Beware of the Black Arts! My name is Gloria Gatlin and I feel that it is my personal responsibility to warn those wishing to enlist the black arts to do their bidding. Only witches, shamans, and warlocks should be practicing magic, allowing those not trained in the arts of black magic access to such power and knowledge is reckless endangerment.
Our society places warning labels on each and every toy, tool, and item sold, so why shouldn't spell books come with warning labels too? I recently purchased a DVD player and read the instructions for its installation. The warning label advised, "Power supply is only recommended for electrical outlets equipped with a ground plug, and should not be used in any human orifices. Doing so could lead to severe health hazard." My new hair dryer even came with a warning, "Do not use while asleep, could be a fire hazard." My recommended warning label for magic paraphernalia would be, "Warning: only those trained in magic should be using this product. Non-experienced persons should seek a professional!"
Let me further persuade you by telling of my own true and unfortunate experience in this matter:
Evan and I had only been together a short time. He was a very demanding person, both professionally and at home, but he was especially so in bed. If he didn't get what he called "tooty" at least three times a day, he was hell to be around. At first, this was fine by me; I enjoyed the affection and reciprocated eagerly.
Seven months into the relationship, I found that my career was overwhelming me. This combined with Evan's demands for my affection left me exhausted. I worked all day, came home and he was waiting. I cooked supper, we ate and again he was waiting. I would get ready for bed and again, he was waiting. Next morning, it started all over again. If men could bottle what drove him, there would be no need for Viagra. It could be called "EvanUp".
"Hey lazy ass, get your butt in here and give me some tooty!" Evan demanded.
"We just finished less than 30 minutes ago; I'm trying to cook some supper. I'm fix'n your favorite dish, roast duck with Peking sauce;" I said in an attempt to pacify him.
"How long is that gonna take? You better not cook it too long; it'll be like that leather of a dish you call lasagna."
"Maybe ten more minutes, if you'll let me finish." I replied. Praying he would wait.
Dinner was served 11 minutes later, and he ravenously devoured the duck. He ate like a swarm of flies on a gourmet bed of rotting flesh. Juice was trickling down the corner of his mouth, only to be captured by his wild lapping tongue in one sweep below his lip.
"It's better than your leather lasagna, thank God!" He complimented. "Now go to the bedroom, undress, and I'll be there to show you how a real man satisfies his woman!"
I obeyed, that was all I could do without starting a huge fight that would end with him screaming and shouting obscenities. He wasn't like this when we first met, he was so kind, loving and respectful to me; but he had changed. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't talk with him, because he had another problem: anger. He would explode if I blinked the wrong way; but he hadn't hit me yet. The scars left by his mental abuse were enough; I wouldn't wait for it to become physical. I lived, ate and breathed according to his rules and desires, which I called 'The Book of Evan'. I had never heard him utter the words 'I'm sorry'; if he did I would probably collapse in horror.
So, I decided talk to Juana, a friend of mine from work. She was such a bubbly person, so alive and carefree. She seemed to be one of the few truly caring people, unlike the lawyers we worked with. I explained my dilemma to her in the span of an extended two-hour lunch at McDonald's on Friday.
"Personally, I can't get enough sex; however, Evan's rage is what worries me and what he might do to you. I've had a few boyfriends with bad tempers; most of the time physical abuse soon follows. Girl, you don't want to be on the receiving end when this happens. He sounds like an insecure and controlling turd getting ready to take a shit. You really want to stay with this nut and be on the receiving end when he dumps?"
"If he could change" I said.
"Would it be worth your time and effort to try something unconventional to lessen his sex drive and temper?"
I took a deep breath and said, "Juana, I can't go on like this. I am physically and emotionally drained from all the pressure. I am willing to do almost anything."
"Alright then, here's what you'll do. First go to Don's Magic Shop"
"Wait a minute, a magic shop...what's that gonna do?" I was skeptical.
"Listen, I've done this before with one of my ex's and it worked just fine," she defended.
"Ok, I'll try it, what's the name of this shop again?"
"Don's Magic Shop, at the corner of 5th and States Street. Tim is a real sweet guy, we used to date. Ask for him only. He will have everything ready and waiting for you to cast a "spell of security", but you must follow his instructions exactly.
"I've never done anything like this b...be...fore; it won't hurt him will it?" I asked.
"He shouldn't feel a thing, and he will be less of a demanding turd." She insisted.
The next morning, I woke up early and gently slipped out of bed without waking Evan. I quietly dressed and was gone before nine. My plans seemed to be going just fine and all my problems would be over by the end of the day, Evan would be less demanding and I would be happy. At least he slept until noon on Saturdays to balance for working long hours during the week.
I turned onto States Street and 3rd Street was to my left. As I approached 5th Avenue, I saw Don's Magic Shop in faded letters above what appeared to be a dilapidated facade. I was uneasy, but I parked in front of the shambled exterior. Chimes rhythmically sounded as I opened the glass door. A man in his early twenties with long locks of twisted hair was sitting behind the counter.
"Is Tim here?" I asked nervously.
"I'm he, you must be Gloria. Juana told me you would be coming by. Everything is here and ready." He said as he sat a brown paper sack on the counter.
"What do I do?" I said.
"I have written instructions on a piece of paper inside. Follow the directions and cast the spell exactly as I have written and your problems will be over."
"It's that easy? Just follow the directions and, "poof" they're gone?"
"Yes.now, how would you like to pay? It's $20.95 and we take cash or check", Tim said.
"Cash", I replied.
My supplies were in hand and I was on my way home. I arrived at our apartment at 11. I had just an hour before Evan would wake. I sat the bag on the little kitchen table and opened it, pulling out the instruction sheet first. It read as follows:
In large glass bowl, mix the following: 1 package of love, cup of patience, 8 ounces of liquid passion, and two tablespoons of transforming powder. Mix well and add your own spit twice. Next, you will need 3 hairs from the intended recipient. Once this is combined, light the enclosed black candles and place in a circle around the glass bowl. Remove all clothing and circle the bowl clockwise thrice. Say the following chant three times: Dom-men-nee, an-eh-mus, fed-n-t-uh, canick-you-la, ab-row-gow, trad-ooh-sss-eee-ooooo.
I slipped into the bedroom without disturbing him and returned with his hair brush and plucked 3 hairs from it. I pulled the glass bowl from the cupboard and began. I carefully measured the powder labeled "love" and dumped it into the bowl. It really stank. It took me 8 minutes to mix the ingredients and undress.
I stood there naked feeling like I had just bought land on Mars. I sat the bowl in the middle of the floor, placed the candles around it and lit them. I walked around the bowl thrice, waving my arms back and forth like an idiot. I know that wasn't part of the spell, but I was feeling pretty ridiculous.
Then I began to chant. I could scarcely pronounce these words, so I was really hoping that wouldn't affect the outcome of the spell. Dom-MEN-EEEE! Dom-MEN-ee! Aneemoos! Fed-DEN-she-ah! CAN-AH-Lick-ul-la! Abroooogooo! Evan, Tra-DOOS-SEE-O!
When I finished the chant, the candles blew out and there was a greenish opaque fog hovering over the bowl. It began lifting higher and higher into the air and slowly floated toward the bedroom. I followed and barely made it to the bedroom in time to see it ooze into Evan's open mouth. Immediately, he began choking and woke up.
There I was standing in all my finest of apparel. At least when he woke, he'd think I was ready to start our routine, and I'd earn some brownie points. "Evan, are you ok?"
"Yeah, I think so, but I have this horrible taste in my mouth." He staggered a bit as he got up from the bed and headed toward the bathroom. Guttural sounds with intermittent splashes echoed off the bathroom walls as he threw up.
"Honey, are you sure you're alright?" Guilt in the form of tiny beads of perspiration was forming over my brow. Oh my gosh, I've poisoned him!
"I'll be fine in a second, this taste in my mouth made me nauseous. It must have been that roast duck you cooked last night. When are you gonna learn to cook, am I gonna have start eatingouuu"
A hard thud shook the floor before he could finish the sentence. I was paralyzed. I had killed him. What was I gonna do, call 911 and tell them I was unhappy because my boyfriend wanted too much sex, so I danced around naked and put a hex on him?
Finally the nerve endings in my legs answered my brain's request for them to move. I rushed into the bathroom and found him in collapsed heap with drool trailing from the left corner of his gaping mouth. His body was trembling and he was babbling, "whaa, whaa, blub, blub, blub."
Several days had past since I cast the spell on Evan. He was recovering slowly with very few side-effects from the potion. I called his office and told them he had gotten the flu and would be in just as soon as he was feeling better. I stayed by his side, made sure he was warm, fed him and bathed him.
My office was becoming impatient with my absence, so I had to go in the following Monday. Juana immediately ushered me into her office when I arrived. "What happened, did you cast the spell? I was worried about you; you've been gone for over a week."
I couldn't be mad at Juana because it was my decision to try casting the spell. At least for the last 10 days, I had been able to somewhat rest from my sexual duties.
"Evan hasn't been feeling well, so I've been home taking care of him. That spell just did something to him; he's not the same person. He hasn't yelled or demanded sex since then, and he's got a wonderful temperament."
"Thank goodness! I thought something horrible happened."
"Well, something did happen. The spell created a green fog that almost killed him, but he's getting better. It had a few other side effects, but I'm learning to live with them. He's been peeing all over the floor, won't sleep on his side of the bed anymore, and constantly licks himself in "that" area."
"Licks himself.in "that" area, how..what..do you mean?" She said confused.
"He just bends over and licks himself, and he really seems a lot happier. I am fulfilling all his needs except for sex, and he hasn't complained once!"
"Wait a minute; is there something you're not telling me?"
"No, he's just the perfect companion. He lies by my side and watches TV with me, looks at me lovingly like I'm the best he'll ever have, and never raises his voice. I don't think that he even desires to have sex with me, but that's ok by me. I ain't having sex with a dog!"
So, you can now see firsthand from my experience with "spells" that it is very dangerous to dabble in things that you are not qualified to do. Warning labels should be required on all magic paraphernalia and only those with licenses should be allowed to purchase these items.
I was one of the lucky inexperienced users of magic! Evan has the temperament and obedience of a Collie. I've heard a horror story of this spell backfiring on others, one being a very prominent member of society. Well, you may know to whom I am referring. Just look what happened to poor Hillary Clinton's husband. There should be no question; the danger is very real and apparent. Need I say more?