Spectral Christmas gossip

I'm back! My host has been banished to his own subconscious once more.

"Where have you been?" I hear you ask. Even if you're not asking, I'm telling you, anyway.

I spent a most enjoyable festive period (the one without pant paddage) with the Ghosts Of Christmas.

We all spectralised around The Ghost Of Christmas Present's which he shares with The Ghost Of Christmas Future. Ooh, they've got a lovely place. Everything's so modern. Well, it would be what with The Ghost Of Chr - bugger this. From now on its TGOC - istmas Future's special insight. He's always one step ahead in the fashion/design world. He let me have a little go with his insight before some of the others arrived. Judging by some of the presents I'm going to get next year, I know someone who's getting nothing but coal in their stocking for being so cheap and thoughtless (are you reading this, Indescribable?).

TGOC Past was there. TGOC Parallel Universe turned up too but no one spoke to her because she just brags about how good her universe is. We get it! We're the Evil Universe.

TGO Aunty X-mas - She thinks she's in the X-Men because she spells her name like that. You should see her outfit. She robs morgues for clothes like Thelma but without the eye for style and fit. She looks like a new member of the Blue Rinse Brigade at a Tarts & Vicars party. The shame - was slumped in the chair in the corner having been at the cooking sherry.

TGOC Adam very obviously arrived without his wife TGOC Eve. He said she had a headache. I'm not surprised from what I heard. She'd stayed up the night before drinking the entire contents of the stickier bottles from the back of the drinks cabinet. You know the ones: Sloe gin, seven year old Advocaat and that bottle of orange stuff brought back from Corfu in 2002. It's no wonder her kids turned out the way they did.

TGOC Cheer didn't come either. We didn't expect him, not after last years debacle of him trying something new, i.e. The Christmas Mexican Wave. He got up so much momentum that he farted himself through his own arsehole*. Have you seen Alien Resurrection? That scene near the end where the newborn Alien gets sucked out of a two inch hole in the window? Well, it was like that only gassier. I imagine he's dissipated by now...
*Before you say "Who else's arsehole was he going to fart out of, then?", he's something of an anal ventriloquist. He can get in and out of anything what with being a ghost and all.

Anyway, we all had a splendid time playing rummy and gossiping. Apart from TGO Aunty X-mas who didn't stir. Not even when we played that dreadful harlot's All I Want For Christmas Is You at full volume!

Now, I've got to go. It's getting on and the Supernaturals are coming around for a little tete a tete.

* beep beep *

Oh. I've just had a text from TGOC Future. It seems TGOC Cheer has resigned his post and has taken up that of TGOC Meals. Must be because of his current more-than-ethereal state...

Something peculiar coming over me

Oh, Christ! She's back.  

Don't know when I'll get to post agai... zzst tzzppt zsk... 

The importance of being a gossip

I went out last night for a meal and drinks with old college friends. We do this every year between Christmas and New Year as it's the only time we're all in the same county at the same time what with all the parent visiting et al.

It's also a good time to hand out Christmas cards to those people we'd forgotten to post them to weeks ago. I was quite good this year. I only had two to give out having posted the others a week or so before Christmas.

Anyway, L & D turned up and I dutifully handed over their card (I'd already texted L a couple of days before Christmas to say I still hadn't posted it and I'd give it to her at the meal). The last card I had was for C and his girlfriend M. A few minutes later, C arrived and I was rummaging in my coat pocket for said card when I noticed that the girl following him didn't look like M. M had dark hair. This girl was blonde. Maybe she'd dyed it?

Then I saw the girl's face. She was not M.

Shit!

C had a new girlfriend and I wasn't told! I turned to L and said "That's not M. Who in Christ is she?" It turned out that C & M had split up in August. August! And that C was now with B and had been for the last two weeks. Bugger. I couldn't very well give C & B the card that said to C & M so I didn't say anything - luckily I hadn't sent a text to C saying I had a card for him.

Anyway, the evening progressed successfully. No arguments, no fights, no raucousness. All in all very civilised. We ended up in a pub not far from the restaurant where we all relaxed and mingled and met other halves.

Then I heard my name mentioned in the same sentence as card. My head snapped around and I saw C looking straight at me.
"Have you got a card for me?" he said.
"No."
"So you haven't got a card for me in your pocket?"
"No. I must've left it at home."
"You're sure you haven't got a card for me and my girlfriend on you?"
At this point I turned slightly and glared at L. I might have known she'd say something.
"Did you tell him?" I asked her indignantly.
"Well, yes." I rolled my eyes. "I gauged the humour of the situation and decided that C & B would find it amusing. Especially seeing you squirm!" Then they all laughed at me.

Cow!

The moral of this story is to gossip. For all you're worth. And keep in touch with your friends, I guess. Although, any one of them could have sent me a text letting me know C & M had split up. Or told me about it when I last saw them or spoke to them on the phone. From now on, whenever I speak to one of them, I'll be asking for any gossip. If there isn't any, I'll make some up so they can repeat it at the Christmas/New Year meal and look stupid instead of me.

Gits.

How VERY festive!

Good news. Colin & Justin won Celebrity Stars In Their Eyes - despite the fact they were Robson & Jerome and (thankfully) didn't sound anything like them. Who would've thought that Colin had such a deep, powerful singing voice. I wonder what else he's hiding? Lucky Justin...

This is what the festive period is all about.

Ding Dong the Witch is Dead?

Well. I've managed two posts (three if you include this one) without that interfering old baggage poking her nose in. If only I had the time and inclination to rummage through my thoughts and get at least one good one stapled down into this blog.

I wonder where she's gone? She obviously didn't need my body as she's left it here - and not in a particularly good state. She's so messy. It needs a bath and a shave. I guess I'll get on with it then.

I don't do Christmas, but for any of you who do, I hope you enjoy yourselves (no sarcasm intended).

Just a quickie

I have finished the Christmas shopping - sighhhhhhhhhh...

I have also been biting my inside right cheek. I don't know why. Every time I accidently catch it again, it gets more swollen which makes it even more of a target. Other than not talking or eating I don't know what else to do?

Oh, Colin & Justin were as hilarious as always last night.

That's all.

* unknown title * - I mean, what is there to say?

I hadn't realised it'd been so long since my last post. 10 days! How slack...

I should have no end of interesting tales to regale you all with. Unfortunately, I've forgotton them all (if they were even true). I read somewhere - possibly Kellycat's blog - that most blogs aren't updated after three months. They fail. Fail! Fail!

I don't want mine to fail. I'm just very busy at the moment. Really. And not with despicable Christmas stuff. That all smacks of Bah, Humbuggery!

Well, back soon, I guess... Obviously can't do any more now because Colin & Justin are about to grace the small screen! Yay! They're such nice boys...

Of missed dates and mistakes - not mine, obviously...

Phew... What a weekend. After downing 4 out of the 6 boxes of French Fancies to take away the taste of that fat little kid who'd been hanging around the house, I was on such a sugar high that I got absolutely loads done and didn't have time to post about meeting the Supernaturals.

Who am I kidding! Yes, I did eat the French Fancies (and the kid - roasted, with a selection of seasonal vegetables) but felt so bloated and sick that I just slobbed around and did shit all. I didn't meet the Supernaturals either. I'd got the date wrong - Going tonight instead.

In fact, I must clear up the kitchen in case any of them come back tonight. They frown upon the devouring of small children and so wouldn't appreciate a draining board covered in bones (I was going to hang them in the cherry tree out back so the birds could peck at them - and hopefully get a taste for them so they'd finish off the rest of the little bleeders in the neighbourhood) and a large pyrex jug full of drained and strained fat.

- BUH-UUURRP! - Excuse me...

Mentalism. Or, A Tale Of Two Cities

I feel I should explain myselves (as inspired by a comment by Wyndham - I did it! I did it! I ceated a link that works. Watch out Bloggers, here I come!)

I, being the witch Inexplicable DeVice, dropped into this body, being the young man - 

What's your name again? 

dzzvtvvt! 

Oh, yes

 - a couple of months or so ago. If I'd known he'd be so contrary, well, if I'd known he'd be a he, I would've dropped into someone else. If only I'd had time to do some research. Unfortunately, time was a luxury I didn't have when I had to leave my original body. Now I'm stuck with this disobedient, smart alecky -  

I sound like who?

 zzgtzs sskzzzzs 

Agnes who?

 sskzzzzs 

Skinner? From a cartoon?

 zzt tsszzgt

 How dare you! Mmph...

 sszpt 

I am *NOT* like her!

 - Sorry about that little interruption. He has a high esper rating and a formidable aperception quotient which is challenging to say the least. He tends to "come through" quite often, especially when I'm drifting or emotional. In fact, I think he's written some of these posts himself. Looking back at the content, I'm sure I wouldn't have posted such banality. For that matter, looking around the kitchen leads me to believe that he had his own agenda when we went shopping the other day. I can see six boxes of French Fancies. Six!

Hmmm... I can't remember where I'm going with this. I'll come back later. Unless I'm busy. I'm supposed to be meeting the Supernaturals this evening... That Naked Knight has a lot to answer for!

What about fish? I 'ate fish

I was going to post something frightfully interesting but I made the mistake of reading my previous post.

I thought I'd written: "And I accidently torched my heliostat and the packet of haddock I always carry"...

Incendiary DeVice

This afternoon I opened a Hell Portal on my way back from work. Unfortunately, I didn't check my mood first...

A raging fireball tore across the city, radiating outwards from my position. Great gouts of flame spewing from the pulsating fissure. Huge swathes of sulphurous fire blasting into the evening sky.

Whoops. Sorry.

At least I was warm and that's what counts, right?

Oh. And I accidently torched my heliostat and the packet of hemlock I always carry.

Bugger.

Update: It's just been pointed out to me that this could be misconstrued as poo-air. It is not. I don't do that kind of thing. After all, I'm a very respectable (ahem) witch...

Creation

Aaarrrrggghhhhhh! I forgot to get the washing out of the infernal machine. And I've been reminded by my sister, Inexcusable (the other one), that it's her fiance's birthday soon. Yet another present to buy. Yet more money to spend. Yet more frustrating trips around the city looking for something suitable amongst all the hideous tat.

Why don't I just use magic to get him a present and do the washing and create more money etc? Because it's too bloody complicated! You need to be a sourcerer to just create things from nothing. I could manage the washing, though, because I have all the raw ingredients such as water, washing powder, the infernal machine...

- pop -

There. Washing's done. Now I just have to have some idea of what to get the future brother-in-law with precious little currency...

Oh, and Honeytom's posting again. Have a look, do.

How to keep warm

I was walking - yes walking, using my own legs - to work this morning, on the verge of freezing solid when I had a fabulous idea. Why not engulf myself in the Fires of Hell to keep warm? Everyone knows that witches and gays are going straight to Hell so why not start now and get used to it?

So I did.

I opened a portal, knowing that most humans wouldn't see the flames - well, they only see what they can comprehend, luckily - and basked in Hell's warming glow as I perambulated into the city (I've always wanted to use that word:perambulated). Having been there a couple of times, I knew where in Hell the best flames could be found.

I did get an odd look from one of the Demons that works in Norwich Union, who was walking on the other side of the street, but I ignored it - it was only jealous that I'd thought of the idea first.

- pzzt . . . szszppt . . . susuzpptszz . . . pzz ... -

Oh.

I've just been told that gays can't open portals - zzst . . . psszzt! - Sorry. Gays can't open Hell portals. It seems other types of "portals" are perfectly accessible to the average gay... Well, for any that are interested: next time I'm in the Castle (the pub, not the big building that overlooks the city) I'll be doing a demonstration on how to open your very own gateway to Hell so you too can keep warm in these cold, dark times.

And, I'm still seeing things that are really there (see last post) - it's really off putting. I shall be having words...

Bugger! I mean Lawks...

I don't think the transition is going well. I'm seeing things that are there. I mean really there. Things that shouldn't be seen.

For example, just now, the ghost of the spider I accidently sucked up the vacuum cleaner yesterday just ran across my my chest and arm.

This isn't right.

I think my host is rejecting me. He is so contrary and stubborn.

I must do something about this...

Paraselene in obscurity

After rereading that last post, I realised how tired I must have been while writing it. It's appalling. I wanted to expand on the details, embellish the descriptors, magnify the whole experience. The Hallowe'en experience should have been nothing less than paraselene!

What a load of old guff, eh?

I'm off to read a good book while soaking in the bath...

What the Naked Knight said

As it happens I have nearly an hour to recount what was said. There's bloody football or somesuch on - I was going to watch Colin & Justin. Ha! I bet you thought I had a life. Sorry to disappoint you.

Hopefully you'll remember that I "gave a lift to" a very light travelling man whilst on my way to see my sister, Indescribable DeVice, on Hallowe'en. This is what he told me...

It seems Witches were phased out years ago to make way for the Superhumans. Then they themselves were phased out but are making a very discrete comeback - ignore the Moving Pictures, Naked Knight said, they're fiction - but need some assistance.
My Naked Knight as it turns out, is part of a small group of Supernaturals, as they like to be known now. He asked me if I'd like to sign up!

Well, I'd never heard such nonsense in my life. And I told him so. Supernaturals indeed. For a start, I said, even if I did believe his story, I just don't have the time anymore. I've had to get a job to earn money to survive. Long gone are the times when just being a witch would get you a free cottage, free clothes (albeit hand-me-downs) and all the free food you can shake a wand at. Not to mention respect - look at those little buggers earlier who were trying (quite literally) to eat me out of house and home! Work keeps me occupied for a third of the day. Then there's sleeping. That's another eight hours lost. When am I going to get time to go haring around the country fighting Supervillains etc?

That's when he burst out of his (my) clothes.

My hand went to my throat as I gasped and stared. It appears he was telling the truth about him being a Supernatural. He'd only gone and generated some psychic armour that was too big for his (again, my) clothes to stretch around.

There he sat, looking smug in his slightly glowing, translucent armour. Me being me, recovered too late and ended up looking a bit stupid as I sniffed and turned away slightly, my nose in the air.

Eventually, we got to talking again. It seems he was on a training exercise with the dragon-thing, when he knocked himself out. The dragon-thing was carrying him home (which explained the claw marks on his shoulders) when I disturbed her. She wasn't expecting her airspace to be populated by a domestic witch and reacted by trying to torch me. Apparently, the half formed Scathing Poker Curse made her drop him and by sheer luck, he landed on my broom.

I told him I'd have to think about joining his little club. Then he suggested that we "meet up" when I'm available to "get me used to things". Cheek! I knew what he was after. If only he wasn't so... so... arrogant and sexy. Something stirred inside me and it wasn't a spoon.

Ooh. Must go. I've come over all queer.

The Seven

The Seven is a team of, funnily enough, seven Supernaturals, whose members at this point are: Knight, Warlock (me, the witch Inexplicable DeVice), the Lady, Blacksmith, Dragon, Seer and Wraith.

It's not like that in real life

I was forced to go to the moving pictures last night to see the horror that is Harry Potter. I was determined not to enjoy it, as having moaned about it but never actually experienced it, I couldn't be seen to go back on myself. I needn't've worried. It was rubbish.

For a start, no one I know can go that fast on a broom without succumbing to horrendous wind chill burns. And what's with those wands? How on earth do they manage to contain all that thaumatalurgical energy? Mine can barely hold enough to displace a small car (although it is a very old design). And lastly, who in their right minds would allow children access to such power. They can barely hold in their hormones, never mind anything else!

- muffled thump... slurp -

Bugger! Those bloody kids are back. Hang on...

- scrape... "Clear off. It's not made of cake, you know" ... bang... "ow"... screeeech... lick, lick, lick "urgh"... "fuck off"... "I heard that!"... Zzzzap! -

There. That's got rid of them!

Now I've got no time left to resume the recitation of what happened on Hallowe'en, never mind my rant about Harry Potter. Bloody kids. Actually, it's mostly my fault. I should never have left that stone cladding up that looks like gingerbread...

Overweight stalker?

Is it possible to be in-morbidlyobese-uated with someone? I hope not. Being infatuated is quite enough.

I'm not a stalker, really. This is just a hypothetical question. Well, there's a slight possibility of stalkerish tendancies if it wasn't so cold out and my eyesight was a bit better.

Eeeeek!

I've just realised I've made a spelling mistake of the inexcusable kind on my last post. You've got a week or so to point it out to me before I put it right.

If no one can spot it then I won't tell you what my Naked Knight (as he is now affectionately known) told me on Hallowe'en. I know you're all just bursting with curiosity. I can tell by the amount of comments I've received on the subject. Ha Ha (and not in a funny way).

I do mean to update this thing more often but the Demon Box makes my eyes go funny - I quite often end up squinting up my own nostrils... And I've been busy, too. Really I have. All to do with Naked Knight, actually. And no, not in that way!

Invisibility

Now, just because I'm a witch doesn't mean I'm fictional and therefore invisible.

Take this morning, for instance. I went swimming as I am inclined to do twice a week. Not naked in some lake on the heath. And certainly not under a full moon. I'm a witch, not a bloody stupid fool! There's a reason why people catch hypothermia.

Anyway, back to this morning. There I was swimming up and down the local pool, large as life and twice as ugly - well, I've got a coldsore - perfectly happy. Two people get in and start to barge their way through the water as if they had a personal grudge against it, heading directly for me. I couldn't get out of the way because I was already at the side of the pool. Not that I would have, of course. I don't give way to anyone unless I can possibly help it. At the last moment, they realised there was something other than water in their way. Me!

I was obviously invisible from the time they got in to the moment they saw my stern visage two inches from their noses. Luckily for them they diverted course... Then, as I was adjusting my goggles in the shallow end, I saw this silly old bint (who's a regular) get in. I knew from past experience that she liked to swim along the side as I was doing. However, I thought that, as I was already there and the two idiots previously mentioned were right next to me, she would swim in the middle of the pool where there was plenty of room. But no. I had obviously become invisible again. How tiresome...

In fact, my invisbility was so perfect that as I was about to push off to start another length, the daft old bat waded right in front of me and began swimming incredibly slowly down the pool. She was lucky I restrained myself or I would have smashed right in to her bony old carcass. By this time I'd had just about enough so I pushed off violently, submerging head first, my legs breaking the surface like a whale's fluke before smashing down in to the water right next to her mouldy, wrinkled face. I knew she didn't like to be splashed but could only imagine the look on her face - like a puckered up cat's bum - as I glided serenely away underwater.

And then, this afternoon, as I was walking home, I managed to become invisible yet again. I racked my brain trying to think when I'd deliberately cast such a spell but couldn't recall an instance recently. I was forced to swerve several times to avoid common people. They just kept coming at me. I stood my ground for as long as I dared but when it became obvious that they hadn't seen me, I had to move lest they came in physical contact. Shudder! If I wanted that I'd go to Next during the sales.

Rant over.

I was going to let you know what my naked passenger told me, but had to get this off my chest first. I've already gone on far too long so will tell you another time.

Knight of the Witch (part III - Will this be the third and final part?)

...Continued from Knight of the Witch (part II)

 The journey back was almost free of incident, which made a nice change. The flying creature had disappeared somewhere. Probably terrorising suburbia... My "passenger" remained unresponsive to several more jabs in the ribs and a headbutt to the small of his back. The headbutt was an accident, of course. It was! I was almost home when a gigantic moth flew straight into my open mouth, practically forcing its way down my throat. Naturally, I reared back in surprise losing my handhold and smashed the back of my head into his spinal column. Immediately I swung forwards, narrowly avoiding severe whiplash, and hacked up the furry thing, spitting it over my left shoulder. Bleugh! I can still taste it now...

 Lightly grazing the cherry tree on the landing approach - some might say "crashing through" but they weren't there so they can't comment - I persuaded the broom that a controlled skid on the lawn was much less damaging than careering into the raised patio. The naked man rolled off and ended up facing the night sky. I was going to avert my eyes but the blanket had rolled with him, a corner of which was just about covering his indecency.

 I was wondering whether to gather up him or my bags first, when he moved. Hooray! I hadn't killed him! Stooping next to him, my hand on his (rather impressive) chest, I leaned in to ask if he could move. Without warning, he grabbed my wrist and leapt to his feet, the blanket falling to the grass... Naturally, I looked. And kept on looking. Gosh!

 "Aaccchhh" he said. What?

 "Hoccchhhh" he added. What was he trying to say?

 "Haaackk". Then I noticed what looked like dust around his mouth.

 Drat. I'd spat the moth straight into his mouth and now he was choking on it. The landing must have wedged it further down his throat. I didn't know the Heimlich manoeuvre so I did the only thing I could and punched him in the stomach. The now damp moth rocketed out of his mouth as he doubled over and hit me square in the forehead. A man can have too much of moist ejecta hitting him in the face, you know...

 My "guest" straightened up, realised he was starkers and covered himself using both hands. He really needed three so you can imagine how pleased I was that evolution had seen fit to supply humans with only two!

 Anyway, to cut a long story short, I ushered him in the back door (no innuendo intended - witches never use the front door. Except to torment travelling salesmen), gave him a cup of tea and some clothes that he only just squeezed into. Not on purpose - he was very fit and I'm only slender. After we'd both relaxed in each others company for a while and I'd hinted at how he got to mine, he told me something rather interesting.

 I think that maybe being a witch in this day and age might be rather exciting. I'll tell you what he said another day. Suffice it to say that the "Knight of the Witch" title will make more sense...

 Ta ta for now!

Knight of the Witch (part II)

...Continued from Knight of the Witch (part I)

 Lawks! She was a right one. She can't be the Avon Lady, I thought. She looked like she'd dragged herself out of the swamp. She didn't half pong, too! To top it off, her eyes pointed in different directions and she had not so much a boil as a steadily simmering vat of pus on the side of her nose.

 Anyway, in an unusual moment of feeling emotion (I think it was empathy but could quite easily have been contempt), I let her in and bought a few pots of her greasy chemicals. An hour later, she'd got most of them on her face. After I'd seen what the liquid foundation did to the carpet after I accidently dropped it, it wasn't coming anywhere near my delicate skin, so I daubed it on her.

 She still looked hideous but at least that vile smell couldn't escape from her rather large pores. Actually, I dropped a tub of eye cream into a pore the size of a teacup but couldn't face reaching in to retrieve it.

 I digress. I'm supposed to be relating the tale of falling men. Did I mention the man in question was naked? No? Oh. He was naked.

 "Oof" he said as he landed face down across the broom. His was the only moon visible in the overcast sky.

 "Eeek" I replied while scrabbling for my luggage. My heart was in my mouth. As was my stomach, liver, kidneys and one lung - I've got a big mouth. I swallowed and exclaimed "You didn't half give me a fright". Silence. Hmmm... "I say, are you alive back there?" More silence. I did the only thing a curious witch should do in the circumstances: poked him. Hard. In the ribs. He gave a muffled grunt but didn't move. Bugger.

 At this point I had a decision to make. Did I tip him off the broom - well, who was I to interrupt his journey earthwards, albeit a terminal one - and carry on to Indescribable's? Or, did I turn around, try and evade the unknown flying creature and take him back to mine? Funnily enough, the decision was quite an easy one. Turning up at Indescribable's with or without a naked, unconscious man was tantamount to suicide. I couldn't remember the reason for going to hers in the first place. So, that left going back to mine. With a naked, unconscious man.

 Now, before you start: I HAVE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE!

 As it was a bit nippy out, I pulled a blanket out from under the bags, knocking the melted Tupperware off the broom. Oops. Then, looking down, I realised it was only Swaffham that we were passing over and pushed the French Fancies off as well. I managed to get the blanket over the man, having to tuck bits of it underneath him to stop it blowing away. It was only then that I noticed what a fantastic body my unresponsive passenger had, aside from the scratch marks on his shoulders. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all!

To be continued in... Knight of the Witch (part III)
 

Knight of the Witch (part I)

 I know it's three days after Hallowe'en, but what a night. Or should I say Knight...

 There I was minding my own business, 350 feet up, slightly damp (the broom had been playing up again and wouldn't gain any more altitude so I was skimming the bottom of the clouds - I couldn't fly any lower because the damn thing kept stalling. Needless to say it hasn't been serviced yet...), wondering if it was worth flying all the way to my sister's, when out of the blue - well, out of the black - came this creature.

 Honestly, I nearly lost my lunch. Good job I didn't swerve or my Tupperware box would've plummeted earthwards spreading tuna sandwiches over half the county. Actually, they weren't just tuna sandwiches, they were tuna and paprika with ramiro peppers in ciabatta. I won't eat any old common muck, you know! It was at that moment that I decided to get some sort of rack or netting fitted to the broom to keep all my baggage safely on board. Well, that's a lie. At that particular moment I thought "SHIT! What in Christ was that?"

 Steering the broom with one hand and clutching on to my luggage with the other, I managed to stabilise my somewhat erratic flightpath. Peering through the cloudy gloom I caught a glimpse of the creature as it disappeared into the cloud above me. An ear-splitting screech filled the night air, followed by a gout of flame that vaporised the cloud around me. Smelling toast, I swivelled on the broom and saw my ciabatta, blackened and dripping molten plastic. To make matters worse, some of the melted Tupperware had dripped on to my French Fancies. Only the pink ones were left unscathed. Which was a bugger because I preferred the yellow and chocolate ones.

 There was nothing left to do but curse. So I did.

 Summoning up one of the lesser known variations of Gammer Hotley's Scathing Poker curses, I let rip in the general direction of the winged creature only to be rudely, and somewhat heavily, interrupted.

 By a falling man!

* ding dong *

 Ooh, there's the doorbell. Must dash (or beard, take your pick), it's probably the Avon lady. I'll finish the story soon...

To be continued in... Knight of the Witch (part II)
 

Ignore most of that last post

 The Demon Box seems to have righted itself over night. If only humans could do that. Most of the ones I've encountered need some serious righting. I imagine you just need to know which buttons to press but flailing madly also seems to work. Well, it does for me. As long as I flail confidently... Thank goodness no one was watching!

 I would write more but, quite frankly, have nothing to say that isn't about me so I'll leave it for now.

I did it!

I'm a technological genius! I created a link. By myself! Yay for me - I mean, splendid.

In fact, I managed it twice. I could go again but can't be bothered...

Although, for some inexplicable reason, I seem to have lost the first three posts somewhere. Or, the fourth post is in the October Archive. How can this be? It's still October isn't it? I'm too tired to try and sort this out now. Technological Genius-ing is hard work.

Fat or Flight

This modern witch business is great! I've acclimatised to this world now and found a way to fly without the darned broom.

I drank the fat of an un-baptised boy. I must admit, I was surprised at how many there are about...

Before you go running for the local constabulary, I paid for the liposuction and the boy is unharmed. Well, I say unharmed. I was a bit eager during surgery and accidently nudged the suction device in my impatience causing it to suck up some of his small intestine. It was like watching a sausage maker in reverse!

Anyway, all's well that ends well. The boy's happier with his slimmer figure - although he won't be eating solids any time soon. And I don't have to rely on the broom so much - which is just as well as it's got to go in for a service next week and I can't find an authorised repair shop anywhere.

Witch in the machine

Well, I think I'm getting the hang of things. Slowly.

After spending an eternity rumaging around in the insides of the Demon Box, I believe that I'm getting closer to understanding the point of all this (not the point of ALL this, life/existance and the like).

I came across a most peculiar site while rumaging. It is called Glitter for Brains. Have you heard of the like? Glitter? For Brains? It seems I have a lot to learn about biology in this world. Anyway, although peculiar, it is very entertaining and I shall be visiting it regularly if I can find my way back - I'm terrible with directions! It's a shame I can't tie the broom into this Demon Box creation as it's auto pilot has a better memory than mine. Tragically, the broom's systems aren't compatible. I think it's because it's 900 years out of date...

I understand that the proper protocol is to show this Glitter for Brains place as a link or somesuch. No doubt I'll be spending the next several days trying to do just that!

Eek! What in Jebus am I doing?

I don't know how you humans work these infernal machines. Don't you need at least another ten percent of your brain working? Or two more fingers?

I'm on the verge of giving up. Which would be a shame as I've got some intriguing gossip about my sister, Indescribable DeVice. That'll have to wait until another time. At least until I get the hang of this... this... Machine!

Phew... This is more taxing than I anticipated.

Inexplicable DeVice