Let me introduce you to our coffee morning club, although, after this morning’s antics, it would seem more like a coffee morning coven. There are five of us, all living on the same street, and we take it in turns to be the hostess. This morning we met at Alison’s house for the first time. She and her husband, Pete, moved into the old Parkinson place last month, and we wasted no time in inviting her to join our club. Her house had been the subject of rumour and stories for years, and we were all keen to have a look inside.
Mrs Parkinson had lived alone in the house for as long as anybody could remember. She was very rarely seen, and never spoke to any of her neighbours. The fate of Mr Parkinson was the subject of much speculation, along with the things that Mrs P got up to alone in her house. We had all seen the mysterious green flashes on many occasions.
Alison and Pete knew nothing of the house’s history until after they had bought it. It didn’t seem to bother them. They said that they fell in love with the place as soon as they saw it. The house had been neglected, and needed some work, but, apart from that, they had found nothing untoward. That was, until this morning.
“I found something up in the attic,” said Alison.
She left the room and returned a few seconds later carrying a huge book, which she put on the table.
‘A Hundred and One Spells To Do’.
The title was written in a flowery, Gothic script, and was the only thing on the front cover. There was no author name or pictures.
“I think it’s just a joke,” said Alison. “I’ve had a quick look through, and all the spells have exactlythe same ingredients except one, which is listed as a ‘mystery ingredient’. But each spell does have its own words.”
She opened the book at random.
A spell to turn water into wine
Ingredients: ½ teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
3 pubic hairs
1 tablespoon cold baked beans
1 cup pond water
Pinch of belly fluff
1 set fly’s wings
A small boy, if available, otherwise 1 pair unwashed socks
½ pint ginger beer
Mystery Ingredient
Incantation: Speaking clear and speaking fine
Will turn this water into wine.
“Let’s try it,” said Jane
“Are you kidding?” I said.
“No, it’ll be a laugh.”
“And when it doesn’t work, which it won’t, we’ll look complete fools.”
“Only we’ll know, so what’s the big deal?”
“I’m game,” said Sharon.
“Me too,” said Felicity.
“Well, I’ve got bicarbonate of soda, baked beans, and ginger beer in the kitchen,” said Alison. “There’s plenty of unwashed socks in the laundry basket, and I’m sure I can find a dead fly.”
“I can get some water from our pond,” said Felicity.
“I can’t help with the pubic hair, but I can provide the belly fluff,” said Sharon.
We all looked at her in silence.
“It’s this damn cashmere sweater. I always have to clean out after wearing it.”
“And why can’t you help with the pubic hair?” I asked.
“I shaved this morning.”
“What, all of it?”
“Yeah, of course.”
She saw the looks on our faces.
“What? That’s the way Mike likes it.”
Ten minutes later all the ingredients had been placed together in a bowl, next to a large wineglass of water. Felicity ended up being the donor of the pubic hair, confirming, much to our surprise, that she was indeed a natural blond.
“All we need now is the mystery ingredient,” said Jane.
“What do you think it could be?” asked Sharon.
“Perhaps it’s relevant to thespell,” suggested Alison. “We’re trying to make wine, so why don’t we try a grape? I’ll get one from the fruit bowl.”
She came back with a white grape and dropped into the mixture.
“Right, who’s going to say the incantation?” asked Felicity.
“It’s Alison’s book, so she should have the honour,” I said.
“Thanks a lot. Okay, we’ve got this far, we might as well finish.”
Alison took a deep breath.
“Speaking clear and speaking fine will turn this water into wine.”
A large green flash came from the bowl of ingredients, making us all jump back. It took a few seconds for our eyes to clear. The bowl was now empty, and as clean as if it had just been washed. The liquid in the wine glass was no longer clear, but the colour of white wine. Sharon picked it up and sniffed it.
“Smells okay.”
She took a tentative sip.
“I’m getting brimstone and old crone, with a suffusion of hairy wart, and just a hint of bat ear.”
“Give us it here,” said Jane, taking the glass from Sharon, and taking a sip. “It’s a Chardonnay you silly bitch.”
We all tried the wine, and there was no doubt. It was a very good Chardonnay.
“Let’s try a red grape,” I suggested.
We made up another set of ingredients, this time with a red grape. Alison repeated the incantation, there was another green flash, and we were left with a glass of fine claret.
“Let’s see what other spells there are,” said Felicity.
She began leafing through the book.
“Silk purse from a sow’s ear. Don’t suppose any of us have a sow’s ear. Caviar from frog’s spawn. Wrong time of the year. Hey, here’s one. A spell of silence. I could do with that one for my mother-in-law.”
“Or better still, Moaning Mary,” I said.
Mary Simpson was a one-woman crusade to keep theneighbourhood clean and respectable. She was forever knocking on doors complaining about untidy gardens, or cars not put away in garages, or kids misbehaving in the street, or music being played too loud. Silencing her would be a social service.
“So, what’s the mystery ingredient?” asked Jane.
“That’s easy. Tongue. And I just happen to have some ox tongue in the fridge,” answered Alison.
So, once again, we filled the bowl with the ingredients, along with a slice of tongue.
“You realise I’m going to have to buy Pete a whole new set of socks at this rate?” said Alison.
Felicity read the incantation.
“Insert name here has too much to say, so let all words be taken away.”
Nothing happened.
“Give me that here,” said Jane, taking the spell book. “You idiot. You don’t say ‘insert name here’. You have to use the person’s name. Mary Simpson has too much to say, so let all words be taken away.”
Another green flash, and once more the bowl was clean and empty.
“How do we know it’s worked?” asked Alison.
“Let’s go across to Mary’s house and see,” replied Felicity.
“No, not now. I want to try another spell. Look there’s one here for breast enlargement,” said Sharon.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked.
“Yeah, of course. I’ve always wanted bigger tits, and, if I can get them without paying a fortune, so much the better. Alison, have you got a chicken breast?”
Another bowl of ingredients was made up, and Sharon recited the spell.
“My self-esteem needs building up, so give my tits an extra cup.”
The now familiar flash of green was followed by a scream from Sharon. She pulled off her sweater and was frantically trying to undo her bra.
“Shit, that’s tight. I should’ve taken it off first.”
Her bra fell away, and the rest of us stared in disbelief. The spell had worked,but only on one breast.
“I think we should’ve used two chicken breasts,” said Alison.
“Quick, go and get another one,” screamed Sharon.
She did the spell again, but that just made the situation worse. The already enlarged breast grew another cup size.
“Get two more chicken breasts,” shouted a hysterical Sharon.
“I don’t have any more, and besides, that won’t work. You’ll just make them both grow another cup size.”
“I can’t go home like this. Mike will go mad. What am I going to do?”
Sharon started crying, and I went to comfort her. Suddenly, there was a commotion outside, on the street. We rushed to the window, in time to see Mary Simpson rush by, bellowing like an ox.
“Oh Christ, what have we done?” said Alison.
“Excuse me, ladies,” said Jane, who had returned to the spell book. “I think we should have read the introduction before we started. It says here that this book should only be used in conjunction with its sister volume, ‘A Hundred and One Spells to Undo’. Alison, did you find any other books in your attic?”
“No, but I haven’t looked everywhere yet.”
“Well, I think we’d better get up there quick, and hope we can find it.”
So, that’s where we are. Four of us are in Alison’s attic, frantically looking for the missing book. Sharon is downstairs, sobbing her eyes out, and Mary Simpson is stampeding up and down the street. If we ever get out of this mess, I think it will be just coffee and cream cakes from now on.
Mrs Parkinson had lived alone in the house for as long as anybody could remember. She was very rarely seen, and never spoke to any of her neighbours. The fate of Mr Parkinson was the subject of much speculation, along with the things that Mrs P got up to alone in her house. We had all seen the mysterious green flashes on many occasions.
Alison and Pete knew nothing of the house’s history until after they had bought it. It didn’t seem to bother them. They said that they fell in love with the place as soon as they saw it. The house had been neglected, and needed some work, but, apart from that, they had found nothing untoward. That was, until this morning.
“I found something up in the attic,” said Alison.
She left the room and returned a few seconds later carrying a huge book, which she put on the table.
‘A Hundred and One Spells To Do’.
The title was written in a flowery, Gothic script, and was the only thing on the front cover. There was no author name or pictures.
“I think it’s just a joke,” said Alison. “I’ve had a quick look through, and all the spells have exactlythe same ingredients except one, which is listed as a ‘mystery ingredient’. But each spell does have its own words.”
She opened the book at random.
A spell to turn water into wine
Ingredients: ½ teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
3 pubic hairs
1 tablespoon cold baked beans
1 cup pond water
Pinch of belly fluff
1 set fly’s wings
A small boy, if available, otherwise 1 pair unwashed socks
½ pint ginger beer
Mystery Ingredient
Incantation: Speaking clear and speaking fine
Will turn this water into wine.
“Let’s try it,” said Jane
“Are you kidding?” I said.
“No, it’ll be a laugh.”
“And when it doesn’t work, which it won’t, we’ll look complete fools.”
“Only we’ll know, so what’s the big deal?”
“I’m game,” said Sharon.
“Me too,” said Felicity.
“Well, I’ve got bicarbonate of soda, baked beans, and ginger beer in the kitchen,” said Alison. “There’s plenty of unwashed socks in the laundry basket, and I’m sure I can find a dead fly.”
“I can get some water from our pond,” said Felicity.
“I can’t help with the pubic hair, but I can provide the belly fluff,” said Sharon.
We all looked at her in silence.
“It’s this damn cashmere sweater. I always have to clean out after wearing it.”
“And why can’t you help with the pubic hair?” I asked.
“I shaved this morning.”
“What, all of it?”
“Yeah, of course.”
She saw the looks on our faces.
“What? That’s the way Mike likes it.”
Ten minutes later all the ingredients had been placed together in a bowl, next to a large wineglass of water. Felicity ended up being the donor of the pubic hair, confirming, much to our surprise, that she was indeed a natural blond.
“All we need now is the mystery ingredient,” said Jane.
“What do you think it could be?” asked Sharon.
“Perhaps it’s relevant to thespell,” suggested Alison. “We’re trying to make wine, so why don’t we try a grape? I’ll get one from the fruit bowl.”
She came back with a white grape and dropped into the mixture.
“Right, who’s going to say the incantation?” asked Felicity.
“It’s Alison’s book, so she should have the honour,” I said.
“Thanks a lot. Okay, we’ve got this far, we might as well finish.”
Alison took a deep breath.
“Speaking clear and speaking fine will turn this water into wine.”
A large green flash came from the bowl of ingredients, making us all jump back. It took a few seconds for our eyes to clear. The bowl was now empty, and as clean as if it had just been washed. The liquid in the wine glass was no longer clear, but the colour of white wine. Sharon picked it up and sniffed it.
“Smells okay.”
She took a tentative sip.
“I’m getting brimstone and old crone, with a suffusion of hairy wart, and just a hint of bat ear.”
“Give us it here,” said Jane, taking the glass from Sharon, and taking a sip. “It’s a Chardonnay you silly bitch.”
We all tried the wine, and there was no doubt. It was a very good Chardonnay.
“Let’s try a red grape,” I suggested.
We made up another set of ingredients, this time with a red grape. Alison repeated the incantation, there was another green flash, and we were left with a glass of fine claret.
“Let’s see what other spells there are,” said Felicity.
She began leafing through the book.
“Silk purse from a sow’s ear. Don’t suppose any of us have a sow’s ear. Caviar from frog’s spawn. Wrong time of the year. Hey, here’s one. A spell of silence. I could do with that one for my mother-in-law.”
“Or better still, Moaning Mary,” I said.
Mary Simpson was a one-woman crusade to keep theneighbourhood clean and respectable. She was forever knocking on doors complaining about untidy gardens, or cars not put away in garages, or kids misbehaving in the street, or music being played too loud. Silencing her would be a social service.
“So, what’s the mystery ingredient?” asked Jane.
“That’s easy. Tongue. And I just happen to have some ox tongue in the fridge,” answered Alison.
So, once again, we filled the bowl with the ingredients, along with a slice of tongue.
“You realise I’m going to have to buy Pete a whole new set of socks at this rate?” said Alison.
Felicity read the incantation.
“Insert name here has too much to say, so let all words be taken away.”
Nothing happened.
“Give me that here,” said Jane, taking the spell book. “You idiot. You don’t say ‘insert name here’. You have to use the person’s name. Mary Simpson has too much to say, so let all words be taken away.”
Another green flash, and once more the bowl was clean and empty.
“How do we know it’s worked?” asked Alison.
“Let’s go across to Mary’s house and see,” replied Felicity.
“No, not now. I want to try another spell. Look there’s one here for breast enlargement,” said Sharon.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked.
“Yeah, of course. I’ve always wanted bigger tits, and, if I can get them without paying a fortune, so much the better. Alison, have you got a chicken breast?”
Another bowl of ingredients was made up, and Sharon recited the spell.
“My self-esteem needs building up, so give my tits an extra cup.”
The now familiar flash of green was followed by a scream from Sharon. She pulled off her sweater and was frantically trying to undo her bra.
“Shit, that’s tight. I should’ve taken it off first.”
Her bra fell away, and the rest of us stared in disbelief. The spell had worked,but only on one breast.
“I think we should’ve used two chicken breasts,” said Alison.
“Quick, go and get another one,” screamed Sharon.
She did the spell again, but that just made the situation worse. The already enlarged breast grew another cup size.
“Get two more chicken breasts,” shouted a hysterical Sharon.
“I don’t have any more, and besides, that won’t work. You’ll just make them both grow another cup size.”
“I can’t go home like this. Mike will go mad. What am I going to do?”
Sharon started crying, and I went to comfort her. Suddenly, there was a commotion outside, on the street. We rushed to the window, in time to see Mary Simpson rush by, bellowing like an ox.
“Oh Christ, what have we done?” said Alison.
“Excuse me, ladies,” said Jane, who had returned to the spell book. “I think we should have read the introduction before we started. It says here that this book should only be used in conjunction with its sister volume, ‘A Hundred and One Spells to Undo’. Alison, did you find any other books in your attic?”
“No, but I haven’t looked everywhere yet.”
“Well, I think we’d better get up there quick, and hope we can find it.”
So, that’s where we are. Four of us are in Alison’s attic, frantically looking for the missing book. Sharon is downstairs, sobbing her eyes out, and Mary Simpson is stampeding up and down the street. If we ever get out of this mess, I think it will be just coffee and cream cakes from now on.
Support Kim Montgomery
