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Saturday, June 30, 2012

12: Simon's Solo Story: Which Witch Is Which

Not much to say about this one, except that it involves caricatures of Lucy and Ethel from one of the best-ever television shows I Love Lucy. I have watched every episode and it is probably the only television show in which I actually learned who the writers were some 10 years before I even thought I could write. I also used Adam Ant in the story... or rather a version of the group Adam and the Ants. I needed the 'S' in Ants, as well as the "A" in Adam. Gods, I hope you have figured out what that spells when you mix up the letters.
Oh, and for a woman named Isobel Gowdie that Lucille had not yet met in 1647, you can see who the heck she is HERE.
Why the hell I knew about her in the days before the Internet or while living in Japan and without the benefit of an English Encyclopedia, I have no idea, but I somehow pulled that one out of my you-know-what.
He's a witch! Burn him! 
On with the story.

Chapter 1             Chapter 6              Chapter 11
Chapter 2             Chapter 7
Chapter 3             Chapter 8
Chapter 4             Chapter 9
Chapter 5             Chapter 10

Simon's Solo Story: Which Witch Is Which
chapter xii

Hi, it's me, the Writer, again. Since I figure that turnabout is fair play, I've decided to include one of Simon's solo tales.

As you are aware, these stories are but a drop in the proverbial bucket when it comes to detailing the complete lives and times of Simon and Billy.

This particular adventure also ties up a loose end that I noticed after re-reading some of the other stories. Sometimes I forget things... after all, I am only human. At least as far as I'm currently willing to admit.
A thick and heavy white mist rolled across the Scottish mountainside. Although covered with heather and clover, they are extremely immaterial to this story.

Lucille McClair was a blushing bride of six months. Her husband, typically named Angus, was always mucking about in the bogs, digging burnable peat for the warming of the house, but to Lucille, it was just him mucking about and coming home smelling like a bog.

Despite Angus' best intentions, if he had asked the house, it probably would have stated that it didn't really care for the warmth, that it preferred the cool, damp weather even though it was bad for its wood. Although, since no one ever talked to the house, except for a crazy old woman named Electra McShave, this is all pure conjecture.

Electra, in case you were wondering, talked to the house because she believed it to be the spirit of a man who would not be born for another 300 years. This man would die painfully after accidentally electrocuting himself with a straight razor. By a bizarre twist of fate, the leather strap on that straight razor came from a deer that would be killed by a car driven by a tanner, That tanner's mother's sister's son-in-law would one day rent a room to a man who had once been a Scottish home. Some other Scottish home - not the one that's in our story. That, is why Electra was crazy. There was no spirit in Lucille and Angus' house.

This all has nothing to do with the story, but it is interesting to note the way it adds to the confusing nature of the Writer's attempted style of story-telling.

 Life for Lucille was very blasé. Even though it is a 'French' word (sounds like 'blah-zay') and Lucille had never seen France, she knew that was how she constantly felt.

Angus, besides digging peat, also like to brew whiskey that made him function at half-speed every night. This left Lucille very angry and sexually unsatisfied.

She decided to have her cake and eait too by plotting her revenge on her callous(ed) husband.
By a strange coincidence  - or not, if you've been following the story - Lucille McClair's best friend Ethel McSpam lived next door. Now 'next door' is a bit of a misnomer, as the farms in Scotland were a 20-minute walk apart. Still, it was as next door as it was going to get in 1647.

Ethel, too, was an unsatisfied housewife, who would one day owe a favor that would one day be collected by a young would-be rock and roller in the now-Mexican territory of California who possessed a variation of the name her current husband now had.

Unbeknownst to her, her sexually unsatisfying husband William was a restless spirit who followed a Hinduistic approach to the Christian view of reincarnation courtesy of a seemingly spiteful and toothy god. Of course, William didn't know this either.

Knownst to Ethel, was that William was a lazy blacksmith who believed in sex for procreational purposes only. They did not have any children.

This left Ethel lonely and incredibly horny.

A plot was quickly plotted by her wacky redheaded neighbor.
Lucille's idea revolved around a woman she had not yet heard of named Isobel Gowdie, who lived in nearby Auldearne. She was a witch who consorted with demons and the devil to satisfy her sexual starvation.

While this was shocking to the somewhat prudish Ethel, she went along with Lucille's similar plan because, procreation be damned, she would like children.

Besides... Lucille had a way of convincing her that even the most ludicrous plots were feasible.
Now (or then, if you prefer), it just so happened that while the two were sitting under a pinkish white blossoming tree, a young man atop a steel grey charger rode toward them. He bade them a good afternoon, and fell of his horse with an undexterous florish.

He told then his name was Adam Ants, which they would have found quite silly if they had only known about the state of British music in the 1980s.

Mr. Ants told them he was a high priest of a local witches coven called Humber for reasons known only to the Writer.

Lucille was entranced by this fast-talking stranger, and soon she and Ethel found themselves willing witches engaged in all manner of sexual perversion for the enlightenment of the almighty libido.

Those acts continued unabated for years every afternoon between 1PM and 4PM at Mr. A. Ants small chalet next door to the local church. Since it was next door, it probably explains why it was considered local.
Then, without warning, after two years of sexual bliss, Lucille suddenly felt a twinge of guilt at cheating on her husband, and began to cry.

Ethel, hearing her neighbor cry incredibly loudly, rushed over to see what the matter was. twenty minutes later, she too, began crying when she saw Lucille cry. She had no idea why she was crying, but Ethel was a firm believer that misery loves company.

After a few minutes of blubbering, the now/then red and puffy-eyed Lucille said she felt guilty at cheating on Angus, and that she wanted to go to the local church, next door to Adam Ants' love shack, and confess her sins to good Father Filch. Actually, she said that she felt guilty because all of the sex with Mr. Ants was doing nothing to help them gain revenge on their husbands. However, on the plus-side, it did get rid of that nagging itch each possessed. On the downside, another type of itch had begun to fester deep within their souls.
Father Simon Filch was a good man thought Lucille, hence Lucille's previously mentioned moniker of him. He listened to the woman's fanciful tales of sexual degradation over and over again until he had made sure he could fully visualize it in his head. He told them that it was good that they had come to see him to seek absolution.

However, he also told them that they were a tad too late. He explained that all of the local people excluding, by a stroke of luck, their husbands, had already heard of their consorting with the devil. They were up in arms about it and had demanded that they be burned at the stake as evil witches of the most foul order. 

Lucille and Ethel were stunned. They had told no one about their sexcapades, except for maybe Rose, and Viv, and Ann, and, oh yes, Mona. Surely they would never tell anyone. After all, they were sworn to secrecy.

Father Filch said, "Afraid you're wrong", and stood aside revealing the entire town which had been hiding single-file behind his back. The villagers screamed for their deaths. What could good Father Filch do? He had to acquiesce.

Father Filch told the rabble that he would do what needed to be done, and shooed the rabble away, who went back to the peat bogs to rabble amongst themselves.

Father Filch had a fondness for redheads, and offered Lucille a chance to escape. Eventually this offer was extended too Ethel, too, despite possessing blonde or grey or silver hair - it was always difficult t o tell with Ethel.

In the fine manner of what a few Sicilians would adopt into their family ritual, he made them promise that should he need them - whenever he needed them - they must help him with no questions asked.  Each promised eagerly.

Later after disguising the ladies and sending them on their way to a new life in a new village aboard a small horse cart, he kicked himself for not exacting sexual favors like they were used to giving.
Somewhen in a place not surrounded by a white mist, the grinning 2-Footer let loose a deep guttural snarl from behind his gleaming teeth.
Good Father Simon smiled to himself as he went into his confessional to pray to God to forgive his weak human emotions.
The grinning 2-Footer chortled with glee at the delicious irony of it all.
Six hours later, he went to the back of his church and slaughtered a pair of pigs he was breeding for the Scarborough Fair that would be held two centuries later. He then burned the pigs in a fiery pyre. Still later when the local rabble came back to rabble with each other and to see if he had done the job, he showed them the pig skeletons. They quite naturally believed that the skeletal remains were that of Lucille and Ethel because they had always suspected that witches weren't human.
Several years later, good Father Simon Filch and William McSpam were killed in a violent explosion along with Angus McClair when they were sampling the merchandise from the latter's (and the late) whiskey still.
As for Lucille and Ethel, they moved to Aberdeen were they fell into disrepute with Seventh Day Adventists and died broke at the then old age of 47. Each had one son, both named Damien, after the Writer's favorite pet rottweiler.
Life's funny that way.

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