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November 7th, 2018 Leave a comment Go to comments

Ever tried riding a broom? You have no idea, sister. Those handles are only an inch wide, you know. It takes every ounce of strength in your thighs just to hold on. My crotch is constantly aching and my labia are bruised. And I haven’t even mentioned my aching back yet. There’s so much tension involved in trying to balance on that toothpick that I could get a month-long massage and still be keyed up. You should feel my traps. They’re tight as guitar strings. These callouses on my palms make me crazy too, from gripping for dear life. It’s not like us hags wear gloves and I couldn’t if I wanted to. Not with these nails.

That’s just getting around! The cauldrons smell terrible. I feel like vomiting every time an eye of newt gets thrown in, seriously. Worse than okra, that smell. Seems like there’s one in everything too. Then for some reason the spells only work if chanted into the bowl, so you’re hunched over this iron tub with rancid vapor steaming into your face the whole while. It takes days to scrub the stench out of my hair. All this, with a bad back to boot. Never mind the chants themselves. “Double, double, toil and trouble…” I mean, really? I’ve yet to recite one that wasn’t greeting-card level ridiculous.

The worst are the weekly conference calls with Satan though. He makes politicians seem mute. Hours and hours of the same stories and grievances and scheming. It’s sad in a way, but more than that just boring. It would be tough not to daydream during those marathons if He didn’t insist on doing video calls. Somehow he manages to watch all 300,000 of us all at once. And over Skype! It’s almost 2019! I swear the moment I logoff from the session I start dreading the next week’s one. It’s like I’m always in Hell without even having to make the trip, you know? But that’s what makes him Satan. He’s just so damned good at the job.

Anyway, to answer your question: yes, I am ready to order. What’s the soup of the day again?

Categories: satan
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