The Witch's Brew: A Collection of Hilarious Short Stories Starring the Wicked Witch of the West (10 page)

It began to snow, and as the snow flies on a cold and gray Chicago morn, Jesus drove the cab over the poor little child that had just been born, in the ghetto. He looked out the window at the baby’s mama that was sighing with relief, cause if there’s on
e thing that she didn’t need was another hungry mouth to feed, in the ghetto.

Jesus drove away, much to the Wicked Witch’s wonder. “Jesus,” she said, “don’t you understand, the poor little child needs a helping hand?”

Jesus looked at her. “There ain’t nothing
I
can do for him. He’s dead. And look at the bright side. At least now he won’t grow to be an angry young man.”

The monster
and Al looked at each other out the corner of their eyes before turning their heads and looking the other way.

Then one night in desperation, a Bumpa-Lumpa jumped out in front of the cab which came to a screeching halt. The Bumpa-Lumpa, having bought a gun, tried to steal the car, but Jesus floored it and ran the Bumpa-Lumpa down and his mama cried.

A crowd gathered round an angry Bumpa-Lumpa laying face down on the street with a gun in his hand, in the ghetto.

As her young Bumpa-Lumpa died on a cold and gray Chicago morn, another little Bumpa-Lumpa is born, in the ghetto. And his hunger burns. So, too, does wood.

Pinocchio ran from the fire as fast as his little legs would carry him, but the fire was fast and it caught up to Pinocchio and bit him on the bum. He dropped to the ground and rolled this way and that, hoping to put out the fire. Sirens wailed in the distance. Moments later, a fire truck flew around the corner and pulled over next to Pinocchio. Fireman Sam jumped off the back of the truck holding a hose and squirted water at the flames on Pinocchio’s butt. If he had arrived a moment sooner and if the water had hit the flames just a moment earlier, the great gas explosion of 1929 would never have happened. It blew Pinocchio sky high, and with every yard he flew he wished to God he’d had eggs instead of baked beans on toast for breakfast that morning. Fireman Sam didn’t escape unharmed either. In fact, he was so badly injured that his TV show was put on hold until further notice. To fill the void, the BBC created a character called Bob the Builder. One of the jockeys from the following Saturday’s race 8 approached him. Could he fix it? Bob thought for a moment then replied, “Leave it with me.” He approached several of the other jockeys, hoping to sound them out. What he didn’t know was the jockey that approached him was an undercover police officer. So were several of the other jockeys and the whole thing was a police sting. The end result was that Bob is now serving time in jail for trying to fix it.

Jesus turned a corner and in the distance there was a group of Bumpa-Lumpas standing shoulder to shoulder with the Seven Dwarfs. All of them were well-armed and ready to rumble. The Wicked Witch turned to Al who was looking straight ahead. This was his town and no one, especially not a group of midgets, was going to take it from him. With a glint in his eye, he said, “Let’s show these guys who the
real
baddies are.”

Jesus pulled over and they all got out. Al opened the trunk and pulled out several rifles. He ha
nded one each to Jesus, the monster, and Wendy. He kept one for himself and together they marched toward the Bumpa-Lumpas and the Seven Dwarfs.

Jesus fired first, hitting a Bumpa-Lumpa in the h
eart, killing him instantly. The monster fired
its
gun, hitting Happy in the head. Now Happy’s dead. Poor Happy.

The remaining Bumpa-Lumpas turned and ran. Wendy picked them off one by one. Jesus cornered one of the Seven Dwarfs, grabbed him, and threw him
in the air. The dwarf landed heavily on the ground. A man ran over and measured the distance between Jesus and the dwarf. Thirteen feet. Jesus punched the air triumphantly for thirteen feet was enough to win that year’s World Dwarf Throwing Championship. First prize was an all-expenses paid trip to New York which included the use of a 1926 Dodge Sedan. They gave him the keys to the car and told him, “New York. If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere.”

Jesus climbed into the car and turned the key in the ignition. The engine coughed and spluttered then fell out of the car and onto the ground. Smoke poured out from under the hood. He climbed out of the car and looked at the front end.
New York. If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere
. “I’ll
never
make it there, because this thing is a pile of fucking
junk
.” He kicked the wheel as hard as he could and broke his toe. That’s what happens when you kick a car tyre while wearing only sandals. You break your toe. Silly Jesus.

The monster
took aim at the other Dwarfs. It fired its gun and the bullet hit Doc who forgot to duck. Not only did Doc forget to duck, but now the Doc that forgot to duck is dead. The monster turned and fired its gun again, this time hitting ... ummm ... oh shit, forget it. I’m gonna quit this chapter while I’m ahead (I’ll tell you later what happened to the rest of my body).

CHAPTER
THREE

T
he battle ended and the Wicked Witch looked around at the cabbage. She grabbed a few leaves to take home to make cabbage soup because this was the twenties and money was in short supply which meant food was too.

I ran over to Wendy with a copy of the script in hand. “Goddam it, Wendy. After all this time working for me, I still can’t believe you can’t get it right first time.”

Wendy turned to me. “What now, for crying out loud?”

I pointed out the dead little bodies that were riddled with bullet holes and splattered with blood. “Does this look like I might have written cabbage?” I pointed out the line in the script. “See?”

Wendy went red with embarrassment. “Ahhh, shit.” She shook her head. “My bad.”

I left the set and sat back down in my chair. “Action.”

The Wicked Witch looked around at the carnage. Dead little bodies that were riddled with bullet holes and splattered with blood littered the ground. Wendy turned to the monster that was pumping iron. On the other side of the road, Bat And Two Balls Between My Legs Man was giving it to Sooperdooperpooperman from behind. I guess you could say that while the monster was pumping iron, Bat And Two Balls Between My Legs Man was pumping steel. BWAHAHA!!

Wendy looked ov
er at Jesus who was watching the monster’s weights. I guess he didn’t get what I meant when I suggested he visit Weight Watchers.

Wendy turned to Al and smiled. “Happy St Valentine’s Day Massacre, Mr Capone.”

Al kissed the back of her hand then headed down the street. But this story is written by me and anyone that knows what I do knows that nothing is happily ever after. To that end, Mr Fred Schneider flew overhead, pulled down his pants, and let go a rock-hard poo that hit Al on the head and knocked him clear into next week. The headline on the front page of the next day’s paper read, “AL CAPONE HIT BY A BOMB FROM A LOW-FLYING B-52”.

By the way, want to know what happened to the rest of my body? It was blown away in World War 2. All’s good, though. I released a parody of Roger Graham’s
I Ain’t Got Nobody
called
I Ain’t Got No Body
(featuring the now famous line, “No sweet mama’s gonna take a chance on me, coz I ain’t got no body”) and made a small fortune. I now live on a private island somewhere in the Pacific waited on by several servants. I’m yet to work out how to go to the toilet.

Thank you, and goodnight.

THE END

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THE WITCH’S BREW

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