“Arrived in time for brunch, I see,” the witch observed, a rubbery looking tentacle smacking the side of her face and sticking its weird suction cup feet to her until she grabbed it and pulled it off, causing it to make a splurch sound as it came away from her skin, leaving circular red marks where the suctiony things had been.
“It’s dinner. That’s what I wished for.”
The witch was now wearing a dress covered with millions of tiny eyeballs that swiveled about wildly, the whites of them looking like terror. The eyes were blue. They blinked in unison.
“All meals are brunch here,” the witch explained. “It’s a portmanteau of breakfast and lunch, so it’s the only meal word we use. Unless you count the barely accepted ones like, linner, dunch, brack, and pressert.”
“I see,” Lulu answered, cautiously. None of those words were words, but she hated to argue with a wicked witch when said witch was well-disposed to speaking calmly.
“So, you managed to escape in spite of being obliviated. I should have known you’d be unable to resist,” the witch told Lulu. “even though you had dipped your fingers in the Pool of Serenity. Cybil will be quite amazed by this bit of news. She’s been looking forward to your visit here.”
“Resist what?” Lulu asked. “And, you never even talk to Cybil.”
“That painting is a strange attractor, Lulu. And I have my own methods of communicating with Cybil. Methods you are totally unable to apprehend.”
“I might be able to decipher more than you think,” Lulu said. “How do you think we had all this food waiting for us here? I made a wish when we went through the painting, that’s how.”
“Hmm,” the witch pondered. “So, do you mean to tell me you weren’t obliviated but somehow managed to fake it, and then figured out the painting was magic?”
Lulu stared at the witch, refusing to answer.
“But you still had no way of knowing about the wishful thinking charm on the painting, unless you just guessed. At any rate, you may be smarter than I anticipated. Granted that isn't necessarily saying much, but you do warrant observation. I'll probably have to dispose of you, but that's easy enough.” The witch now looked very intrigued, as if there was a bad idea percolating inside her skull.
Lulu could imagine the witch's brain starting to boil and bubble. She almost expected to see steam coming out of her ears, nose and mouth. She wondered if a boiling brain would cause one's head to explode. That would be pretty gross. First her brains would probably start to leak out around her eyeballs and through her nostrils. Then the gooey grey matter would begin to blurch from her mouth before her eyes popped out…
“That won't work on me,” The Wicked Witch of West Texas said to Lulu, “but it's cute that you're trying.”
“So, where are we?” Reggie asked, interrupting, as usual. “Is this West Texas?”
“Didn’t the Sugar Gnome just tell you this is Sugarland Not-Texas?” the witch snapped, clearly annoyed at Reggie. “How could it be West Texas?”
“Yes, but if it isn’t West Texas…” Lulu began.
“This is the anti-West Texas. We’re in an alternate universe in the space-time continuum.”
“What?” Lulu was really puzzled now.
“Doesn’t Jake read you any quantum physics at bedtime?”[69]
“Is that like ‘Goodnight Moon’?”
The way that the witch was staring at Lulu made her think he didn’t. But, “Goodnight Moon” was the last book she remembered Jake actually reading to her.
“Looks like I’m going to have to make some calls about that Jake.”
“We want to go back home to Walla Walla,” Lulu demanded, knowing this request was not likely to work.
“I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse, then,” the witch answered, much to Lulu and Reggie’s surprise. “It seems that my taco conglomerate deal with the grays is about to fall through due to an unfortunate situation involving Honeydew. This Kubla fellow is cutting off supplies of the substance that was to make my tacos the most irresistible imaginable. Not only that, but the Milk of Paradise was going to make mind-control horchata a reality. Since you two have shown unexpected initiative and cunning…”
“Why don’t you just go to his house and talk to him,” Lulu suggested. “It’s simple. Just tell him you need the Honeydew and Milk of Paradise.”
“Well, it sounds simple to you but that’s because you don’t know the history. We aren’t on the best of terms after I released a herd of Chupacabrasin his little “kingdom.” (The witch added sneering air-quotes around the word “kingdom.”) “It was quite a scene, I tell you. Still, it’s a malenky bit sad we can no longer conspire in evil conspiracies like in the old days.”
“Why’d you do it?” Lulu asked, in spite of herself.
“Do I really need to answer that?”
“I guess not,” Lulu answered. “It was wicked.”
“Well, that, and his whole attitude changed after he decreed that “pleasure dome” (witch air quotes, again) of his. He couldn’t just have a castle like all the other tyrants. He got way too big for his ridiculous, striped britches[70], I tell you. Got all done up with his hair floating and eyes flashing. Really gauche. He’s not even a qualified tyrant, since he never passed his Machiavelli Mastery test.” A tentacle started going up the witch’s nose as she spoke and the blue eyeballs on her dress went mad.
“But…” Lulu attempted to break in. The witch was really on a tear and took no notice.
“Nobody could call him Ishmael any more. It was Kubla Khan, or he wouldn’t even respond. And he walled-in about half of Xanadu,” the witch explained. “Dammed the sacred river, started hogging the incense-bearing trees. He’s insufferable now. But that herd of Chupacabras has really messed up his plans for raising magical curse-canceling cashmere.”[71]
“I don’t know what we can do about it,” said Lulu.
“It just so happens that there might be something you can do about it, as a matter of fact. Like I said, I had intended you two for mere taco slaves, but since you’ve shown a small inclination toward a certain deceptive cleverness, I’ve decided you might serve a higher purpose, at least for now. I can always enslave you to make tacos later if you prove to be less clever than I suspect. Actually, it’s pretty unlikely that you’ll survive to become taco slaves, truth be known.”
"You could just turn Mr. Khan into one of those sea slugs," Lulu suggested.
"If it were anyone else I could, but when we were friends I placed a hex reversal charm on him. We were teaming up for a lot of evil schemes so it made sense at the time. That's why he's currently safe from my usual methods. But that doesn't mean there aren't ways of getting to him." The witch smiled her tight, bitter smile at Lulu and for once Reggie didn't open his yap.
The witch stared and a tentacle started to wrap around her neck.
“Oh, these tentacles. I have to change,” she pulled out her wand, waved it and when the smoke cleared, her head was a mass of black cat tails. As far as Lulu was concerned, it was her best look so far. The cat tails swished and wriggled, but at least they weren't gross like the snakes and tentacles and their fur was glossy and soft looking. And they didn't have eyes, either, which was nice.
“Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Kubla. Let's talk about how you're going to help me defeat him once and for all.”
[69] A quantum physicist could, presumably, explain the witch’s statement. Unfortunately, no quantum physicist was unavailable for telling of this tale. For the purpose of the story one can simply take this as a bit of nonsense made for obfuscation.
[70]Multi-colored stripes were the partial subject of his rejected dissertation in Textual Façade Studies, which was tentatively titled: Invidious Citrine: Chromatic Jalousie and Verdant Permutations in Intertextual Deuteranopianism and Stripes. It was later found that a certain rather wicked individual may have penned the horrid thing with an eye to confusing the colorblind.
[71]Cashmere is made from special goat hair.
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