Poetry Adaptation

A dark cave. In the middle, a caldron boiling. Thunder.

Enter the three Witches.

1 WITCH. Thrice the fishy fish hath twined.
2 WITCH. Thrice and once, the fam'ly dined.
3 WITCH. Mother cries: 'tis time! 'tis time!
1 WITCH. Round about the kitchen go;
   In the poison'd cookies throw.
   Snails, who without a thought,
   Captured slime that hell hath wrought;
   Swelter'd steam go up the flue,
   Boil thou first the Jana goo!
ALL. Weather, weather, boils and feather;
   Conjure Jana from the nether!

MacFluffin enters, visibly upset.

MacFluffin. Ay! For towhich thou hast wrought herminity upon thy shoustest?

Witches cackle, then disappear in a puff of smoke, which goes up the flue.

MacFluffin. Aught! Wherefore this always happens?

Syndicated 2010-09-16 07:01:25 from apenwarr - Business is Programming