Hello Lady
Welcome to the club.
It’s called —
Witches & Bitches (W&B)
(who are 30 and above)
The W&B Club
was established eons ago —
with souls of burned witches
who had nowhere to go.
Some W&Bs brew potions — or poisons,
some just smoke and watch.
One W&B likes to play dress-up,
another one bakes a batch.
In the club, you can’t talk,
but a W&B communicates through a look.
We roll our eyes, we smirk, we nudge —
laughing till the mascaras smudge.
We read our books,
and write, and feel —
with cats for company
and fondues for meal.
All of a sudden,
the cauldron’s on fire —
someone broke the rules,
and now the W&Bs scatter for cover.
Someone throws a cold leftover in,
and now the fire’s put out.
The W&Bs shake their heads,
raise their eyebrows —
“Let’s cast a spell!”
‘Witchy poo, witchy poo,
show your face — tell us, what did you do?’
The culprit is out —
she looks funny!
It was a man in disguise.
He looks around, red lipstick on,
and admits he’s a spy.
He was sent by the Gods,
from a cloud nearby.
“Go on — speak, spy-man!
Whatcha doin’ with this funny ruse?”
The spy confesses —
“The Gods are miffed,
they’re blowing a fuse.”
“What for?” a W&B mocks,
no words — just a twisted smile.
“You brew potions and eat fondues all day,”
“The Gods think they do all the work
while you just lay — it’s just not fair.”
“Not fair?” laughs one.
“Not fair, you say?
We are burned witches,
but our souls roam free.
We are not constrained by men or Gods —
we live here as we please.
Spy-man, spy-man,
go tell the Gods —
we don’t care.
Do your best,
bring it on, come at us —
rest assured,
the poison won’t go to waste.”
“Can I stay, please?” the spy-man pleads.
“The Gods make me work for a meagre fee.
They have ego trips and boast all day,
drunk to the gills and making a scene.
I swear — it’s a donkey’s life
for poor old me.”
The W&Bs smile.
“It’s okay, come on in —
sleep by that pile.
You can stay here
and brew potions with us.
We’ll send one of us to the Gods —
no disguise.”
A W&B raises her hand
and asks,
“Let me go, let me go —
I will speak to them
and find out more.”
Off she goes,
with fondue and treats,
to the cloud nearby —
musing to her heartbeat.
She knocks at the gate,
lets herself in —
boiling fondue pot in hand,
a sight to be seen.
The Gods give way
and whisper to themselves,
“Is this spy-man
transformed as a goddess?”
“No,” smirks the witch,
“the spy-man rests with the W&Bs.
I’m here to speak to the manager —
I have a peace offering.”
The manager enters and the witch begins-
“You’re mad at us for brewing potions,
you complain you do too much.
But here’s the thing, you little
mighty Gods —
listen carefully,
and hey — the fondue’s hot, don’t touch.”
“You think —
you work all day,
keep chaos at bay.
The mighty Gods
have no time to play.
But just take a look below —
the world you protect
is knocked out
and hollow.”
“So what can we do?” a God blurts out.
“Should we trade places
and let you witches rule instead?”
“Yes — why not?”
the W&B responds.
“We can do your job better.
You can take the trash out.”
To the witch’s surprise,
the Gods throw their keys.
They grab the fondue
and run away, shouting —
“Finally free!”
⸻
Six eons later —
W&B rule the world now,
the Gods are in the club.
“Let’s see if the world has changed,” they say —
“Look — the spy-man owns a pub!”
The world looks calm and caffeinated,
with books and candles — cats too.
Work and play,
a bit of both —
the witches won —
hip hip hurray!
-Curio Athena
Inside the World of Curio Athena 
Leave a comment