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TRUE TALES FROM THE SIDE SHOW: If Witches Worked Curses - Trickle of Consciousness — LiveJournal
jkason
jkason
TRUE TALES FROM THE SIDE SHOW: If Witches Worked Curses
S. Ron Bartley and Kellan Mueller shared with us this story from their upcoming dissertation on Louisiana folk tales. Their interview subject, a local storyteller, insists on the veracity of the details...

Now, cheres, when all this started, our boy was a looker, him. And he knew how to use it, he did. The ladies all but threw themselves at him, and didn't he never say no. More than once he found himself on the wrong side of an angry beau, but that was always just time to find a new town, no?

But then he met himself just the wrong gal, didn't he? 'Course, he didn't know that at first. Just like he knew to keep his true self hid, that gal knew to leave her secrets at home when she went into town.

So all he knew about this chere was that he wanted her, and weren't no magic could help a body when our boy turned on his charms, yes? Weren't no time at all before he'd bedded that gal and had his way with her, and while she was sleeping, he ran right off into the night to find another bed he ain't yet warmed.

Only I already told you, this wasn't just any angry girl, no. She had power, she did. That girl, she went back to her swamp, and she called up her powers and found just where that rapscallion run off to.

Sure 'nough, the next night she snuck up and found that lothario making nice with another gal. Heard her telling him how sweet his mouth was and how she just wanted to curl up with him, and that was about all she could take, her.

She sprung up in a cloud of smoke, and oh, that couple they cowered like les petits at that sight. And when he saw that gal there, with a giant snake draped around her, our boy knew it for a familiar, and that gal for a swamp witch, and he knew just what a big, big mistake he made, but it was already too late: that witch had her arms going, and both those souls knew there was a curse coming.

"You like that sweet mouth so much, you'll see it from the inside," the witch said while her snake writhed and she worked her magic in the air. "Make you a hare, I will, and you little man, you can be the snake you really are, and eat her up quick as a crawfish gobbles down minnows and fish eggs."

Ah, but that was her mistake, see, 'cause that witch's familiar didn't like one bit his lady using 'snake' for an insult, him. So just when she was casting the last of that hex, he tickled her rib, and the curse went sideways: instead o' turning into a hare, the poor gal in her nightdress grew hair, all over her chin. And that man? He didn't get the scales or the forked tongue, no. He wound up with claws just like that hungry crawfish the witch talked about.

Weren't nobody quite come out happy in the end of that, no, but just about everybody learned them a lesson about making the wrong person mad. Whether that's a gal, a swamp witch, or even a cranky old snake. Always watch your words, I say. And that's all the more there is to it.

Did a supernatural mishap change three souls forever? And where might such transformed bodies go? Find out now through May 5 at The Players Theatre!

Previous entries in the series:
The Fortune Teller
The Cannibal King
In the Blood

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