By Pharrel Katz
There’s a girl in my class. There’s a rumor that she’s a witch. I don’t know how the rumor started. I don’t care. I believe it. She is a witch. How do I know? Because of her witchy ways. That and her tall, black hat in the shape of a cone. And she carries a broom with her wherever she goes. She comes to class with the hat and the broom and is all dressed in black.
She also carries around a stuffed cat. Not a dead cat that was stuffed, but a toy cat. She says it’s her familiar. I once asked her if it needed to be a real, living cat to be a witch’s familiar, but she said it didn’t matter. Magic will create a witch’s familiar even from a stuffed toy, and it will come alive and work some evil. I don’t think familiars work good. Maybe they don’t work anything at all, maybe they’re just companions.
I imagine witches are lonely and it must be nice to have a familiar. I guess they are called familiars because they are familiar with what it means to be lonely. Cats are pretty solitary creatures, like witches. Maybe witches are lonely because they’re ugly. Not all witches are ugly. The witch girl in my class is actually kind of cute. I don’t know why she wants to be a witch. Is it even a choice? I mean, maybe it’s born in you, like being good at math or sports.
Other kids in our class laugh at her for dressing like a witch and carrying around that broom, but I kind of admire her bravery. One time, this kid in class spilled the pencil sharpener shavings on the floor and said in a mean voice, “Hey, why doesn’t the witch make her broom clean it up?” Everybody laughed, except me. I respect witches. Well, that kid got sick with leukemia and all his hair fell out. I’m sure it was magic retribution.
I followed the witch girl one day after school. She went to the woods. I spied on her from behind a couple of trees that were growing really close together. I’m sure she didn’t see me. Anyway, she built a little fire in the center of a stone ring and started chanting, “Satan, Satan, come be my husband.” It gave me the creeps.
Then, this older kid from the 7th grade showed up. He’s a real jerk and he bullies everybody in my class, but he’s never bullied me. I’m lucky, I guess. Anyway, the bully kid showed up and started to smoke a cigarette. He offered it to witch girl and she took a few drags, but started to cough really bad. Then he started to ride her broom around and grabbed her stuffed cat. She yelled, “Quit it!” and he said, “Make me.”
And then they started kissing. I wanted to run, but I was afraid they’d see me and the bully guy would beat me up, so I just kept watching. Well, they kissed and then she pushed him away and started laughing at him. He got really mad and yelled at her to shut up. Then he lit another cigarette. She was holding her broom and said to him, “You are Satan and you’re my husband.” He just looked at her and said, “You’re a fucking retard,” and he kicked the fire and left. Then she left. I waited a few minutes, then I went to look at the fire in the stone circle. She’d burned her toy cat in the fire. What did she do that for? Then I left.
I saw her the next day and she wasn’t dressed like a witch anymore; she was dressed like a regular kid in 6th grade. But don’t you believe her. How can you be a witch, a real witch, one day and then normal the next day? I don’t think so.
So I’m keeping an eye on her. Some days she dresses like a cheerleader and some days like a Girl Scout, but she’s not fooling me. You can never trust a witch. Some day she’ll go back to her witchy ways. When she does, I want to be there and say, “I told you so.”
Like your name.
As an addendum, I heard a great line, ‘why is it that all bad people have cats?’ Clearly, bad people need to have something with which they are familiar. Or is it with witch they are familiar. Cozy story for a wintry day.
Woo hoo witchy woman . . . enjoyed this.
Why are so many stories in this publication about what happened in grammar school? It’s like a grade-school genre. Fluff…drivel…
Not all, but certainly a lot.
I remember the witch girl. I was the boy with the cigarette. After we made out I went home and my father beat me and my mother prayed because I made out with a witch. Don’t ask me how they knew. The next morning I woke up with the ashes from a toy cat in my bed and I was a girl. I still went to the boys bathroom because that’s what they make you do in Texas even if the other boys laugh and bully you. I mean I still have a boy’s dangle doodle, but inside I’m a girl. I would rather bake cookies and dream about riding horses than beat up on smarty pants sixth graders. So count yourself lucky because we both saw you hiding and the witch girl and still laugh about it when we shoplift cigarettes to smoke behind the mall.
dude what…
Who replied “dude what”?
Wasn’t me-ow!
-P.Katz
I enjoyed it. I am going to read it again to see what I can learn about why this was such an easy piece to read.
Loved it – Great voice! Thanks.
I just love this. Not one wasted word and I was with you all the way.
Thanks everyone for reading and commenting.
Even the “dude what” commentor.
P.Katz
Fun to read. Loved the fast pace