Bad Bex by John Stormm (best short novels of all time .TXT) 📖

a spell on you,” Bex warned, “you are not going to like it. There’s a particularly good old charm, for out of control boyfriends. It’s called the ‘Wee Willy Winky Spell.‘ I could give you a demonstration.” Bex grinned maliciously.

Ronny suddenly developed a nervous tick, but he was quiet as Rhonda finished telling Becky all the news, and enlisting her aid for the social.

* * *

     It seemed that Bex could go nowhere on campus, where she didn’t hear some kind of buzz on Rhonda and Ronny. Rhonda’s dorm room was in the same building, but on a different floor than Becky’s. Ronny shared a frat house, off campus, with a notorious group of party animals. Rumor had it that Ronny was the number one animal, allegedly, he could get you anything you wanted to make your party happen. It was not the kind of thing Bex wanted to happen at the Native American social. A wild bunch of drugged out Indians were not going to win any education or cultural grants. Now she was even more stressed about what to do. Maybe it was all just hearsay, she hoped. She promised herself that after, at least two hours of book work, she’d use her wizard’s fountain again. Maybe the enchantment could give her some insight on the problem. If nothing else, it relieved stress.

Not two, but four hours of book work later, a severely fatigued Bex crawled into her bunk and fell fast asleep. Dreaming of drugged out tapeworms that dissected her biology professors wasn’t the best way to rest, but there was no help for it. Bex had to go to work, first thing in the morning as a store clerk at ‘The Fabric Barn,’ a few blocks away, off campus. It was strange working in fabrics, for someone other than her mother, but then, this was Buffalo, and Mom’s store was in Rochester. She had to make ends meet. If only she could get those ends close enough to introduce them to each other.

The Barn was only six blocks away, Bex thought it would be worth the walk today, so she grabbed her coat and started off. She was only two blocks into the trip, when a road repair construction site made her detour to a side street. Another block down, and then a left and she spotted Rhonda and Ronny, arguing loudly in front of what must have been Ronny’s frat house. Ronny pulled back his open hand to slap and Rhonda cringed, as Bex walked up.

“Hey! What’s this?” Bex demanded, staring hard at Ronny.

“None of your damned…” Ronny snapped and stopped when he got a look at who was talking. He just put his head down and stormed back into the house, leaving Rhonda and her, alone outside.

“You wouldn’t happen to know a good animal control spell, would you?” Rhonda inquired.

“I know several,” Bex growled, “but sometimes a good old jab in the chops works miracles.”

“He’d kill me if I hit him,” Rhonda said worriedly. “You couldn’t just teach me a spell or something, now could you? I could be a witch.”

“I think my great grandmother,” Bex replied, “would tell you something like, you don’t become a witch to cast spells, you cast spells because you are a witch. Let’s go for now. I’ll find a way to deal with him later. I have to be at work.”

“Can’t’ you just make money come to you?” Rhonda asked. “A spell to win the lottery, maybe?”

“Rhonda, leave it be,” Bex pleaded. “We can’t proceed with this conversation on information based on Disney movies and TV sitcoms, any more than you can base your knowledge of Native Americans on John Wayne movies and westerns.”

“Well, since you put it like that,” Rhonda started.

“It’s very much like that,” said Bex. “Though, I think we’re still years away from Wiccan socials and scholarships for young witches. We’re not just a minority. We’ve been an endangered species for the last dozen centuries or so.”

Rhonda walked the rest of the way to The Fabric Barn with Bex. On the way, they discussed her relationship with Ronny. They had met at a Christmas party, of course, as parties are Ronny’s domain. They hit it off well at first, but Ronny is as jealous, as he is possessive. That would be problem enough, but Rhonda walked in on a drug deal between Ronny and some inner city thugs. Rhonda sank from the rank of “my sweetheart” to “my bitch,” in the space of a single argument. There would likely be more problems to come. Ronny was never known for parting with personal property easily.

* * *

     It was a long day, with work and with school. Bex just wanted to hop in the shower, maybe an hour at the books, and then to bed. What she found, was a note on her door, indicating she should see Rhonda as soon as possible. She dropped her books on the chair and headed downstairs to Rhonda’s room. She was shocked to find Rhonda, crying on her bed, with the grandmother of all shiners, not to mention the whole left side of her face was black and blue. Bex was determined to give that man some healthy fear. She comforted Rhonda as much as she could, and then went in search of that hot shower. She was so stressed out, she forgot about the book work for tonight and plugged in her wizard’s fountain. The runes and her father’s face appeared as before, while the fountain burbled merrily. Bex lay back on her bed and sought the brook.
This time Bex found her father was waiting for her when she arrived. He was not wearing the white robe and staff either, but dressed in his usual black on black with his carved ebony walking stick. He was sitting on a large rectangular stone.

“I’m sticking to my own clothes today,” he said, “to curb that little blue imp’s jokes with bad embroidery”

“Daddy, I’ve really got problems,” she said, “there’s this jerk, and…”

“I know,” said the old wizard, “I told you, she should have had better taste in boyfriends. You still remember the proper definition of a spell?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Bex replied, “But please don’t go taking off just yet. I need help with this. I want to curse his socks off, but I don‘t want to invoke the witch‘s Law of Three, and have it return on my own head, threefold.”

“I’m here to help.” Her father reminded her, “Do you remember that book where the author said that ’magic works, because people either believe it will work, or are afraid that it just might?’”

“I think that was Terry Goodkind,” Bex said. “But that was a fantasy novel, called ’The Wizard’s First Rule,’ that won’t help me here.”

“Don’t be too sure,” her father lectured, “It’s a believable story because it has many elements of truth to it. That rule is a good one. Ronny fears you for what you might do.” Her Dad pointed to the ground at her feet. “Do mind that poison ivy, won’t you dear?”

“That’s okay,” Bex looked down at the patch of green at her feet. “Us kids aren’t allergic to anything out here, just like you. But, you know that.”

“Nature and human nature,” the wizard responded, “are VERY powerful forces for any witch to work with.” Sundog appeared at his shoulder, as her father stood up to leave.

“That’s the lesson for today, I suppose,” Bex said. “I’ll find an answer in the things you gave me?”

“You know your stuff, little witch,” her father smiled. “Why don’t you just lay back and sleep on it tonight.” Sundog had that look on his face again. Her father turned to walk up the trail, and Bex noticed a prehensile, lion’s tail switching from the seat of his pants. The faery looked like he might die of mirth. Bex lay back in the green patch and just looked at the sky and the trees and rested well that night.

Bex awoke early, with a mission. It was Saturday. She had to be to work by nine thirty to work a half day, so she had plenty of time. First, she dressed in a nice pressed pair of black slacks, with a black turtle neck sweater. On top of that, she wore her clan medallion, and her long black overcoat. Next, she grabbed a couple sandwich bags, and headed for the grove of trees at the edge of the campus. It was a warm forty degrees, for a winter day, and there was hardly any snow. She quickly found the poison ivy she was looking for, and filled both bags. It was still very early when she got to Ronny’s house. His car was parked in the driveway, which meant he was home, and probably still asleep. She went up to the car door handles and smeared them liberally with the poison ivy in her bags. She also rubbed the handrail on the front steps and the door knob. She was a little concerned that the oil from the waxy leaves would leave a telltale, oily sheen. But then, what do men notice, anyway? Having done the first part of her spell, she went to work.

It was a little after one in the afternoon, when Bex returned by Ronny’s house, and stood on the corner, across the street and quietly watched the house. The house was active, and guys were pulling up in cars and going in for a few minutes or more, and then leaving again. From time to time, they would glance nervously in her direction. At one point, Ronny came out of the house, to get something from the trunk of his car. He got his package, and looked up at Bex, standing across the street watching him, and he ducked back into the house, without saying a word. A moment later, the curtains in the main window, parted a bit from somebody peeking out at her. This was Becky’s cue. She then raised her left hand, with the index and pinky finger extended to the person in the window. The curtains jerked shut again, and Bex left for the dorm. Her spell would take a little time to work.

By Monday morning, a very panicky, and hardly recognizable Ronny was waiting dolefully on his knees outside the dorm building. His hair was a mess, and around his eyes and nose were raw looking leathery patches of skin. Bex knew that anywhere they touched themselves, after touching the ivy infected door handles and railings, would be hot spots by now.

“I know you cursed our house,” Ronny whined. “I saw you do it. I even know why, and I’m very, very sorry. The whole house is sick with this,” he gestured to his mottled features, “and our customers think they caught something from our product. We’re ruined. I never should have crossed you and your friend. I just got a little crazy is all.”

“The real insanity won’t hit you,“ Bex explained, “until the withering starts.”

“Withering?” Ronny gulped, wide eyed, “What’s going to wither?”

“You know, ..things,” Bex looked thoughtful, “Has anyone’s scrotum started shriveling yet?” Ronny looked like he wanted to bolt for some secluded spot to check his package. Terror was plainly written on his rash ridden features.

“Please, take off the curse,” he pleaded desperately. “I’ll agree to anything you say.”

“Well, it’s a pretty powerful hex,” Bex appeared to calculate. “I don’t think I can make something like that disappear over night, you know.”

“Anything you say!” Ronny begged, “Just don’t let the withering or shriveling start.”

“Okay, but you’re going to have to help with the counter spell,” Bex said. “Even then, it‘ll probably take a couple weeks for the effects to fade. Can you remember these three little magic words?”

“I’ll write them down,” Ronny blurted out, plainly relieved.

“But, I’m warning you,” Bex glared hotly at him, “If you so much as remind me or my friends of your