A Hexy Thanksgiving

“I don’t know if six turkeys will be enough for all of us. There will be a total of eleven of us with Maggie, Declan, Courtney, Lili and Jared,” Blair said, surveying the kitchen counters covered with roasting pans, mixing bowls, and various pots and pans on the stove. “Trust me, Jake eats a lot. One turkey alone is like an appetizer for him. He’s been banned from every all you can eat buffets in five counties.”

“Excuse me! Hungry gargoyle here who’s also helping.” Horace held up his free claw while the other one made a handy dandy nutcracker for the walnuts he was put to work cracking open.

“And you demolishing the desert table doesn’t have something to do with that? The turkeys are twenty-six pounds apiece. We’ll be fine.” Stasi covered the sweet potatoes with marshmallows and popped them into the hot oven so they could brown.

“You did use cream and real butter in the mashed potatoes, didn’t you?” Irma wandered in with Phineas, her equally ghostly beau, in tow. “It’s what gives them the proper taste. All of that low fat and no fat nonsense will give you the right flavor.”

“It’s a good thing we all have metabolisms that can handle the extra calories and cholesterol.” Blair set the rolls on a cookie sheet to go into the second oven.

“Come on, baby. All you have to do is try it,” Jazz coaxed, leading Nick by the hand into the kitchen. “It’s not that bad.”

“How would you know? Have you tasted it?” The tall vampire followed her with a wary look on his face.

“You can’t give him that!” Blair and Stasi protested, aware what their witchy friend had in mind.

“But this will let Nick feel like he’s a part of the dinner,” Jazz argued.

“A glass of wine is just fine with me.” He started to back out of the estrogen-filled room, but thanks to magick increasing Jazz’s strength, his witch’s firm hold on his wrist wasn’t letting him escape. She used her other hand to pull a container out of the refrigerator.

“I’ve read books where they do additions like this. So why not this?” She dumped the contents in the blender and fired it up. She poured a little bit of the thick mixture into a glass and offered it to Nick who reared back as if she held a ball of fire. “It’s like an iron rich smoothie,” she assured him.

“That smells terrible! What’s in it?”

Jazz looked into the glass but seemed to hold her breath. “Pureed turkey and cow’s blood.”

“That was what you put in our refrigerator?” Stasi cried. “Jazz!”

“It’s not like I put bits of an entire dinner in there.” She held the glass toward Nick who kept backing away with his hands up.

“Wine only.”

Moss green eyes shot sparks in his direction. “Nikolai Gregorivich I made this for you and you will drink it!”

That was when Nick disappeared in the wink of an eye.

“I cooked for you!” Jazz shouted.

May all of you have a fantastic Thanksgiving day.

And Her Little Dog Too!

“What do you think?” Stasi stepped back from the large bay window to better study the display she’d designed for the upcoming holiday. She brushed her hands down her bold turquoise and black skirt that brushed her black high-heeled boots. A softer turquoise cowl neck sweater completed the look. She recently added gold highlights to her brown hair that was pulled back with a black band.

Isn’t It Romantic? was in stylized gold script lettering on the overhanging sign.

Blair also stepped back and peered at the black sheer nightgown with cobweb sleeves draped on a delicate hanger. An ebony glitter half mask was draped from invisible fingers, courtesy of Stasi’s magick, along with black marabou high heels slides. On the other side was a pumpkin orange silk bustier seeming to be slung over an ivory velvet bench. The small vanity table showed several romance novels and a crystal flacon of perfume. Orange gold and black sparkles danced in the display finishing what was a combination of saucy and elegant.

“It’s perfect,” Blair pronounced. “I hope you put away that nightgown for me.”

“And one for me.”

The two witches shared grins, aware their respective shapeshifter and wizard hotties wouldn’t probably allow them to wear the sexy gown for long.

Stasi moved a few steps to take a look at Blair’s display window.  Blair’s love of retro showed strong in her shop, Blast From The Past. She use an old-fashioned fence for the background, putting up vintage pictures of black cats, witches against a full moon, and bubbling cauldrons. Dolls dressed in Halloween costumes filled the window along with a tiny red wagon loaded with teddy bears. A boy doll dressed as a ghost appeared to be pulling it.

“I can’t believe we’re doing it again,” Blair moaned. “Every year we tell them we won’t go with the usual Halloween crap.”

“And every year we give in to Agatha.” Stasi named the mayor’s wife who was a mighty force onto her own. “She’s even worse now that the elves are on her side. They volunteered to run around the town as goblins.”

Blair wrinkled her nose in distaste. “That just means they’ll revert back to their nasty original selves.”

The two witches returned to Stasi’s shop and walked in, immediately heading for the coffee pot in the back. Stasi poured them each a cup of aromatic chocolate cinnamon and brought out the plate of snickerdoodle cookies.

“Oh, good!” Now that food was available, Horace, Stasi’s pain in the butt gargoyle, swooped down to snatch up a treat. His horns practically rotated in orgasmic joy as he gobbled up his cookie.

“One,” Stasi warned him even as he snuck a second.

“Ouch!” Horace glared at Blair as he rubbed his scorched tail. She smiled back and as blew on her forefinger that she used to zap him.

“There you are!”

The witches closed their eyes and muttered a spell for patience as the mighty force known as Agatha Pierce rolled into the store. Her husband, Floyd, might be mayor, but it was common knowledge that it was Agatha that ruled the town.

The woman steamed in like a Sherman tank, her black wool suit sporting a large orange zircon pumpkin pin on the lapel. Chu-Chu, her bad-tempered golden-color Pekinese that resided in a large leather tote. The small dog popped his head over the top and lifted his lip at Horace who snarled back.

“Oh my!” Agatha stared at the gargoyle and moved back as if afraid he’d attack her. “Is that thing …?”

Stasi nodded.

“Did it always …?” She rotated her finger in a silent question about Horace living and breathing and not a statue as he usually pretended to be when anyone else came into the boutique.

Blair nodded.

Agatha patted her beloved pet’s head. “Don’t worry, darling, Mumsie will protect you from that ugly thing,” she cooed.

“Who’re you calling ugly you --!” Horace knew when to quit when he saw Stasi starting to mouth a spell. “I’m gone.” And he was.

“Your book order came in, Agatha.” Stasi moved into the stock room and returned with a bag.

“Thank you, my dear.” She accepted the bag. “Just charge my credit card as always.”

Blair almost choked when she saw the note stapled to the bag before Agatha tore it off. It seemed the esteemed mayor’s wife was addicted to very racy novels. Who knew?

“I am so glad you are participating with our Halloween festivities this year,” Agatha almost gushed. “As always we’ll be having cemetery tours, ghost walks.”

“And won’t the ghosts love that,” Blair muttered.

“It’s not as if they’re real,” the woman insisted then faltered. Even after all this time, she was never sure if the two witches were teasing her or speaking the truth. To date, she never dared ask. “It’s for effect, you understand. The Ladies League met this afternoon and voted on adding a new feature to this year’s Halloween festivities.”

Stasi and Blair’s smiles froze.

“New feature?” Stasi finally found her tongue.

Agatha’s head bobbed up and down, almost dislodging the elaborate curls on her head.

“A play,” she announced.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Blair muttered under her breath, staring to step backwards but Stasi’s grip on her arm didn’t allow her to escape.

“Don’t make me freeze you,” Stasi said grimly.

“What kind of play?” Blair asked, already dreading the worst.

The woman’s smile didn’t falter as she looked from one to the other. “Our own version of Wizard of Oz. After all, we have our very own magickal residents, don’t we?” She patted Chu-Chu’s head as he continued to growl in Horace’s direction. “I thought that Stasi, you could ask your lovely young man to play the wizard, and Blair, wouldn’t Jake make an adorable Cowardly Lion?” She glanced at Horace who was glaring at the nasty tempered dog. “Does it get any taller? Perhaps as the Tin Man? And with you two being wi—“ she paused at the looks of horror on Stasi and Blair’s faces. “Well, being such an integral part of the community you’d wish to be a part of the play. And my own darling Chu-Chu could play Toto.” In response to his name the little darling passed noxious gas.

“Oh euww!” Horace held his nose.

“Agatha.” Blair took one step forward while Agatha wisely took two back. “There is no way Stasi will sport green skin and wear an ugly black gown.”

“Me? What about you wearing it?” Stasi turned on her friend. Her eyes glowed gold with anger.

Sparks of magick shot up over both witches.

Agatha’s eyes widened as she realized staying in the vicinity might not be a good idea. She started backing up even faster.

Just not fast enough.

“Out!” Blair ordered.

“And your little dog too,” Stasi added.

The mayor’s wife whirled around and ran for the door. She barely crossed the threshold when the two witches smiled and held out their hands.

“Ideas in play. Not good to say. Find out what it’s like to be witch for a day!”

A tornado of purple and pink sparks flew through the air and enveloped Agatha. Her screams were loud enough to shatter glass as she was swept up into the air. A few moments later she was gently deposited on the sidewalk.

Except now, her skin was a dark green, a hairy mole decorated her pointed chin and hawk like nose. Her black silk suit morphed into a gauzy gown along with pointy hat and old fashioned high button shoes. Even her designer bag had turned into a broom and Chu-Chu was now even ugily as a monkey flying around her head.

Agatha stared at them with her mouth open. Whatever she planned to say came out as a clichéd cackle. A flash of fury crossed her eyes as she stomped off, broom in hand.

Fellow shopkeepers appeared in the doorways to watch the show and tourists strolling the sidewalk seemed to think it was part of a Halloween show.

“Don’t worry, Agatha, it will be gone by morning!” Stasi called after her, laughter bubbling up.

The moral of the story is don’t assume a witch likes your ideas.