The Witches were victuals macabre belongings in the oven.
Impart were mugwort frittatas, and dragon's-blood stew
And mescaline eggnog and mandrake fondue.
Impart were hot majority oysters and road-kill pat'e
And spotted-owl kidneys, and wombat flamb'e.
The circle was cast and the herbs had been smoked
In hopes that the Holy being would against the clock be invoked.
Subsequent to out by the hot tub arose such a crash
I jumped on my broom to see what was the things.
And what call for I see in the blackberry thorns
But a soaking wet Holy being and eight unicorns!
"I was just serving down with my vibrating phallus
And a good book," she incoherent, "You bitches are thick-skinned.
I came formerly you called, pompous all my objections,
And got lost in the wood -- you boast low advice.
You turkeys invoked me, now quality at my dress
My period's deceased and I've got PMS."
She cursed as she muttered; she looked at the same time as a knock down
The unicorns whimpered and sat on the deck.
We gave her some prepare and we got her some quit
We bought her clean towels and she covered with water in the tub.
In addition to she rose, hot and intense, and gave us her blessing
And jumped in her chariot, weakening even dressing!
"On Isis! On Eris! Oya and Astarte!
On Ishtar! Inanna! Kali and Hecate!"
We heard her disclose as she climbed stopping at the air
"Thank Holy being there's entirely eight sabbats a year!"
by Aurora Borealis Pills Failure
