Witch’s Brew

The wrath of a witch second is to none, and more so if she were hungry.

Emma wanted the sandwich. Not just any sandwich. The one with a fluffy white outside and gooey Nutella spread. To open her lunch box at school and to smell hazelnuts – and know she cared far more for it than her teachers story telling voice that was graciously, and forcibly, interupted by the ringing of the bell.

Her mother was having quite the week. Lesson plans needed to be prepared for tomorrow even as she had just finished those for today, the trig tests needed marking, and her husband hadn’t taken the bins out last night – which meant she had to make a sprint this morning in her pjamas to get them out before the garbage truck. She couldn’t have known what switching her darling daughters lunch box with her sons would become, but she soon found out.

Emma thought small. She had taken one look at Jame’s smug face when she got home and so he became a mouse. Then she went about her chores.

When it came time to let in her cat for feeding, her mum arrived home. She called out to her kids to which Emma replied a loud hello, but not James.
Caramel the cat, upon entering the household took one look at Jame’s swirling tail and went for it.

And so ends the tale of how James was eaten by the fluffiest of ginger felines.

No just joking. The cat flew across the floor sliding across floorboards by the fluff of her feet. James, James was hyperventiating under the furthest couch and when claws drew near, he went further still into the metal jungle – just had to have recliner couches he thought to himself.

Emma’s mother had now encountered the basement. Emma was, well this incident aside, a fairly lovely child but her clean-up skills were lacking. Pots of silvery unicorn hairs, love heart shaped clovers, the whiskers of a rodent, sap of hundred year old trees, shavings of timber, and a few repellint scales were all left flopped, smeared and spread about. Worst still, eight-year-old Emma had forgotten to close the book.

Her Father tends to embrellish the story from here: but basically her mother wore her kitchen gloves, shoved her now mad cat Caramel in her room, and took apart the couch. It took three baths of mermaid tears and a handful of corriander but her brother still to this day won’t let Emma forget it, and you should hear how he got her back!

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