Potent potions

Tres megistos magnus Hermes

Coram coram bamudores

Nos laudamus formam formans

Bamudamus Damudores

Finishing the incantation, Sylvia reached for the paper she had written on, onion skin as prescribed, added a lock of her auburn hair that she had carefully cut, folded it into the paper and placed it in the beaker with the solution of tobasco sauce and lemon, also as instructed. Oddly, a small pink eraser flopped onto the counter. This woke up her Siamese cat, which immediately knocked it onto the floor.

She was 22, a bank teller, intuitive, and living alone in Buffalo, not by choice. There was a knock at her apartment door. Glancing in the mirror she saw that her makeup was streaked. She reached for a paper towel and touched it up quickly.

Aunt Agnes entered the apartment a bit brusquely. The beaker on the counter told her all she needed to know. "Did it work?" she asked directly, looking at her niece head on. "No, I can see it didn't," she shook her head.

"Oh Auntie," Sylvia burst out, "I've tried and I've tried but no luck. Now how can I go back to the sisters and say that I've failed?"

Agnes muttered under her breath, and took her phone out of a Gucci bag. "I can see it's high time for an intervention." She texted her What's App group.

"Thanks, Auntie, but they're so--"

"Old? Out of date? Not with the trends? And that's a bad thing? They're on their way here. We'll see who's helpful and who's full of it."

Sibyll and Connie wasted no time in arriving, eager to help. Agnes explained briefly, "Her spell didn't work and she's mortified."

"What was the spell for?" Sibyll asked.

"For love," Sylvia answered.

"Don't be embarrassed, dear," Sibyll remarked. "Spells and potions for love can be challenging."

"Especially when they come from the Weird Sisters," Agnes noted, half under her breath.

Connie joined in, "Give us a look see? I mean the text."

Sylvia passed the Latin-like words to her aunt's friend.

"Is it that Bradshaw boy?" Agnes queried. "The one who's gone to catch a ball in the B league? You could do much better, you know."

"It's Triple A baseball, Auntie. It's just one step below major league."

"My dear you're major league. Why does he have to go to Rhode Island to catch a ball? We have a team right here in Buffalo. There's Toronto too. That's nearby."

Connie finished her quick reading of the text. "The words are doggerel, and it's not a love incantation. More something to do with the Demiurge, I think."

"The Demiurge?" Sibyll exclaimed.

"Yes," Connie continued. "Goes on about Hermes Tresmegistos and such. I suppose you could use it to form a small object."

"Like this eraser?" Sylvia asked.

This was too much for Sibyll. "Casting spells to make little erasers? They sell them at the corner store, two for 99 cents."

"But why," Sylvia was baffled, "Why would they give me that spell when I asked for a love charm?"

"I think we can help you there," Agnes said kindly. "You know we were originally all in the same coven. They say they left us, we say they left them. Who cares who left who? The reason, at the bottom of it, is that they are all man-haters and we are all married to decent men, good men. I've never regretted marrying your uncle for a single day. Oh he can be a pain sometimes, but so can I. And when push comes to shove, he's there for me. Now the Weird Sisters, they see things differently. They think the world would be a better place with no men. So you ask them for a spell to get Bill Bradshaw to come home, they're going to laugh in your face just to make a point. Do you see?"

Sylvia's pale complexion flushed with anger. "They're mocking me!" she exclaimed. "I shared my private feelings and they're mocking me!"

"Not very sisterly," Connie pointed out.

"Not all witches are well intentioned and mannerly like us," Sibyll observed.

"Do you see now why I warned you in the first place to stay way from that lot?" Agnes said. "Still, you did conjure up an eraser. I always knew you have the gift. Ah your mother, she was a witch and a half, and you've inherited her talents."

"What do I do now?" Sylvia asked.

"What indeed," Agnes mused. "Give us a moment dearie, while the three of us have a short chat."

The trio lowered their voices and huddled. The cat suddenly became interested and joined their circle. Connie asked Sylvia, "Do you have eye of newt, dear?" Sylvia nodded. "Good." More discussion. Sylvia heard, "Well if she's willing of course."

The confab complete, they turned to Sylvia. Connie asked her, "Have you had it with that breakway coven? Are you ready to renounce your affiliation with them?"

It took Sylvia only a moment. "Yes, yes I am."

"Good," Sibyll rejoined. "Whatever photos you have of them, tear them up now."

"They're all on my phone," Sylvia explained.

"Then erase them," Agnes said. "Now."

Sylvia made short work of the photos.

"Now you must recite the words of renunciation. Repeat after me. 'Wretched sisters, teeth of blue. I have had enough of you!'

Sylvia repeated the words, almost shouting on the last word you, just as Sibyll had. "Good, you're clear of that coven," Connie said, "You need a new coven. How would you feel about joining ours?"

"Really?" Sylvia said eagerly.

"Well you have the gift," Sibyll noted. "You made that silly spell work."

"Join hands," Sibyll ordered, and they did. "Four fine sisters, one for all. All for one, and all for fun!" They all laughed.

"We mostly do white magic," Connie explained, "though now and then we do a little something for revenge. Speaking of which, that eye of newt and your beaker..."

Sylvia retrieved it from the refrigerator. "What's the name of the one who gave you that incantation?" Sibyll asked.

"Brittany," Sylvia answered.

Connie spoke, "Brittany, Brittany, how is your lunch? Did you eat meat or did you eat fruit? I think you're eating an eye of newt!" And she tossed the eye into the beaker. The cat cackled, as only a Siamese can.

Somewhere across town, a pretentious, overdressed young lady choked on her quiche and made a beeline to the toilet.

"Oh and there's something else, I think," Sibyll's eyes twinkled. The trio said together, "Billie Bradshaw!" Sylvia blushed.

"I know how to do this one," Agnes said conspiratorially. We'll take turns. She whispered to the other two. "You start, Connie."

"Shine on, shine on harvest moon, up in the sky..."

Sibyll continued, "She ai'n't loved nobody since January, February, June, and July..."

Agnes brought it home, "Billie Bradshaw you're a fool, and you know why. You've a lovely girl here, and you can't even catch a fly."

And in Pawtucket, in the ninth inning with two men out and the score tied, the center fielder got a bead on a high pop fly, but just as he had it in his sights, and was watching it descend towards his glove, the sun was just at the wrong angle, he blinked, and he lost it, missed it, and watched it fall to the turf, making a base hit for the batter, the hit driving the winning run in. The coach was livid. "Bradshaw!" he bellowed. "I'll bust you down to the bush league!"

"Sorry, coach," Billie explained, "I can't stay. I've got to get back to Buffalo before some other guy snaps up my gal. I'm not cut out for baseball. I'll go farther in my uncle's bank.

The business of the coven being accomplished, Sibyll, ever the traditionalist, asked, "When shall we four meet again?"

Connie asked, "In thunder, lightning, or in rain?"

Agnes added, "Where the place? Within the mall. Starbucks, of course!" and she pulled a gift card out of the bulging Gucci bag.

Dear reader, does the world run on money, or does it run on friendship? May the magic enliven your life.