Of a Migraine

The trouble with witches, from time to time, is that they tend to have no offspring. They do, however, have apprentices. Now, there is nothing that precludes a witch from a wedding. Witches are occasionally known to have a jolly kick-up of a day and evening in such an affair. They tend to make the most of the drink. They even, on occasion, make the most of the groom. But such states are rare.

    The witch knew this was the case. 

    She explained that this was the case.

    She even offered a slightly distant, rather rhythmic pat on the back. 

    None of it did any good for the apprentice weeping uncontrollably on the couch-cum-bed that made up the potion-making-cum-kitchen-cum-spare-room. Indeed, the young lady didn't seem to quite grasp the fact that young gentlemen weren't often wont to wed a woman of a witchly persuasion. It was a simply matter of mathematics. Men liked to know a certain amount of things. Men didn't like other people, often women, to know more than a lesser amount of a certain amount of things. Witches had to know an absolutely God-awful lot of things. The maths did not usually add up.

    Again, this did very little good.

    The witch tried again.

    She did, of course, know the pity of self-denial. She couldn't, as tragic as the case was, consume chocolate. Migraines. It was quite the same sort of thing. It was sad, but one muddled on.

    The apprentice disagreed, pointing out with a clarity that caused birds to fly into the glass, that her life was over, while the witch could continue on with her life, such as it was—the apprentice seemed to take a rather limited view of the point of the witch's life as a whole, which she addressed with a kind of vigor only a regular attender of Zumba usually possesses. 

    That was when the apprentice slammed the door, taking her body to the other side of it. 

    The witch stared at the door for awhile. She wondered where she had gone wrong. 

    Ah, thought the witch after some time as she munched on a piece of chocolate, she understood it all now. Some things, as it happened, were worth the migraine.

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