Wiccan Minions

The Wiccan Way by the Great and Powerful HeXopatha

(Ed. note: Don’t let the byline fool you. HeXy would no more write a column than the Donald writes his own speeches. But until her apprentice Eira-Lysbyrd earns her broomstick Eira will write the column for her exalted Master and like it. Yet, if you are like me, you may notice that a touch of Eira’s attitude gets through because she knows that her Master never reads the paper–L.A.)

The Wiccan Way by The Great and Powerful HeXopatha

Peasants (aka “people”) have forever been under the impression that Magick is the old fashioned spelling for magic. That is not so.

Magic is the trickery of charlatans; it involves false-bottom boxes, partially clad female assistants, veils, misdirection and a great deal of smoke. Magick is the highest degree of art. Magic is also said to be a component of true love; Magick is what you need when you realize, a bit late, that “true love” and “still desired” do not remain on the same page happily ever after.

I admit that elderly, perhaps dotty Witches often tire easily and need the assistance of fresh blood to convey Magick properly. That is why I have my wonderful, dynamic, irresistible and in all ways brilliant Apprentice Eira-Lysbyrd spread Magick throughout the realm of Saragun Springs. I predict you will be hearing a big noise from Eira, and I suspect soon. Yes, I’m willing to bet my wand on it.

Sometimes, I admit, Magick needs to be carefully watched. Especially in the act of enchanting trees. For centuries, Wiccans have known the perils of enchanting certain trees. For instance, HeX–I mean I, foolishly enchanted an Elm. Elms are the Cats of flora. They can be majestic servants or they can turn on you and be royal pains in the cauldron. Anyway, our Elm, by name Ernie, is often a reliable servant, yet every now and then Ernie will launch spells of his own, such as the recent turning of every other person in the Springs into a Toad. Such events contribute to the gnawing suspicion that I am slipping. Thank the dark forces that Eira-Lysbyrd is here to keep the realm in order.

That’s it for another week, peasants, it’s been an hour since my last nap. Oh, if you happen to come across a three headed Viper, please return her/her/him to the Castle. It is highly recommended that you do so quickly because only Eira has the triple Snake bite venom.

The Great and Powerful HeXopatha

Saragun Verse: Moonfog Madrone (part two)

i

Moonfog Madrone formed a spell

From holy words and threats of hell

It spread across the fallow field

And got inside a church bell’s peal

ii

“Come forth my lovelies the bell sang;

Come home to whence thou sprang.”

And come they did, ghost flowers and trees

Spirits of birds and honeybees

iii

The procession lasted two days one night

The field became a phantasmic delight

Spirit birds sang cemetery songs

In an elysian spring forever long

send the nobel directly to dame daisy kloverleaf, c/o saragun springs, the multiverse

Dear readerly readers, with the bonus rubaiyat section published  in March I have faithfully translated One hundred quatrains of what was at one time billigits’ gibberish in twenty-fively installents of four.

To equal Omar’s hundred from ninety six, I shall nowly now republish the bonus because everyone in the world, save two, missed it the first time.

There will be more rubaiyats in the future–but the next one will be the Rubaiyat of Dame Daisy Kloverleaf, coming sometime this fall (unlike the wee-winged ones, I like capital letters and punctuationally punctuation marks).

You’re welcome.

Dame Daisy Kloverleaf (soon a Nobel Laureate)

The bonus repeat:

i

willie told the billies a tale deep in gin

about a donkey legend named uncle finn

finn was a humble jackass of no note

but when times got tough he busted the wind

ii

finn flew deep into the darkness of hell

he went in and kicked satans belly bell

yet his legendary tasks had gone unknown

until this magic donkey had to tell

iii

people said finn could not do such bravery

donkeys are useless save in slavery

but after many kicks to the scoffers heads

the people admitted their knavery

iv

spread the story across this land of sin

of the bravest donkey that’s ever been

and may all the knaves say out of respect

you’re a better ass than i uncle finn

the rubaiyat of the billigits: part twenty-four (translated by dame daisy cloverleaf) document

i

the billigits live little lives serene

yet i must stifle an evilmost scream

as they mince frolic and gambol too sweet

i resist punching my hoof through the screen

ii

rhyme schemes and ten beats are doing me in

so many better words fail to win

and those soggy syllables weigh me down

them soft to the tongue like being and been

iii

i will be a magic goat (rose and thorn)

and soar far above life’s punch in the horn

and prance and caper and do whatever

it takes to make it big like capricorn

iv

yet i take solace in my workly work

even though i must machete through the jerks

soonly saint of the adverbs I shall be

long before we see peace on earthly earth

the rubaiyat of the billigits: part fifteen translated by dame Daisy kloverleaf

i

willie went out flying one windy night

he sat on a cloud to contemplate life

then he heard somethin big comin his way

a herd of ghost cows with riders behind

ii

willie watched them rush past in the pingshine

a lesser donkey would have lost his mind

but magic willie is made of sterner stuff

the flyin donkey whooped a mighty cry

iii

yippily kai yay yippily kai yo

Iooky at all that good hamburger roll

kai yay yippily kai yo yippily

i will take two double cheesers to go

iv

one of the riders stopped a spelly spell

change your ways son lest you want helly hell

but willie was lost in his own deep thoughts

and said better throw in some fries as well

the rubaiyat of the billigits: part seven

(translated by daisy cloverleaf)

i

On a dark and stormy nightily night

The sea raged with all its mightily might

The billigits stood on the burning deck

Brave and strong they fought the fightily fight

ii

Willie the donkey was big on duty

he put out the fire in their booty

The billies stood as stoic as ahab

Whilst the magic ass covered the looty

ii

Hark and ahoy and avast scurvy scribe

looty as a word is plain silly jive

Odd thing to say to the moving finger

That choosely chooses the drowned and alive

iv

Willie the magic donkey brayed like a loon

That’s because he is a walking saloon

The fire was out and the timbers shivered

And they made port by the rhyme of the moon

the rubaiyat of the billigits part five (translated by daisy kloverleaf)

i

ping is the sun in the Saragun sky

he is up from six to six bringing light

but ping weaves a crookedly crooked path

choosing his own course upon his own rise

ii

the flying billigits launched a query

of which was the type this pen is weary

how does one rhymely rhyme sky light and rise

the pen shook her head all drunk and bleary

iii

ping does go wherever he wantly wants

and yet he never hears your tauntly taunts

orange ladyboy askers grill me no more

about off label rhymes like know it all snots

iv

pong is the moon in this little stanza

he drinks a bit and tokes of the ganga

Billigits claim this verse is even worse

This pen sent them to see Joe Mantegna

The Oz Exception: The Season Finale

At the western edge of Chareslton’s New Town Cemetery lies humble, yet magical Alone Park. Although it is no more than an aged, somewhat forlorn bench (generously slathered with decades of birdshit) in a tiny lot rich with crabgrass, the presence of a non-fruiting Enchanted Cherry Tree makes it special.

Unique occurrences are commonplace at Alone Park. Just a half hour ago, the Volunteer Weekend Caretaker, Gwen Cooper, her Ghost boyfriend, John Mallory (contained inside her phone), and a Pygmy Goat named Fenwick Kloverleaf had passed through an interdimensional vortex that had briefly opened in the trunk of the Enchanted Cherry.

And just a moment ago, the door reappeared. It irised open and out popped a keg and six Black Rats dressed like movers in old movies, complete with little baseball hats. They huffed and puffed the keg down the side of the tree and placed it on the bench. The crew returned to the vortex, hopped in and from inside came the unmistakable, congenial sound of tips being passed out. “Thank you boys, here’s one for you and you and you…”

Gwen Cooper climbed out of the vortex, with her phone in hand. In the realm of Saragun Springs, John has a strange elastic physical shape, but here he only exists in the Caretaker’s Cottage or in Gwen’s smartphone when movement is necessary.

Gwen landed on her feet and gave the keg a happy knock. SARAGUN SPRINGS FAERIE ALE BREWED BY THE PDQ PILSNER CO. OF SARAGUN SPRINGS. BOTTOMLESS.

“I’ll have to get the hand truck to move this,” she said.

Fenwick poked his head out the vortex. “No need,” he said. “Now that it is in your realm, it is even more weightless than a balloon–that is typical of bottomless kegs. The Rats put on a bit of a show.”

Gwen plucked the keg up in one hand. “Amazing.”

Hark reader! You hear a strange noise, like the grinding of gears as this post goes from the past to the present tense…

Right now, John’s face fills the screen of your mind. “Dear reader, today was supposed to be the penultimate chapter of this tale. But Leila got blasted at the party and deleted what might have been the greatest work of genius in the history of literature…”

From off screen, you hear a laugh and a voice a lot like Gwen’s mutter “as if.”

“Anyway,” John says, smiling like a candiate’s better half, “as a great man once said after Lassie plucked Timmy from yet another abandoned well, ‘All’s well as long as Timmy isn’t in it.’ If that quote makes sense in your mind to any degree, then you have been exposed to Saragun Springs much too long, and we encourage you to seek the help of a mental health specialistor nearest liquorcabinet. Before we go, I encourage everyone to remember to put the cream on your scones before the jam…”

Gwen is again heard off screen. “What! Not that again–no wonder you are dead, lover. Too ignorant to live. No live human being has ever ruined a scone that way!”

“Just completing the tale, darling,” John says. “Ending where it began.”

“I see,” says Gwen. “Oh well, just roll the credits.”

The Oz Exception

Starring….

Dame Daisy Kloverleaf/The GOAT

Gwen Cooper

John Mallory’s Ghost

Fewnwick Kloverleaf

Penrose the Flying Weasel

The Great HeXopatha/Renfield/Mari-Kat Lywd (an identity mixture at best)

Pie-Eyed Peety the PDQ Pilsner Pigeon/PDQ Pete

The Woak Grove

Ernie the Evilmost Elm

Sheep up the yingyang

Juan Gee

Professor Moriarty

Beezer and Barkevious the Braw Bros. Baw

One Legion of Black Rats and various minions

The Spring itself

One Conjured Demon

One conjured Bad Pixie

The Interdimensional Vortex

16 Psyche

Pong

Ping

the billigits

“D.O.”

And of course our vast herd of belligerent little Lambs featuring

Tam, Boaby and the other one whose name I forget.

and Leila Allison as the befuddled pen

The Oz Exception has been brought to you by PDQ Pilsner, proud sponsor of the Pushsprings awards–be sure to try the newly acquired Faerie Ale.

Next week will feature an edited novella from long ago, whose excepts first appeared in Literally Stories UK. Then sometime come spring beware of the “rubaiyat of the billigits.” (remember, billies do not use caps). Double beware of a sample of their work coming here tomorrow.

The End

The Oz Exception: Part Twenty-Three

Ah, here we are nearing the end of this minor catastrophe. Soon, the little fellows pushing horseshit wheelbarrows will be the only ones remaining of this peculiar parade. And yet we have endured a long run of strangely turned out events. In that manner, the Oz Exception is pretty much a match for the Universe because the cosmos makes as much sense and has zero story arc; according to the James Webb Space Telescope there’s just more and more of the same stuff,  farther than any eye can see, or any mind to imagine. And yet there’s that measure of Free Will that allows for unlikely changes….

Gwen and John approached Juan Gee from behind. Both were dressed in Oktoberfest garb, carrying tankards of Faerie Ale, and there was a considerable amount of polka music within the chamber.

“Welcome to the Pushsprings Awards afterparty,” said Juan. Whose voice is an awful lot like that of Truman Capote, which, trust me, takes a bit of getting used to when spoken by a Dinosaur.

Peety and Daisy eschewed their Team GOAT costumes and here clad in dirndl and lederhosen.

“What?” I bellowed across the astral plane. “Whose idea was this? What happened to the giant wizard’s head over the boiling cauldron and the chorus of dancing demons?”

“Oh, they’re all here,” said Penorose, who swooped into view. “It’s just that we got tired of waiting for you to spice up the narrative, so we decided to have a party instead.”

“You know about this, Daisy?”

“Yesly, yes–it was my ideally idea.”

I cast about my mind for better ideas that would not cost me too much effort and came up empty. “All right,” I said, “fill a tankard for me.”

End Partly Party Twenty-Three

The Oz Exception: Part Twenty-Two

“As Team GOAT walked through the Witch’s dark castle, uninhabited save for a mouthy Flying Weasel named Penrose, an invisible voice, like that of an unnecessarily hushed golf announcer, who is a hundred yards from the green, spoke incredibly long, needlessly italicized sentences (such as this one) about their doings…”

“That winged Rodent bit of this and that, keeps tailing us?” Beezer said, noticing Penrose’s androgynous shadow cast by torchlight, falling on the stone floor.

“The wee critter got sucked into the gravity of yer behind,” Barkevious said, using his go to insult when he’s unable to think up better.

“You excel at a shit attitude, brother,” said Beezer.

“Hooray for me,” Barkevious said, doing a sarcastic little dance. “I’m number one at behaving like number two.”

Daisy hoof stomped the floor. “Quiet! The readers can’t hear GOAT’s backstory.

“Ah damn, that again,” said the italicized invisible voice. “Anyhoo, GOAT goes inside stories to help out protagonists who are hard against it all. For instance, they entered an old Twilight Zone episode and gave a character who had tragically broken his glasses to an ironic conclusion a new pair, and once they ‘went’ inside a film called The Valley of Gwangi, and actually kidnapped the Dinosaur lead and bring him to Saragun Springs–but his name is Juan G. due to copyright issues….”

“In fact, the crew turned a corner and found Juan Gee guarding a room from which familiar voices flowed…”

“’Who goes there?’ In his transfer to Sargun Springs, Juan reduced in size from being a thirty-foot tall Allosaurus to about five-ten. Still nearly two yards of Thunder Lizard is a lot to suddenly behold when you round a corner in a dark castle. The wind was howling outside and flashes of lightning illuminated the walls through openings in the ceiling.“

“Daisy stopped and looked up in the general diterction that the invisible voice was coming from and said, ‘Are you sayinly saying it’s a darkly dark and stormily stormy night?’”

“The wind sighed and poured herself another drink.”

End part twenty-two