The Good Witch - part 1
"Ya want to play me in the royal court Papoose? Ya will sway free from a coil or short noose, " the witch cackles, "Now vamoose Papoose, ya bird chaser. All bark, no bite; all spark, no fight; all talk, no light; all dark, all night, my wish ignite!"
The skies darken as the benevolent witch's words secretly conjure a lightning storm that attacks him at his heels, smashing his brigade.
He begins to recite his counter-conjured weather spell to rain on her flashy parade.
Simultaneously, her spell has already disarmed his defenses, like porcelain fences, but yet intense to the senses in random sequences.
The water pellets begin to beat a soothing rhythm to his feet, the ground emerges a chaotic pattern that reminds the dark hero of his purpose and his goal, to end the endless wave after wave that her master once gave to the best of the braves, the queen's favorite brigade, always poised to invade.
"Quiet down royal witch, good gaining ground a minor glitch, no timer hitched, I detonate in real time, I'm hell's last spawn, a beagle divine," rhymed our evil dark hero Papoose, sin-filled, guilt-ridden, enemy of lights, unleashed under the pits of fires he ignites, his feet feeling flight as he swings to the fresh beats his arms jabbing as if two sharks racing through liquid heat.
"No rhyme will save ya rude monfrere. I'll climb out this cave to stew ya hair," the witch reveals her intent to cook our caped canine into a soup to serve at banquets divine.
The water pellets begin to beat a soothing rhythm to his feet, the ground emerges a chaotic pattern that reminds the dark hero of his purpose and his goal, to end the endless wave after wave that her master once gave to the best of the braves, the queen's favorite brigade, always poised to invade.
"Quiet down royal witch, good gaining ground a minor glitch, no timer hitched, I detonate in real time, I'm hell's last spawn, a beagle divine," rhymed our evil dark hero Papoose, sin-filled, guilt-ridden, enemy of lights, unleashed under the pits of fires he ignites, his feet feeling flight as he swings to the fresh beats his arms jabbing as if two sharks racing through liquid heat.
"No rhyme will save ya rude monfrere. I'll climb out this cave to stew ya hair," the witch reveals her intent to cook our caped canine into a soup to serve at banquets divine.
The spots on his legs climb up his tail, afraid they'll be cooked first, if he should fail.
"Yer no match for me in hell, my inferno patch would burn every spell. I'll slap yeh down kindly, and clasp around blindly, most mindless moments fall far from fair," Papoose grasps at his last straws, his magical supply diminishing as the queen's witch absorbs and deflects his tiny paws.
"To tell the truth ya insolent dog, ya smell like poop and a smelly clog. Furthermore, ya blind as a log. Now bark somewhere else, perhaps in the fog," the witch releases a cloud, dark shades of purple, round at the edges, creating a circle, then bent halfway back to the edge like a turtle.
"I'll deflect yer lies, though I do despise, yer silly but wise, and as I hard as I try, alas I sigh, I can still see yer dressed in tattered lies," the dark hero fires back with hell's counter-spells, unleashing a fury, revealing her tells.
"Yer no match for me in hell, my inferno patch would burn every spell. I'll slap yeh down kindly, and clasp around blindly, most mindless moments fall far from fair," Papoose grasps at his last straws, his magical supply diminishing as the queen's witch absorbs and deflects his tiny paws.
"To tell the truth ya insolent dog, ya smell like poop and a smelly clog. Furthermore, ya blind as a log. Now bark somewhere else, perhaps in the fog," the witch releases a cloud, dark shades of purple, round at the edges, creating a circle, then bent halfway back to the edge like a turtle.
"I'll deflect yer lies, though I do despise, yer silly but wise, and as I hard as I try, alas I sigh, I can still see yer dressed in tattered lies," the dark hero fires back with hell's counter-spells, unleashing a fury, revealing her tells.
"Ya'r time will come soon mad canine breed," the good witch warns as she senses her own defeat. "Your bite's as big as your bark, that's clear indeed. I'm a sorceress of speed, and you're full of bad deeds!" the royal sorceress warns the arrogant champion.
"You should stay far away, today's not yesterday, come as you may, the prize to me is the price you shall pay," Papoose unties the noose she lassoed from afar, as she prepares her next assault, from her magical jar.
"Hackle crackle, slow-cooked bat. Tackle back, add one cooked cat, Wandering slowly, y'all already know where it's at," the witch brews up another storm with her potion-filled flask.
"You may be smart, but yer the one on the run. From the start, you can only hide in the sun," Papoose fires as he tires from the battle with her and within himself.
"Stop ya yappin silly child, my words are fierce, yers still wild; doncha drop that rap, it's ill but mild," the witch defuses, though she never loses, she refuses to withstand his final assault, a thunderous bolt as her final retort while her ammo runs short.
"Blessed witch, I won the battle. Flee if you must, but there's no one to tattle, this, my final resort, a desperate retort, I may be short, but I have a win to report," Papoose fires back, sending the witch on her back from his attack as she spins out of control and into the dark.
Before she disappears along the path leading out of the forest, the scent of a master approaching warns the dark dog to hold his bark.
Papoose flees through the trees before the good witch can recharge her magic pack, now that another has come to watch her back.
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