“The heads of a hundred horses will be lodged in your cheek, you freak!”
The witch was still trying to cast a spell on Slub Glub. “With my fourth eye I espy your feet festooned with flies!”
“Be careful, Lumprella, remember what happened last time,” said a second witch, gesturing for the head hag Lumprella, the queen of the cackling crones, to stop her hoodoo-ing.
“What happened last time?” Slub Glub asked. The witches glanced at each other, but were mum on the subject. Then one of the hyenas ventured forth.
“They think their witchery has raised the spirits of the dead, and now phantoms are following them, seeking revenge for the disturbance of their rest,” the hyena said
“I know how they feel,” Slub Glub replied.
Lumprella broke down into confessional crowing. “It’s true! Our incantations have awakened the restless souls of the deceased! Our spells are too strong! Our hexes are too effective! Too black in their blackedness and magical in their magicality! The doorways of the doomed have flung open and hideous apparitions from beyond the grave now haunt our waking moments… Soon they will catch up to us and drag us back to their bleak and barren land! That is why we must light our torches with butter from hyena bottoms and ride these creatures though the woods, their hyena mockery reverberating through the shrubbery as we mesmerize their mammal minds, manipulating their mandibles to laugh at all in the night. What else can we do? What else can prevent these ghosts from feeding upon our bones and boiling us in our own brewed stew?”
Willowmina pondered this explanation a moment, and then commented back that this all sounded very complicated and perhaps these ghosts that they were running from were really just fireflies.
To be continued.
Table of Contents: “Slub Glub in the Weird World of the Weeping Willows”
Get the graphic novel from Eraserhead Press.
Illustration & text copyright (c) Andrew Goldfarb