The thought occurred to me that I could make a nice living writing about Aunt Liza’s stupid-ass stunts. I wouldn’t have to use any creativity. You can’t make this shit up.
For instance, I’m now taking a huge stock pot I normally use to concoct my famous chili - because, no, I don’t own a cauldron, and I’m not about to ask Liza to borrow hers - and using it instead to whip up some kind of spiritual bath soak I just read about on Google.
According to what I’d read, if the “enemy” is in your family, and constantly uses spells to hurt you, you can’t simply cleanse and do a basic protection spell. You’ve got to attempt a reversing maneuver. And what that boils down to, pun intended, is now bubbling in my stock pot.
And damn, is this costing me a small fortune.
The Captain and I had to make a quick trip to Chicago to pick up all of the ingredients. We certainly don’t stock this stuff in our local tractor supply store, and I didn’t have time for Amazon to deliver what I needed tomorrow. That said, I’d gone ahead and ordered all of this crap in bulk from The Zon, next day delivery. So, from now on, I’d always have plenty of reversing supplies on hand.
Listen to me, I sound as if I believe I can fix Liza’s latest disaster. Truth is, I have no clue if my concoctions will work, but we have to try something.
Hopefully, with the combination of the spiritual bathing, house cleansing and floor washing potions I’m beginning to mix up, we’ll be able to not only reverse Liza’s spells here on the farm, but maybe help poor Darryl and Hank too.
Come to think of it though, I wonder if I can bottle these witchy brews and ship ‘em to the up shit creek exes. Once it’s been bottled, does this stuff even work? Guess I’ll have to research that too. Otherwise, the schmucks might remain hexed.
I checked the list I’d made of what all I need to do. Shit! Good thing I’d gone back. Before I continued with my stock pot reversing stew, I needed to light all the crazy candles we’d bought.
I was now the proud owner of one hundred specially made, free-standing jumbo candles, in a variety of colors, that I’m to burn on a mirror. Doing so is supposed to send bad luck and trouble back to the person who sent it.
With each candle now lit, placed on its mirror, and sitting in every window in my farmhouse that looked out toward Aunt Liza’s farm and property, I was set on that front. Let the bad juju bounce back.
“We should probably go ahead and mail a box of these candles and mirrors to both Darryl and Hank,” Captain Allen said, after finishing lighting the last one.
“I suppose you’re right. But can you imagine the cost to send the package to Switzerland? Fuck me,” I said, shaking my head and returning to my reversing stew.
“So what all you got cooking in there?” the Captain asked, sitting down at the table, evidently not wanting to get any closer to my pot.
I checked my recipe so I could recite the ingredients in this first potion.
“Let’s see, in this one, we’ve got sea water, salt, minerals, herbs including Damiana, raspberry leaves, rue, eucalyptus, agrimony and cinnamon chips, roots and various tree barks. Oh, and some chamomile flowers too.”
“I’ll have to admit, I don’t know what half of that stuff is but it smells damn good,” Captain Allen said, evidently not afraid to inhale.
No way was I telling Liza or Sam what I was cooking up for their exes. Since they’d damn near killed ‘em, I doubt they’d be into making their lives full of all kinds of positive stuff. And from what the recipe said, not only would bathing in this special juice put an end to the adverse conditions Liza had created, it would bring all of us more love, attractiveness, money and fewer bad habits and evil companions.
Hey, it was the best thing I could find on short notice.
Since I’d been appointed the new anti-witchcraft chef for this family, they’d just have to live with the awesome sauces I cooked up.
“Do we use the same crap on the floors too?” the Captain asked.
“Oh no. Are you kidding? We couldn’t be that lucky,” I said and laughed.
I searched through the gazillion recipes I’d printed out, looking for the floor wash formula.
“Here it is. For the floors, we’re mixing up salt with added saltpeter, washing soda, ammonia, turpentine, lye, some kind of herb called Devil’s Shoestring and diluted urine.”
“Whose urine? Or do I even want to know?” Captain Allen asked, picking up his tea cup, looking at the contents, then putting down the cup without taking a drink.
Guess he decided he wasn’t thirsty.
“I know I don’t want to know. Thank goodness that came in a bottle too,” I said.
And it was a damn good thing I also had several bottles of Templeton Rye Whiskey to get the Captain and I through this crazy ass chaos.
“Good point. How ‘bout I go ahead and get started with placing the protective charms?”
“Good idea. And I suppose we should prepare boxes of those to send to Darryl and Hank too,” I said.
Holy schmoly! The UPS driver was going to get a real workout this week.
“Got it. I’ll start by making those reversing mirror-box spells,” the Captain said finding the printout with the how to’s for making the protective boxes.
“Hell’s bells! Don’t we need a couple of those damn Voodoo dolls for those things?” I asked.
I grabbed the printout. Sure enough. There was the picture of the box filled with junk to ward off Liza’s spells.
“Oh yeah. We do. And I ain’t goin’...”
“I’ll tell ya what, we’ll flip for it,” I said, taking out a quarter from my pants pocket.
“Fine. Heads,” Captain Allen said, looking just as anxious as I must have while the quarter spun toward the hardwood floor of the kitchen.
“Tails it is, my friend. Looks like you’ll be going to Liza’s to get the dolls.”
“Fuck me.”
“Pretty much,” I said, so relieved it was him headed to the coven and not me.