Ursula goes rogue

The Council of Elders were meeting for the third time in a month. “Is this really necessary?” Ursula the witch asked. The head werewolf, Adalwulf, glanced at Gujjt, leader of the Trabalar goblin clan. “We wouldn’t have to meet if you hadn’t screwed up so badly,” said Adalwulf.

“You actually flew on a broomstick during a full moon?! It isn’t the 17th century anymore, darling. It was on TikTok, Instagram, Twitter, and YouTube within an hour. From five different angles!” The wolf-man snorted in disgust. “Get yourself a Segway, dear.”

The witch, hurt, went home without even taking her complimentary SWAG bag. (SWAG, of course, stands for Stuff Witches All Get.) Back at home, she stared into the fire which crackled green, pink, and maroon on the hearth. "Am I passé?" she wondered aloud. Her cat, Smoggy, answered

with a lazy meow. The witch waited for it to say something more substantial but it didn't. It was just a cat after all. Unconsolable, the witch tried to comfort herself with the contents the SWAG bag. She gave up when she got to the Charles Nelson Reilly bobblehead.

The witch threw the bag on the ground. How could the council have played such a grotesque joke. She stared at the cat who responded by licking its groin. She was supposed to be a made witch! Now she was basically excommunicated, an embarrassment. She had to strike back, but how?

She decided to go freelance-witchery was flexible after all. She could work on potions on her own and export them to various covens. Before leaving she performed one final spell. It involved toilets, itching dust and confused alligators. Clearly she would not be freelancing here.