Witches, ghouls and a tree full of penis-shaped cookies — yum, yum, yum!

Why, my most successful post is the one that includes a picture of a medieval witch (looks a bit like a nun) picking peckers from a fig tree. And of course! Who doesn’t like a penis? Whether you carry one between your legs or wish for one to play doctor, everyone does, even lesbians like cock — if not the pig that comes attached.

The caterer has confirmed the menu for the Book Launch Party at the Last Bookstore this Thursday, and among many delicacies and booze, there will be pecker-buiscuits hanging from a xmas tree, a reference to a scene in chapter 3, In which we learn how the third daughter was conceived:

[A young man that has lost his dick visits the witch who stole it, who’s also telling the story]

I must say this, now, Father, in the boy’s defense. He was just as frightened and upset by how far things had gone as my daughters and I were. He snorted like a beast cornered by a hunter. His face was red and his eyes filled up with tears. He had reason to be upset. A man’s tool is a man’s pride. The girth and the length of a man’s bone are the girth and the length of his honor. He had been complimented often on the bulbous, mushroom-shaped head of his cock and the upward curve of his shaft and he wanted it back. But back then I didn’t see that; what I saw was that he was shaking my two girls as if they were rag dolls. I got terribly scared. I didn’t think that things would turn violent. All I wanted to do was to see him suffer. To make him pay for everything I had suffered in the hands of my husband. I begged the boy to stop, but he wouldn’t.

The Devil came to my rescue. I saw the goat spying through the window, and inside my head I heard the voice of the Little Master whispering instructions.

He told me to pretend to be defeated and then to open the back door of the house and point to a fig tree full of fruit that I had planted the year of my marriage. I did as told and to my surprise, instead of fruit, from the branches of the tree now grew male organs.

‘Climb up,’ I repeated to the boy the Devil’s instructions, ‘and choose the one that fits best.’

Don’t miss the official book launch of Love, or the Witches of Windward Circle this Thursday, October 22 at 7:00 PM at the Last Bookstore!

453 S. Spring, Los Angeles, CA 90013


Love, or the Witches of Windward Circle

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