Page 40 - WTP Vol. V #2

Once upon a time, there was a Harpy who lived on a hill in a beautiful circa-1882 Vic- torian nest in the suburbs. She was mean and drank too much. A quick word on Harpies: They are vain, cruel, and self-involved creatures. It’s best if you can manage to avoid them entirely.
The Harpy
A Suburban Fable
One day after the Harpy had really tied one on,
she stepped outside the hole in the wall she’d
spent half a day in and stood blinking at the sun.
It was a beautiful spring day. As she staggered
along the sidewalk, she caught a glimpse of her
startling reflection in a storefront window and
hesitated a bit to fluff her feathers. An unsuspect-
ing woman walked past and accidentally brushed
against her wing. The Harpy reacted by screech- “I’ve already eaten, thanks. Twice. Once before ing into her face: “Watch where you’re going, you I left home, and after smelling your colossal leathery handbag, or I’ll pluck your ancient eyes mess of a soup, that last meal has come back up out!” The poor woman recoiled and toppled over for a visit.”
the curb. This outburst and others like it was the reason people didn’t like her, not that she gave
a damn. The half-bird thing was something they would have come to terms with.
The Sea Witch drove a 1985 Volvo in reverse down a poorly lit gravel road. A stray pebble was kicked up by a tire, pinged off the chrome side mirror and met with the Harpy’s eye. Luckily, her
Every year, the Harpy traveled with friends to the fake lashes folded over the stray and caught it State Fair at the edge of town. She began to get like a Venus flytrap.
ready by rouging her cheeks and then applied a long, thick black line around her eyes so that she resembled an Egyptian queen. From her exten- sive wardrobe, she chose a reflective bodice with embroidered red, yellow, gold, and turquoise flowers on it, and pinned a flouncy, orange hat
“Holy moly, this car is extremely square! Why are we driving backwards, Janice? What gives?”
to her sea of auburn curls. As she added the last touches to her deplorable catastrophe of a make- up application, she thought to herself, “I’ll be the best thing those meat sticks have ever laid their pathetic little eyes on!”
Janice pulled the car along the side of the road, shifted into first gear and made a U-turn into the cross section. “I put a whammy spell over my house so that the neighbor across the way can’t steal my cable. Unfortunately, the one I’ve used requires that we can only ever leave the premises backwards, otherwise we’ll turn into chickens.”
The Harpy flew across the harbor to the next town over and landed on the front step of her friend’s house. Janice the Sea Witch was the founding member and practicing level-three
“Creative!”
31 priestess of the Our Lady of the North East
“I like to be driven around and I like to drink. I do
Coven. When she wasn’t casting spells upon her neighbors, the Sea Witch taught piano lessons to a steady stream of students, including sev- eral local children and a handful of adults. Her saltbox shanty sat on a splintered dock that jutted out into a sheltered cove. The Harpy rang the doorbell.
The Sea Witch opened her door and beamed a smile towards the Harpy, who responded by squinching up her shellacked face in an expres- sion of disgust. “Gad, Janice! Smells like moth- balls and armpits! What are you making?”
“Cabbage soup. Would you like a bowl?”
“Why must we always take my car, Bertie? Why can’t you fly every now and then?”
JenniFer g. PePer