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When Things Go Wrong Because of an Idiot

WIP

I’ve had this plot going on for two years now, and all I’ve managed to do is draw it.

Here’s a writing attempt.

THE DELAY OF THE BLUEBERRY PIE

If the two Bumstone sisters were considered the “wicked witches” in the land of Pharder, then we wouldn’t have much of a story.  For witches, the sisters were failures- they wouldn’t even be a cause for the witch hysteria in Salem.  Their poisoned fruits looked rotten, so no one ever thought of buying them- even the pigs refused to eat them! Their scrawny, orange cat knocked the only spell book they owned into a cauldron of sleeping draught, and their monolith-of-a-house hideout was a good giveaway, being a landmark for a fork in the main road, dead center in front of the Dead Bark Forest, within unreachable distances of the Village Town and the Plumtip’s Castle.

If the two Bumstone sisters were considered the “wicked witches” in the land of Pharder, then we wouldn’t have much of a story.  But for literature’s sake, we do have a story.  The Bumstone sisters have at least done one successful evil deed- the kidnapping of the Village Town baker’s daughter.  If Thugam and Harlon Bumstone had not run out of supplies for the week, they would not have even gone to the Village Town- the jouney was far, further than what it took to walk to the Plumtip’s Castle which was in the opposite direction.  But alas, they also wanted blueberry pie.

The Village Town was called, well, Village Town, because it was what it was- a village and a town, as the Plumtips were too lazy to think of anywhere else to throw their people. The witches were no strangers to this place, but the place was strange for the witches.  The small, overpopulated piece of land was where all the commoners were- from the peasants to the merchants, to the bartenders and sneaky harlots, to the bankers, apothecaries, freak-shows, and, of course, the jobless.

On the afternoon they arrived in the Village Town, the people were celebrating the birth of the baker’s daughter.  As it seemed, the baker and his wife had always wanted a baby girl, and their wish was granted, (although there were a lot of speculation about who the father was.)  The baker had his darling daughter in her crib for the whole Village Town to see within his bakery, just beside him behind his counter window.

All of this annoyed the Bumstone sisters- and the fact that the baker had run out of blueberry pie did not help. As the baker went behind shop to bake one for the sisters, who were in all honesty no threat to anyone in Village Town yet, Harlom went behind the counter and played with the baker’s daughter.

“Oh Thuga, I want to keep her!” whined Harlom.

Thuga chuckled “Well, sister, we are witches,” and grabbed a loaf of bread. With the most unnatural sight, Thuga held the loaf in her arms like a baby and cooed at it.

It started crying.

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Thuga and Harlom Bumstone walked out of the bakery with their blueberry pie and what looked to be a loaf of bread inside a shopping bag.  To think that the baker would ask two witches if he would like his daughter in paper or plastic- in all its irony, it was funny for the witches and this did as well made up for waiting for their blueberry pie.  All smiles, they prepare to walk.

Now on the way home, they met a couple of people.

There was a boy named Jack who brought his cow to the town area of Village Town, hoping to score a few gold pieces in order to appease his brother’s gambling problem.  Unluckily for the poor boy, he had come across the Bumstone sisters who swindled him for his cow in exchange for a can of beans that was said to never run empty. This had solved the curious problem for the baby’s milk, and caused an unpleasant beating on the poor boy’s behalf once his mother found out.

“Oh sister, what shall we name her?” said Harlom, trying to get a peek at the sleeping infant inside the bag.

Thuga, frustrated, pinched Harlom, who in return let out a piggish squeal.
“Be patient, Harlom! People will get suspicious.”

“Suspicious of what?” said an eerie, familiar voice from behind them. It was the apothecary, Sluckpiuw.

“Yeah, Thuga. Suspicious of what?” joined in the very clueless, pathetic, yet demanding stupidity of Harlom.

“It’s just that…” thought Thuga, trying to think on her feet, “I think people will get suspicious that we had run out of supplies again. Wouldn’t want people to think we’re brewing up another failure, now would we?” she finished with a nervous chuckle.

“Ah, I… see,” said Sluckpiuw with an acknowledging bob of the head.  He gestured for the sisters to follow him into his meticulous shop.  “What can I do for you ladies today?”

Now Sluckpiuw was only one of Village Town’s many apothecaries,  but he was the most known.  Stepping into his little shop, one would notice shelves and shelves of jars that held entirely different things. For some people, imagining this little place would mean images of creepy, sinister, glowing jars carelessly strewn about on each shelf- but it is exactly the opposite.  Sluckpiuw was diagnosed with a mild case of OCD, so all the creepy, sinister, glowing jars were in a straight line on each shelf, all facing one direction, exactly two and a third of an inch apart from one another.  In these jars lay the potential of the little girl that these witches kidnapped.

Stepping out of the apothecary’s shop, Thuga once again pinched Harlom and walked on, leaving her sister to trail after her, carrying the several roots, parts, solutions, brews and innards they bought from Sluckpiuw.