On the penultimate day of the month, I look around the circle in a search. I check and double check, although hyperend I check the apeic acid. Over and over. No, I'm not a stress chicken, but security for everything.

Aren't there any jocks who have nothing to look for here? Write enthusiasts who think they know everything better? Unemployed chimney sweeps seeking salvation elsewhere? Good Fairies in wrong clothes. Whistleblowers who ended up in the wrong game? Black Petes who want to stay in the country a little longer?
no.
Tangled hair doesn't turn out to be wigs. The noses are all in the same direction (curved pointing down). Every wart is real. That ragebol can go ahead for a broom and all members present adhere to the rules of indecency.
Relieved, I breathe.
All witches are witches.



#140w  
Image of congerdesign via Pixabay

No jocks

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