Spellbound

This story is inspired by the following quote from Shakespeare’s MacBeth, who desires to be the King of Scotland. The three witches cleverly cast spells to determine his destiny.

“Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble”

“Three large double doubles” Cackle hissed into the drive-through speaker.

“Demona you’s really need’a new jalopy, de fumes makin’ me barf” complained Hardbroom, holding her pierced nose.

The flame coloured vintage Cadillac had huge wings at the back and the billows of smoke a sure sign of it’s distraught use.

“Yup” agreed Cackle “Remember’s if de cops stop us we’s just three gals who’s love’a bit of singing, dancing, some cooking an freaking people out. We’s know’s naught about maintenance-n-things”

Demona chuckled “Mays-be we’s cook-up a spell on dem cops…like no stopping us”.

The server at the drive through counter freaked, shrieked and spilled the coffee while fainting at the sight of the goth-like trio in the puffing automobile.

“Okey dokey, time to get back to ouse woman-cave ladies” prodded Hardbroom.

Bouncing and fuming all the way back to the burbs they settled the Caddy in the cave. Water was bubbling in the gas fired cauldron, ready for any defiling entrails to be plopped into its mouth.

The witches loved causing trouble no matter the toil but the order to cast a spell on three people at once with such differing views had never been done before. They had been called upon for their prowess, degrees in chemical engineering and their self-developed computer aided spells check.

“Hey, us witches need to make one special spell tonight. Too much’s at stake honeys, do-wanna be burned” Cackle crackled with concern.

“We’s bought everything on the checklist Cacks. No worries” soothed Demona.

Hardbroom added “We’s choses de right recipe for de spell we need so it jus’ depends on how’s we’s put it together. De rehearsal went tops remember”.

The witches had downloaded streams of data from the internet which they fed into their spells check program. Hours were spent discussing suggested recommendations and after consulting volumes of witchcraft encyclopedias the three settled on a solution.

“So’s what we’s wearing for Halloween den” said Hardbroom changing the subject and relieving some tension.

“You’s kidding me’s Hardbroom. Its like every year honey. We’s professionals have to look ouse best. By’s de ways where’s de party?” queried Cackle.

“It’s at the Frank-n-Furter place you’s knows. We’s been dere before. Dey have de wildest parties and…..dere’s lotsa meatloaf” enthused Demona.

They began hip-hopping around the cauldron rapping:

“Oh you three who hope to be

De next prime minister……yeah!.

Got news for you’s

Gonna make you’s blues

Dat eye of de needle….ish so small

Gonna make you’s fall

Unless you’s call

All de right shots wit all de right plots”

“First in de pot go’s de large double doubles fer de caffeine boost. De minister will need priming after de long campaign” informed Hardbroom.

“Next we have de eye’s of de tiger to keep ’em freaked.” chuckled Demona.

“All de tripe now, so de yakker’s talk sense” chanted Cackle trancelike.

Frenzied pot-stirring cast the spell for a worthy winner.

“Whens do’s we’s threes meet again?” asked Demona.

“Whens de hurly-burly’s done honey” chorused Cackle and Hardbroom.