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It took effect that’s for sure. Next week, this awful lookin’ little bastard showed up. Followed me everywhere, mumbling a bunch of crap nobody could understand. Even when I ditched him, he’d just show back up. My gambling luck went to hell, I’d slip and fall, and getting a date? Shit. People around me too. Lock their keys in the car, burn themselves lightin’ a cigarette, cut themselves cooking. One time I took my shotgun and blasted its arm off, thank God mine stayed on. Next day, there he was.
Finally, we went to see the witch. We’d done business with her once before when we was desperate, the worst and only time you’d try such a thing. She wasn’t no wrinkled old hag livin’ in a swamp neither, had a real fancy apartment in the city. She looked damn fine, too; don’t know if that was real or not and I don’t much give a damn.
She did her thing and the little asshole was just gone, never seen him since. She didn’t ask for nothing, up front, but we knew she’d call in the favor. Based on the first time, we knew whatever that was, it wasn’t gonna be good.
–Earl West, shotgun man for the Society of The Oath-Bound.
