The Potion of Nastiness

    It's time to let you know.  The Scribe has been sneaking on my blog, reading posts and then reading comments.  She was especially thrilled with ALL of the comments on my post: Teacher of Doom!
    Are you having a hard time remembering?  Let me show you a couple of her favorites:


At 10:07 AM, Fishducky wrote: I'd like to adopt the Scribe but there's probably a long line ahead of me.


At 12:32 PM, Melynda wrote: Fishducky wait in line woman. I've got dibs on adopting any one of those kids! lol

   It's true that the Scribe has read too much of my blog and watched too much Star Trek.  I didn't realize what went on in her little mind until I came into the kitchen later that night.
    "What are you doing?" I asked.
    The kitchen looked like a potion emporium.
 

    The Scribe had pulled out all my spices and baking supplies. I saw milk sitting on the counter by some coke. She'd filled water bottles with strange mixtures.
    "Let me ask you again," I yelled.  "What are you doing?"
    "Getting extra credit, and making all those nice people on your blog happy."
    "What are you talking about?"
    "Well, people on your blog wish they had someone like me, so I'm making a cloning potion.  I'll have The Hippie drink some first, just to make sure it works.  If clones appear next to her, then we know I made a cloning potion, if not, she'll probably just fall in love with the next boy she sees."

    "Great."  I moaned. 
    She passed me one of the many potions.  "Smell," she said.  "And to think, The Hippie gets to try all of these."
    "O-kay, that smells disgusting.  What's in it?"
    "This." She smiled pointed to the milk, cinnamon, pickle juice, etc.!
    "You can't make her drink that."
    "I won't make her do anything," she said.  "The Hippie's excited to have a clone to keep and do chores for her anyway.  We'll sell the other clones to the bloggers."
    I scoffed.  "Sell them?  But aren't the clones real people?"
    "No," she laughed.  "They're more like pets.  Didn't you say the last time scientists made clones, the clones all came out as sheep."
    "Yeah, because they cloned . . . SHEEP.  Your clones will come out as people."
    She looked at me stunned.  
    Were we really fighting about clones?  I knew the potion of nastiness wouldn't work, yet I argued with her about it?
    "Fine," I said.  "If your sister wants to drink that, then let her.  I just hope it'll cure her leg."
    The point is that The Hippie has been hobbling around for TWO DAYS!  She skinned her knee and now she won't bend her leg.  I dropped her off for school and she struggled getting to her classroom.  They just started Tuesday; people probably think she's crippled.  That would be fine if she had a physical issue, but she doesn't!  
    She came up to me a couple days ago and said, "Mama, you know how I normally come in first when I race at school?" 
    I nodded.  
    "Well, I couldn't bend my leg, so I came in last."
    I snorted from the memory.  
    "Seriously, Scribe," I said.  "Maybe that cloning potion will get her leg working again.  Pickle juice can do wonders."
    I turned and watched as The Hippie hobbled into the room.  "Are the potions ready yet?" she asked, completely excited--maybe she thought the stuff might heal her leg too!
    "They're all ready," The Scribe said, "Just one last touch."
    I know it's terrible, but I started talking to The Hippie instead of watching The Scribe's every move.  That was a fatal "no-no."  Even at the bar, when someone prepares your drink, you should always watch what they're putting in it!
    The Scribe smiled like a crafty apothecary.  She handed The Hippie a drink and giggled.  "Drink up and we'll see your clones soon."
    The Hippie giggled back, the sound of innocence.  She took a sniff, plugged her nose and drank all the contents of the coffee mug.
    That's when disaster struck.  You see, I like cooking spicy things.  My mom is half Italian and she taught me everything she knows about cooking spicy!  So, my cupboards are filled with fancy spices, hot concoctions and fun bullion's.  As I watched, The Hippie's face turned from milky perfect to a blotchy red; I knew something was wrong.  She coughed, trying to keep the smile on her face.
    "Oh wow!" The Hippie said.  Although she didn't realize it, her leg bent as she sat down to collect herself.  "This is magic.  My mouth is tingling.  It feels like a magic fire is inside, like a dragon is in my mouth!"  A couple tears came to her eyes and I stopped her from rubbing them.  I realized then, The Hippie's never had spicy food, so she mistook it for magic.
    I gave her a bunch of cold water, which she refused to drink.  "I need to let the magic keep working.  I really don't want to clean my room all the time."  
    I'd never seen someone who could handle heat like that!  She really must hate cleaning.  
    After making sure she was okay, I pulled The Scribe aside and whispered, "What did you put in at the last second?"
   She shut her lips, trying to hold a laugh in, but the stupid sound came out like a spluttery fart!  She pointed at a bottle, the one I hoped she'd avoid.  It's stuff I use to make spicy spaghetti, or prize-winning pickled eggs.  She pointed . . . to the homemade mixture with ground cayenne red pepper and banana pepper seeds in it!
    "You're either grounded for two weeks, or you're drinking some of that too," I said.
    The Scribe's eyes got big.  "I'll drink it for five bucks."
    "NO.  You'll drink it and I won't make you clean the toilets while you're gounded!"
    That was the key to success.  Apparently both my girls hate cleaning.  
    So, to make a long story short, my girls' sinuses are clear.  They didn't get any clones, but The Hippie's leg can bend now (shocker).
    After they realized the potions stung to no avail, The Scribe looked at me.  "Those poor blog ladies.  And to think, they just wanted kids like me."
    I tried holding a straight face.  "Maybe we can pray for them.  They'll be all right."
   "I guess so, but that will be so hard."  Then she cheered up far to quickly.  "Didn't you said that Melynda has an Aux plant, that makes Aux Jus?"
    I nodded.  

Here's that link if you have no idea what she referred to:

Aux Jus Plants

    "Well, if we add some of that to this same potion, it will definitely turn from a cloning potion to a love potion.  Do you know if Melynda is home?"
    "We can see."  I called Melynda.  "My girls are makin' a love potion.  Do you still have that Aux Jus plant?" I asked.
    She laughed, catching on like a potion MASTER!  "Yes, indeed I do,"  she said.


     That's the end of the story about how The Hippie got healed, but the beginning of how she fell in love.
    For the rest of that story, please visit Melynda (the potion super star):