Wednesday, February 21, 2018

CRONES: HEALERS FROM HELL (III)

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Doryce: help my friend. what's wrong with her?

Sally: you know our curses are not just spawned of hate. as a little girl i learned the ways of my people. i learned to adore rocks above people. the Pennsylvanian pebbles, the Quaker runes were quivers of attainment, quaked inside my pelvis. i loved how the Dutch hats looked like the Dutch shoes, had that same curve. the stones controlled me and i yearned to control others with them. you can place a binding spell upon an object of affection as well. it's a rope of love. that's how i snagged my Ben from all his suitors.

Jill: and wife. sounds hateful to me.

Sally: hush. spite is not the same as hate. i spit on your logic.

Sally: he was sexy as hell. with his shirt open all the time. chest hair and chain, that was the fashion in those days, the reporters' room had no air conditioning. but it had conditioning. as a young pup reporter

Jill: bitch reporter

Sally: i scoured for the stories which would please him. it seemed i had spilled a little of that binding-spell juice on my blouse shoulderpad. it gained me confidence, i was a sallow young thing, skinny and demure and frightful, swallowed by my oversize California-tan-colored sunglasses obscuring my mousey face. i was still cute.

Jo: cute as Christmas.

Jamie: but did you love him?

Sally smiles.

Sally: i became a happy homemaker. i was inserted in the Washington Elite that's all i wanted. i hosted events to control events. to my ultimate goal, my attainment. all to plan.

Jamie: it takes a special male specimen to distract our Sally away from girls.

Doryce: i see. well in that case pass the Manebo, the SWA, the scuba set, the Vermont Yellow, the firecracker mix...

Rebecca and Jo: when did you give up?

Doryce: pumpkin-spice popcorn. that's when i gave up on life.

sisters: us, too! they're coopting our thing, the manufacturers.

Rebecca: have you been watching the Olympics?

Doryce: not on that tv.

Rebecca: i like the skiathlon. the alpine chase. when the girls stop skiing and climb up that hill awkwardly over their long skis, that's hilarious.

Jill: i like the double luge. so enticing. entrancing. gets my hackles up.

Jamie: the runbreaker. we have our Sally, our own runebreaker.

Sally: uh, rulebreaker. you know the legends, right?

Doryce: uh............say it again, i often wander at the sight of my best friend speaking.

Sally: Three Runes. control the universe with the lucky three. it's all in the untranslatable grimoires. the Rune of Wisdom. the Rune of Beauty. and the Rune of That Which Cannot Be Named.

Jamie: we all know which one is in our Sally's possession. she has a possessive nature.

Sally: collect all three like Pokémon and you're rich. or baseball cards with bulges i guess. some are scattered throughout the land. of the world. hidden. deep inside. that's the only thing which will cure her. do you have the stones to travel the world?

Doryce: yes. absolutely. of course. oh and please leave me some scribblings on strips so i can read them on the road, pack 'em with some rumble strips. i want some of those binding spells. love binding spells. i have a special fellow in mind.

Jo: paper strips or tortilla strips? this is why i have buck teeth.

Sally: alright, ladies, time to work! we'll try to divine a general area for you so your search won't be impossible. or we'll divine a possible general area. i warn you, without all three Runes it's impossible. and i'm good. i've been trying this for years.

the women eagerly line up shoulder to shoulderpad. they each remove their fluttering fringe blouses and line up their two breasts each along a processional line. making sure all their boobs touch all the other boobs. Sally delicately slides the Sword of Saad inbetween them all like it's on a parade route.

Sally: the Sword of Saad must be touching all ten tits at the same time to glean a vision.

Doryce's eyes widen.

Doryce: and what praytell do you dub this little number, you crazy kids on the loose juice?

Sally: it's an asymmetric spell.

Jill: bitch, speak for yourself. my tits are tops.














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