Phil Penne Creations

#20 - The Wiccan

 

 

        “Aw, come on – it’ll be fun!” 

        Your friend has talked you into this kind of hare-brained thing before. You’re just not the bar-hopping-night-clubbing type. You’ve seen what these places have to offer when it comes to men, thank you very much. All in all, you prefer the company of your cat – at least he’s never stuck you with the bar tab at the end of the evening. 

        “I’m starting to think you don’t want to go out with me! Geeze, do I have B.O. or something?” She giggles, sniffs her armpit, and wrinkles up her nose. “Lighten up, live a little! So the guys out there are jerks – you have to admit, just watching them make drunken asses of themselves is worth the price of a cover charge for the humor value alone. Right?” 

        A line of indecision still lingers on your brow. She looks at you, then plays her trump card. She reaches into the canvas bag she uses as a purse and pulls out a small blue glass bottle. Opening it, she puts a single drop of the musky smelling contents on the tip of her finger and proceeds to touch your forehead, each cheek, and your sternum, all the time saying something about the Goddess, then muttering something unintelligible in what sounds like Latin... 

 

 

 

Sure, your friend is a little on the flakey side. But she has a knack for finding a good time that borders on the supernatural...