When Wily Witches Win

“Ooh I love sewing. But I’m not familiar with this particular stitch. Is that crochet? Corset Crochet?” A horrible idea came to our little witch and she drew in a deep breath. “Ah, alluring alliteration always aids an amateur assistant acquiring an abhorrent apprenticeship as awful assaults aimed at addled attendant attempt an asphyxiating abdominal affliction as apologetic administrator, also an aesthetic, abstinent abuse addict, admits activating abominable appliances; affectionately aquanting aspiring auxiliary accomplice and atrocious assimilation activities.” Yvonne wiped her brow from the effort of such alliterative abuse. I told you it was a horrible idea. The corsets cringed and crept closer to their victim on the factory floor below.

She was just about to unleash an epic bubble spell of extreme evil proportions when Ender’s arrival interrupted her casting. The razor sharp iron threads incinerated like the wick on old-timing TNT, igniting the corsets along the way. Yvonne jumped up and managed to snag one of the corsets for herself, thinking it would look particularly flattering on her.

“Tis I, Yvonne the Evil Witch of Undisclosed Postal Code! And you arrive in the moment of my greatest triumph! Behold my powers and look upon me in awe!” She flung a pink bubble from the tip of her wand that zipped across the factory straight to the bell that would signal her victorious ending of this grueling initiation. She struck an impressive pose and gave Ender a smug look. He was in for a real treat.

The bubble popped harmlessly against the bell, failing to move it in the least, but cleaning it to a squeaky shine in the process. Yvonne contorted her face in a grimace and listened to the judgemental silence. Okay, this was awkward. Yvonne looked at Ender from the corner of her eye and nudged her broom with her foot. Broom sighed and shrugged it’s non-existent shoulders then sailed across the factory floor, sweeping clean a path in its wake. Standing upright it tapped the bell gently and seemed to look back at Yvonne for approval. She gave it an encouraging nod and mouthed the word “louder.” Broom gave the bell a mighty stroke whose peal must surely have been heard across the city. Yvonne subtly beckoned it back and Broom cruised to her side where she gratefully laid her hands on it.

“I win!” Yvonne shouted up to the sexy forehead girl overlooking the proceedings. It should be illegal to show that much forehead in public. “That counts! I still win!”

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