jingled my change. (Which, by the way, I personally find irritating at the best of times, being on the receiving end of it at my workplace.)

������� �I could actually hear the feral sounds of copulation, then as if by magic she finally appeared, somewhat rosy-cheeked and dewy-skinned. I thought she looked a little strange, and yes, I realised that her usual milky coloured skin had turned a deep exotic olive colour. Additionally, I noticed that her hair was luxuriantly long, not to mention thicker and darker.

������� � �What would you like, Michaela?� Sally said in a seductive voice, which sounded nothing at all like her.

������� � �Er, a p-pint of Black Sheep, please,� I stammered.

������� � �Do you like my hair extensions?� she then said in her normal voice. �It�s real hair, you know. Women in Korea grow their hair for the purpose of making money from having it all cut off to sell. Then they start growing it all over again.�

������� � �I didn�t know that. That�s quite a freaky thing to do�but it�s also sad when you have to sell your own hair in order to make money to live on,� I said.

������� �Then Michaela�s facial features contorted and she fixed me with a stare that would have turned even Margaret Thatcher to stone! I realised then that she was probably possessed by a Korean girl who�d grown her hair in order that Sally might have the extensions. The poor girl must have met a terribly violent death for her to take the possession of her body in this way. The hair needed to be allowed to rest in peace, just like its previous owner. However, until that happened, the spirit would continue to inhabit Sally�s body�

������� �� �What did you say, you witch-bitch?� she shrieked in my face, her breath rancid like a rabid dog�s.

������� � �N-Nothing,� I muttered, throwing a fiver on the bar, and I made off rather quickly to the snug. I was absolutely petrified.�

������� �You must have been pretty spooked if you didn�t stay around for your change�� said Tabitha.

������� �I certainly was! Anyway, she disappeared again and I soon knew she was at it again, because I could hear this guy saying. �Oh yeah baby, oh yeah baby, that�s so good.�

������� �A few days later I overheard that Sally had been through half the fellas in the village, the singles and the married ones, too! Therefore, I rummaged in my bag and found my old spell book of possessions nestling amongst the half eaten chocolate bar at the bottom. I looked and looked for the spell that would cast the demon out of her, but it became obvious that I couldn�t work the spell as long as the hair extensions remained attached to Sally�s own hair. What I needed, girls, was a recipe of sorts to join the two elements. Therefore, I got on the mobile to my hairstylist to ask some advice about the removal of extensions. The following day she gave me some solution that would dissolve the special glue that attaches the extensions to the person�s hair.

������� �So, together with my spell book and the lotion, I cast my spell upon our dear barmaid. It took some doing, I can tell you. First, I had to put the solution into a spray bottle and recite a couple of cantrips - as you do!

������� �Then off I trotted towards the bar, spray bottle ready at hip level, ready to shoot my stuff! I was really hoping that Sally had her hair hanging loose and not tied up, so that the lotion would be sure to penetrate right to the roots where the glue was. I was in luck: her hair was hanging down to her waist and it was glowing, like ectoplasm.

�I said to her, �Your hair is looking a little brittle, a little dead along the edges. I�ve got some really good hair conditioner for such a problem. It will get rid of that dead look and breathe a little life and shine back into your hair.�

������� � �I�ll have some of that,� she said as she swung her hair towards me so I quickly had to spray her and say, �You foul smelling demon, get yourself out of this girl�s body now.�

������� �Oh, you really know how to caste a fancy spell�not!� said Lucinda.

������� �You are so sarcastic at times, Lucinda,� said Tabitha.

������� �Excuse me, girls, may I continue? Anyway, with that no-bullshit spell, the hair extensions fell to the floor and so did Sally muttering the words, �Thank god for that! I�ll never want to shag another fella as long as I live. I�m all, ahem, shagged out.�

������� �So the moral of the tale is to make sure you know where your hair comes from before your hairstylist attaches someone�s spirit to your body�

�Okay, whose round is it next?�

Self-Absorbed People

 

 

�Do you remember Kieran? I used to go to school with her, been friends for absolute years,� said Lucinda.

������� �Yes, I remember her. She�s the one who�s so comical after a couple of drinks, but after too much becomes maudlin,� I said.

������� �Yes, that�s her. Ms Self-absorbed. That�s the name I�ve recently christened her. In fact, she really pissed me off, to such a degree that it drove me to sending her a christening card with her new name inside. Do you think that was a little too subtle - do you think she would have got the message?� Lucinda said very seriously.

������� We were a tad speechless for a while, which was unusual for us. Tabitha and I just peered over the beers at each other, waiting for Lucinda to say something. I decided that the someone had to be me, since Tabitha was gulping at her beer with furious intent.

������� �Okay, Lucinda, you�re having us on, are you not?� I said. �Subtle, my fat behind!�

������� �Well, yes�er, no! I mean I didn�t know how to let her know what a pain in the backside she�d become to everyone around her. I didn�t want to lose her friendship as well, so I thought it was the least cruel way of letting her know,� Lucinda explained.

������� �You are so unbelievable, you hard witch.� I laughed. �So when was the last time you heard from her?�

������� �That�s a problem - you see, I haven�t heard from her for ages. I�m afraid of calling round. I was afraid of what I might or might not find, if this scenario turned out for the worst.�

������� �Whatever do you mean? What have you gone and done now, Lucinda,� asked Tabitha with deep concern.

������� �I don�t know. I can�t remember what I�ve done. I just remember saying aloud what I thought I had actually said inside my head, while writing her the card and spell casting at the same time.

������� �I, erm, I forgot to close the circle when I sort of opened my big fat gob and said, �Right, Kieran, after reading this, let the card absorb some of your precious time,� � said Lucinda.

������� �Bloody hell!� we both screamed. Then I added, �You know what you�ve gone and done, don�t you, you prize pumpkin? You�ve made your friend disappear inside the card. Which probably means the card has long been discarded amongst the rest of the rubbish on a tip somewhere in England�never to be seen again.�

������� �I was thinking along those lines myself,� said Lucinda. �Oh dear! At least she will feel at home amongst that rubbish, since all she ever spoke was trash!�

������� Tabitha and I started laughing; I knew we really shouldn�t laugh at such a tragic story, but we couldn�t help ourselves.

������� �What have I said now?� said Lucinda.

������� �You know: trash�rubbish. You made a joke and you didn�t know it,� said Tabitha.

������� �I bet she�s having a ripping good time�, I shrieked.

������� �I know, and she will be paper thin,� added Tabitha.

������� We just couldn�t stop laughing as Lucinda pursed her lips like a dog�s bottom and shook her head at us in despair.

������� �How about a nightcap while I tell the last tale of the evening?� I asked. �Drambuies all round, is it?�

������� �You bet!� they both said.

May the Force Be With You?

 

 

�Come on, Michaela,� said Tabitha, as I returned with the drinks. �It�s the end of the evening and you haven�t told us that tale about the force - you know, the Star Wars story!�

������� �I nearly forgot about that little tale for a moment. Yes, I will finish off the evening with my tale about the night I punished this guy, not a regular I may add, who was constantly humiliating his partner in the bar in front of everyone.

������� �I have heard people talk more respectfully to their dogs after they�ve chewed up their favourite pair of shoes than how he spoke to her. Every time she tried to join in the conversations with anyone or himself, he would ridicule her by saying, �You�re talking crap, you don�t know what you�re on about; will you shut the fuck up?!�

������� �He was absolutely horrible to her; I could have cried for her humiliation. She never once said anything wrong. All she tried to do was mix in and have a good time with the other people, but the bigoted idiot wouldn�t let her.

������� �Trish kept telling him to mind his language, but what she really wanted to say to him was to stop treating his girl like a piece of crap.

������� �I went to the bar for another drink and purposely interposed between them both. Then I said aloud, �Have you seen that new Star Wars film yet? It�s brilliant!�

������� � �No, not yet,� he said.

������� � �You should see it,� I said.

������� � �I want to see that fil�� she tried to say.

������� � �Was she talking to you?� he blurted at her.

������� � �I was actually talking to the both of you. Good film it is,� I said in my best Yoda voice, flicking beer foam, as a fairy would do with magic dust.

������� �The spell was cast.

������� � �Hey! You think what do you�re doing?� he stammered.

������� � �What did you say?� I said.

������� � �Flicked on beer you me,� he spluttered.

������� � �Still don�t know what you�re saying, mate,� I said.

������� � �At this point everyone around the bar began to laugh at him. He went bright red in the face and tried to say something. Then he managed to bark, �Go let�s right,� as he marched off out of the pub with his partner following behind, smirking behind his back.

������� � �And May The Force Be With You!� everyone shouted as he burst through the doors.�

������� �There we go, girls, short and sweet just like me. Right, are we ready to go, then? Where did you park your brooms?�

������� Then we all laughed.

������� �Why do you always say that when you know full well that we haven�t got any?� said Tabitha, laughing still.

������� �That�s because we left them parked at home, as we can�t drink and fly!� squealed Lucinda as she fell to the floor.

������� �Are you off, girls?� said Trish. �I can see you�ve all had a good night.� She giggled. �See you next full moon!�

������� �You certainly will. Do you know that you�ll be giving people the impression that we are witches, Trish?� I said with a laugh.

������� �Good night,� we all cackled.���

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