tagMind ControlBitch Witch Hitch Switch

Bitch Witch Hitch Switch

byBOSTONFICTIONWRITER©

"Hey, guys, you missed a house," said a kid dressed as Superman.

"We don't go to that house," said a kid dressed as Spiderman. "We never go to that house."

"You don't? Why not? It's a nice house, the biggest one on the street. Look at the fancy cars parked in the driveway. Whoever lives there must have money, a lot of money. They probably give out the best candy."

"Didn't you read the sign?"

"Sign? No, I didn't see any sign. What sign?"

Go back and read the sign but read it from the sidewalk. Whatever you do, do not walk on his property. There is a big sign posted on the front door every year.

WARNING: ANYONE BEGGING FOR A TREAT WILL BE TRICKED.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. NO TRESSPASSING!
DO NOT KNOCK ON MY DOOR! DO NOT RING MY BELL!
GO AWAY! GET LOST! BEAT IT! SCRAM! SHOO!
GET OUT AND STAY OUT! I DON'T WANT ANY!
LEAVE NOW WHILE YOU STILL CAN! AND I MEAN IT!

"What does it mean, tricked?"

"He throws rotten eggs, squirts water from a super soaker, throws water balloons filled with food coloring, tosses firecrackers and stink bombs, and shoots shaving cream from a fire extinguisher."

"No way. He can't do that." Poor little scared Superman looked back at the house as he walked away and gulped. "Can he?"

"Yeah, legally, he can. The police arrested him years ago for tricking kids. He hired a lawyer and fought it in court and won. So long as he has a sign posted and he is on his property and you are on his property, he can trick you."

"Wow! That's scary."

For those of you reading this story and thinking that my behavior is terrible, tough titties. Yeah, yeah, save it for Oprah. Boo hoo hoo! I heard it all before. Don't waste your breath lecturing me. Wah! Wah! Wah! Too bad for the poor children, let them get candy elsewhere. Who gives a shit about them?

Let me start by saying that I hate Halloween. Halloween is my least favorite holiday. Halloween, to me, is not even a holiday. Halloween sucks big time.

It never used to be like that. Years ago, I used to look forward to Halloween. I used to put up decorations, dress up in a costume, and throw a big bash for friends and family. I used to give out candy to all the kids who came to my door in costume. Now, I turn off all my lights and pretend that I am not home. If any kids dare come to my door and ask for a treat, I trick them. It serves them right.

"Didn't you read the sign? Hey! I don't care if you are only five-years-old and can't read, yet. Too bad! Now screw before I toss a firecracker at your ass!"

"Mommy! Daddy!"

It all started five years ago when I hired a witch to cast a spell, a love spell, and she screwed everything up. She totally ruined my life. Then, she did the old switcheroo.

Hi, my name is Freddie. You don't know me. I just started writing here (just go along with me and pretend, okay) and this is my first story (okay, knock off the laughing).

Anyway, I am head over heels in love with Cynthia. Everyone calls her Cindy but too me, she is my Cynthia.

"Listen, I have told you over and again, please stop calling me Cynthia. I hate that name."

"I'm sorry, Cynthia. Please forgive me, Cynthia. I won't call you Cynthia anymore. Okay, Cynthia?"

I think her formal name sounds classier than her nickname and even though she has asked me numerous times not to call her Cynthia, I can't help myself. I just cannot call her anything but Cynthia. It's an old fashioned name much like Barbara or Elizabeth, don't you think? It's akin to Priscilla or Pamela. I love names that have more than two syllables. Whenever you say a three or more syllable name, such as Allison and Melissa, it is like reciting poetry. Sorry, but I'm in love…with Cynthia.

Her name reminds me of that girlfriend of Prince Charles, the one that he married after Princess Di died, Camilla Parker Bowles. Now, no one refers to her as Cammy. That would sound dreadful. Camilla is such a feminine name, whereas Cammy is a name for a hockey player or an auto mechanic.

"Hey, Cammy, is my car ready, yet?"

Cynthia, Cynthia, Cynthia, I love her name. It sounds like a flower. I just can't bring myself to call her Cindy. Cindy sounds like the condition of your fireplace pit after a fire, whereas Cynthia is a fragrance of fine femininity.

I first met Cynthia at Starbucks. She works there. Allow me to describe her so you will understand why I am in love with her. She has long, blonde hair, big blue eyes, is 5'6", weighs about 115 pounds, and has a nice B cup rack with an amazing ass and long shapely legs. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life. Man she is gorgeous, and she has those full lips like Angelina Jolie. Does anyone know if those things are real? Man, with those lips, you could stick Angelina to a wall and she wouldn't fall off.

Anyway, whenever Cynthia comes around from behind the counter to clean tables, I cannot help myself from staring at her, particularly her ass. She has a wonderfully proud ass. She has an ass that any man would love to covet as his own. And, as you all know, I'm not even into anal sex, but I love her ass.

"Did you see that guy leering at me?"

"Yeah, I saw him." said Jack the Manager of Starbucks. "I have my eye on him. Don't worry, Cindy."

I think Jack has a thing for Cynthia but she is mine, all mine. Besides, he's just a kid, a few years older than she is. Cynthia is a woman who needs the charm, culture, sophistication, and worldliness of an older man, such as myself.

"He gives me the creeps," said Cindy.

"What a weirdo," said Jack.

"I can't even look at him," Cindy looked away turning her back to me and I knew then that she was playing hard to get. "He makes my skin crawl," she said whispering to her co-worker.

"Yeah," said Jack with a chuckle, "I saw him yesterday and he had a little drool hanging off his lip."

"Oh, gross. Why did you even tell me that? Oh, that is so gross. That's an image that I could have done without."

Ever since that first fateful day that I saw her for the first time, I go there for coffee and a dose of Cynthia twice daily. I have a feeling she likes me because she remembers my order, large black with big nipples and no sugar. For those of you who have never heard the expression, big nipples means two dribbles of cream.

I think she thought it funny the first time that I ordered my coffee like that, large black with big nipples but after that, she did not laugh. Now she has my coffee ready as soon as I walk in the door. Recently, she has started giving me my coffee free. Now, I know she likes me. It pays off to have friends in high places, such as, at the coffee counter at Starbucks. I get served before anyone else.

"Cindy, here comes that weirdo Freddie," said Jack, the manager. "Get his coffee ready and just hand it too him. I don't care if you give it to him for free. I just want him out of here."

"Okay, Jack," said Cindy watching the doorway for my approach with coffee ready in hand.

A couple months ago, the day after she smiled at me, I bought a dozen white, long-stem roses and built up the courage to ask her out. I was nervous because she is so very beautiful. Yet, I know that my life would be so much better if she was my girlfriend. She is the kind of women who would make me get rid of my bicycle and go out and buy a car, albeit a used car. Maybe, even a Buick like my Dad.

"Well, thanks a lot for telling me that joke and making me laugh, Jack, because here comes our resident weirdo and now he thinks that I was smiling at him."

Cynthia looked over at me and quickly looked away. She was probably embarrassed that I caught her staring at me. I looked sharp today, if I say so myself. I bought a new outfit at Wal-Mart yesterday and I wore it to Starbucks today. Only, I left the tags on it so that I can bring it all back tomorrow. Hey, thirty bucks is a lot of money to pay for a pair of pants, a shirt, underwear, socks, and shoes. Right now, my ass itches from the tags on my briefs and my feet hurt from my too tight shoes.

Unfortunately, when I presented the roses to Cynthia and asked her out on a date to go and play miniature golf with me, she pushed the flowers across the counter at me.

"Listen, I want to be clear with you," she said making eye contact. She has such beautiful blue eyes and when she leaned forward like that across the counter, I could see down her blouse. I saw her bra and nearly saw her nipple. Wow. I can't wait to go home and jerk-off over that sight.

I don't like you," she said. Only, I know she was playing hard to get. "You are a very strange man. Lastly, you are way too old for me. I am only 23-years-old and you are like 40-years-old."

"Well, thank you for the compliment, Cynthia. Actually, I'm much older than 40."

"Look, just take your flowers and leave, please. Okay?"

Jack, the manager came from around the counter to confront me. I could tell that he was jealous that I was making time with his imagined girlfriend. Probably, he felt awkward that I had the forethought to buy her roses and he didn't, which is why she did not accept them. I figured that Cynthia did not want Jack to know that she was interested in me instead of him because he would surely fire her.

"Don't worry, Cynthia, your secret is safe with me," I said whispering the words and blowing her a kiss, as I left.

"Listen," said Jack escorting me out, "I don't want you coming in here anymore and bothering my help." He held open the door for me and deposited me on the sidewalk. "Do you understand? You can't come in here anymore."

"But, I'm in love with Cynthia."

"Listen, Pal, if I see you in here again, I'm calling the cops. Do you understand? If you enter this business establishment again, I will have you arrested for trespassing."

Now, I was having serious doubts about Cynthia's affection for me. I was so depressed, crushed actually. I did not know what to do. Now, that I was banned from that Starbucks, unable to get my double daily dose of Cynthia, I had to go clear across the street to the other Starbucks and get my coffee from a grumpy, overweight woman my age.

How could I make Cynthia fall in love with me? What else could I possibly do? I bought her flowers, wore my best Wal-Mart outfit, and even splashed on some of that Brute cologne sample that they had open on the counter.

Someone told me that I should visit a witch and have her cast a spell, a love spell, to make Cynthia fall in love with me. Where the Hell am I going to find a witch? Moreover, how much does it cost for a witch to cast a spell? I'm sure a love spell is an expensive proposition, but my Cynthia is worth it, especially if I can get her to love me.

Then, I thought of Salem. Fortunately, I live in Massachusetts, the witch capital of the world. With the exception of Transylvania, Salem is the most famous and supremely supernatural place to immerse yourself in the occult. Further, Halloween is the day when all the witches come out in public to play and participate in the celebration of Halloween. Everyone in the entire town dresses up in costume. People come to Salem, Massachusetts from all over the world to celebrate Halloween week.

Halloween, October 31st, is a magical date in the world of witches and the occult. I've been told that if a witch casts a spell on that date, there is a 100% chance of it working. I was intent on having the witch cast the love spell on Cynthia on Halloween.

I decided to kill two birds with one stone. My Dad has an eye doctor near there in Beverly where he used to live. God forbid he changes his doctor. No, instead, let me drive him all the way from Boston to Beverly for his appointment. Anyway, I figured that when I drove my Dad to Beverly, I would stop off at the Witch's place of business on the way back and have her make me a love spell.

Well, let me tell you, I had no idea spells were so complicated. Fortunately, she had most of the ingredients needed to cast the spell, such as root, sage, sweet grass, talisman and love charms, vanilla, rue, myrtle, violet, rose, apple, apricot, yarrow, rosemary, thyme, meadowsweet, lemon, dragon's blood, frogs' eyes, clove, dill, crow's claw, clear quartz, Dung beetles, and lizard tongue. Yuck!

All that was required from me for her to do the spell was a photo of Cynthia and a few strands of her beautiful, long blonde hair. I figured the photo would not be a problem. The hair may be another issue entirely. As luck would have it, I sent my father in with my cell phone to get our coffees and hopefully take her picture while I waited in the car. My father is a coy one.

"Dad, I can't believe you not only got the photo of Cynthia but also you got her hair? How did you do it?"

"Easy, Son, I told her that she was such a pretty girl and asked her if I could take her photo. When she smiled and posed, I asked her if she could remove her Starbucks hat. When she did, I noticed there were some strands of hair still in the hat. Accidentally, on purpose, I knocked her hat off the counter to the floor and when I leaned down to retrieve it I removed the strands of hair. Then, I took her picture."

"You are amazing, Dad. Thank you so very much."

Since I had the photo and the strands of Cynthia's hair, I decided to drive my father to pick up his new glasses on October 31st. That way, the witch will cast her love spell on that magical date. It was guaranteed that Cynthia would fall in love.

Well, that was five years ago and now my beautiful Cynthia lives with me in my big house with my 80-year-old Dad. Pardon me for a moment; I want to see my father off. He's going out to a Halloween masquerade ball.

"Hey, you two have a good time."

Yep, he married my Cynthia five years ago. The witch told me that because he personally took the photo of Cynthia and because he collected her hair, the love spell was inadvertently directed at him.

That bitch witch switched my hitch.

Now, do you understand why I hate Halloween?

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