Strange Faces Part 7

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“Well, you came to right person” my brother said.

“You’re still a witch, right?  Or a Wiccan, or whatever you want to call it?” I asked.

“ I'm whatever the world needs me to be” he said with a self-satisfying grin. 

 My brother is a modern day witch or Wiccan.  Contrary to popular belief, wiccans don’t worship the devil or practice human sacrifice.  They don’t bathe in the blood of babies or dance naked in the woods.  Ok, maybe some of them still dance naked in the woods, but if that’s what it would take to solve this problem, I think I would rather take my chances.

Where can I find a witch like that?

We asked him to consult on my little problem and he promptly came over, his arms heavy with books.  Unlike in movies, he didn't have to go to some dusty hole in the wall bookshop to get them.  Any spell books or copies of ancient texts could be had at a reasonable price at any Barnes & Nobles.  Usually in the new age section behind the coffee stand. 

“ I'm pretty sure I've got something here that will help”, he said as we exited the bathroom.  Suitably impressed with my lack of reflection he was eager to get started.  To him, this was a chance to move from the shooting range to actual combat.  I wasn't sure how seriously he was taking this, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Settling on my couch, he said “Ok, I'm gonna need some candles, preferably black, salt, plenty of orange juice and maybe some mood lighting if you can manage it.”

“Uh, OK” I said, “Candles we got, salt no problem, not sure about the orange juice though.  What’s that for? You want me to bless it?”

“What? No. What?” he asked confused.

Sancho said, “Don’t ask”.

“ I'm just thirsty” my brother said. “It’s got a lot of calcium.  Good and good for you.”

“Right, right” I said offhandedly.  “Hold on”.

Orange juice.  Apparently, its a magical elixir.

Heading to the kitchen, I opened the fridge and called out, “I got no orange juice, but I got plenty of mountain dew!”

“Yeah, that’s fine, whatever.  Just bring it” he replied.

Returning to the couch, he took the bottle I offered him.

“So,” I asked, “what’s first?”

“Well, first of all we need to---gahhh!”

He spit out the first gulp of soda, saying, “What the hell is this shit?!”

“Mountain Dew.  What’s the problem?” I asked.

“Dude this isn't Mountain Dew.”  Looking at the label, he said, “This thing says Mountain Dewp!”

“What the fuck?”

“Let me see that” said Sancho.

“Yup, its says Dewp.  You've been duped by Dewp”

“Must be a generic brand” I said.  “I bought it at a little corner store downtown.  Guess I wasn't paying attention. “

“There’s a warning label on it.”

“What does it say?” I asked.

Sancho read:

“Warning:  This product manufactured and bottled in Salem, Massachusetts, in possibly close               proximity to dark magic.   May contain FDA approved amounts of evil.  May cause supernatural apparitions.  Do not use if pregnant.  In fact, you shouldn't use this at all.  Throw it away.  My name’s Larry.  They’re keeping us here against our will.  Help! I don’t think John can last much longer.   Wait…they’re coming.

For inquiries, please call 1-888-555-DEWP.”

“Huh” I said. 

“That actually explains a lot” said my brother.

“So what do we do now?” I asked.

Looking me in the eye, Sancho said “Well, call the fucking number.”

JrX