I said my spells would blow their minds. But hadn’t expected results to be so literal.
There are typos in my grimoire. That damn cat exaggerated his keyboard skills. Blood and brain matter cover the stage. The judges’ headless torsos slump over their desks.
The stunned audience stares as I back away from my cauldron, wishing my broomstick wasn’t in the dressing room.
The host comes out, smiling. “Excellent!” he cries. “Ratings have just gone through the roof!”
The audience starts clapping and cheering, even the blood-splattered ones in the front row.
Perhaps I won’t skin the cat after all.
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