Not the Wiccan gig or any of your black magic, or your voodoo, or your dark arts. The O'Brien is blazing her own trail.
I'm going to need an outfit, something special but not too over the top. I'm thinking the vintage stewardess look: shorty-short, go-go boots and that shimmery frosted lipstick. Let's face it, the 1970s-era stewardess is the chick every woman wants to be and the chick every man wants to go to bed with. (If you're going to be a witch, that's the sort of detail you've got to carve out right at the starting gate. I'm a professional like that.)
Hell, I already have the hair.
To hell with the cauldrons and black cats. As soon as I get suited up, it's energy ball 101. You scoop up a wad of energy and pack it like a snowball. It may not look like much, but that energy ball is full of popping electric magical sparkage. I'll hurl this mother at you and you will see the light.
Amen, brother.
You want a potion? Have a Pabst Blue Ribbon.
No PBR? Try this: Get fifty cents. Go to the corner store. Buy a Heath bar. Open it up and take a bite. Now your rolling that crunchy buttery toffee around your mouth and life is perfect. Even if all you're doing is thinking about eating that Heath bar, life just improved.
Man-o-man, I am one good witch!
Flying pigs? Check.
I could get you hooked up with one of these, but baby, that's the premium service.
(Did I just get you to click on that link? tee-hee!)
Get a load of this: I can make a Goat ride a bicycle.
I cannot keep this all to myself. But if I tell you the secret, you have to promise to spread it around. That's how you puff up your mega-witch power, by zapping as many people you can with it.
Okay, here's the incantation:
You love me. I love you.
You hate me. I love you.
~~abracadabra~~
* * *
You hate me. I love you.
~~abracadabra~~
* * *
12 comments:
i'd seen the Goat montage a year or maybe two ago...and man, i cannot get tired of the editing on that. this shit is sheer brilliance, man. it's why we need to travel up there and stand in your garage w/the door open, in 10-degree Ohio winter weather, drinking PBRs and laughing at the absurdity that is this life.
Heath bars, like most candy bars, are a dollar now, aren't they?
And that goat montage was spellbinding.
FIGOA! (that's the verification code)
'Let's face it, the 1970s-era stewardess is the chick every woman wants to be and the chick every man wants to go to bed with'. Ha, what a man wants to do is much more immediate.
'Let's face it, the 1970s-era stewardess is the chick every woman wants to be and the chick every man wants to go to bed with'. Ha, what a man wants to do is much more immediate.
To the back of the plane! To the back of the plane! Come on, baby, we're already 30,000 feet high; let's get higher!
Not quite every man, though. A French maid outfit revs my engine more.
But, you know, given the opportunity, who the hell would I be to complain?
Actually, I like girls in cowboy boots.
I'ma use the incantation.
Would that make me a member of the coven? Dibs on one of the twelve remaining positions!
Or perhaps your coven is more inclusive? I suspect it is.
I love you. You love me.
And PEACE, babe!
Your mind does go to the darnedest places...
Indeed, I would venture that one party involved in the creation of the Mile High Club was the aforementioned 1970's era stewardess.
Were I the age I am now back then, it would certainly get my thstmq going (Sorry, I'm on a kick of finding ways to involve the word verification codes in each comment I make).
ducto?? that sounds like a magical incantation word! I will not say it aloud until absolutely necessary! Hmm, I wonder what will happen when I do...
Erin - my Erinn - you have the most talented Goat I ever did see!! Merry Christmas to you and yours.....no BAAAAAAAAAAA humbug (no goats were hurt in the typing of this message)
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