Three Witches Magic Shoppe: Chapter 11
Eleven
Life with Dainty Bette was not what Little Matt had in mind. Too bad he still hadn't learned to consider the consequences. He'd figured an one-hundred-and-forty-year-old vampire would more than know her way around, and maybe, even so; but, she hadn't matured anymore than an eleven-year-old in both body and mind. Little Matt had to be at least thirteen, and he cast his eyes low in shame as she ordered, "Scrub!", from her bubble bath in room 13 of The Collins Port Inn, the green room, also known as Amanda Harris's room.
Meanwhile the witches were outside with Purple Pumpkin Pie. "Fuck sake!" "Now... Don't blame us." Red Witch shook her head. "That's right.", chimed in Suzie Blue, "Three Witches! You Know!" "But, it's not my fucking fault!", cried Purple Pumpkin Pie. "Yeah, right. I'm sure, Mr. Rourke tied you to the bed and held you hostage on the island." Red Witch could not be convinced. "He fucking did." "You're lying, and there's nothing to be done about it, now. Dame Darcy will be here, soon, and she's way more magical."
Dainty Bette had Little Matt fitted with a collar and a leash. They were invisible to most unless you kept your third eye open, you might see. She wouldn't let him party nor strip. "How many times must I tell you, and how stupid are you people? You cannot be a stripper if your clothes are sewn on."
Just then, the lobby door opened, and Little Matt's jaw dropped. In walked the most glorious creature he'd seen, today. "Hi! This is The Collins Port Inn? Is Red Witch in? Oh!" Red Witch appeared behind them. "Dame Darcy! Welcome! We've been hexpecting you! Let me show you up to your room first, let you get settled in. Did you have a good ride in?" "Oh, yes. I rode the north wind and parked my broom alongside the others." "That's right." Little Matt was so impressed. One of the many reasons he had wanted to come to Collins Port Quarter was that he'd lost his license. He still did not fly nor have a broom, and the witches seemed to have all sorts of rules against warlocks. Little Ron said it was a conspiracy against men. He was often in trouble for breaking the Wiccan rede. "Wicca, my ass!", he'd say, but he's Italian. We'll return to that, soon enough, now, we must see what caused all the trouble and left Bette in such a huff.
