Apocalypse Oven had done its usual sterling job at burning my tea, so I opened the back door (opposite AO, in the kitchen) to let the smoke out. As I bent over to see what the infernal thing had done to my ciabatta, something shoved me from behind. And not in the good way.
Well, I stumbled forward, bashing my shin on the open oven door, and steadied myself by slamming my hand down on to the electric ring. Which was on, naturally.
I spun around, wincing as half the skin from my palm was left smoking on the ring, and there in the doorway was the brat in question, looking rather disappointed.
"Why you little..." I began, raising my left hand and pointing my already sparking index finger at her fat little face.
"You're a witch" she said, fearlessly. "I saw your broomstick in the garage."
"I beg your pardon!" Well, I didn't know what else to say. She had me momentarily flummoxed.
"My book says that witches should be pushed into their ovens" the irritating little brat declared. Then an adult hand came into view, grabbing the
"Come along, Lilli" I heard a terse male voice say to her. I stepped out into the back passage to have a look at this errant guardian. The man, her father, I assumed, turned saying "What have I told you about going into other peoples gardens? Hmm?" The girl just pouted. "Let's leave the" and he looked up at me at this point in his, frankly rubbish, telling off of his daughter, his widening eyes mirroring my own, "nice man alone..." he trailed off.
Bloody Hell! He was stunning! I had a Hot Dad™ in my garden! "Oh... ummm... That's OK" I managed to utter, followed by a moronic little giggle. I could just feel the SubCs getting all worked up at his hotness and my ineptitude. Before they could take over and ruin everything, I managed to blurt out: "I'm not a witch. I'm not a witch."
Oh, yeah. Good going Witchface.