There were seven witches who met every Saturday at the Mall. They tried on clothes at Nordstroms and drank espresso and skated on the mall rink and they talked and they laughed way too loud. Then they got in their cars, petted their familiars and drove out into the desert to dance naked and cast spells. On summer nights when the moon was full all kinds of pleasures were indulged by pale moonlight. Some thought it was coyotes yowling out there. Some knew better.
The last thing they did was to call out the names of all on whom they wished evil. Denise had always wished a slow and painful death on her ex mother in law, but the woman had died of emphysema and now Denise had no one to wish evil on.
As each witch called a name she could come up with no one except the rude Safeway checker who really wasn't that bad, so she broke the spell by calling ``I wish good on all the hungry.''
The others were embarrassed.
``You can't do that, Denise.'' Marie Jose said.
``Why not?'' asked Denise.
``Yes, why not?'' the other witches said.
``Because it weakens our power,'' said Marie Jose, ``there are many who deserve our spells. We must concentrate on them.''
So every week Denise looked for people to hate. She didn't hate the rude Safeway clerk or her impatient boss or the stupid president or her hurried, disinterested doctor or the arrogant cop who insisted she was going 60 when she knew she was going 45, but she wished them all ill.
The president had a stroke, the cop was shot, her doctor threw a clot after he broke his leg skiing and her boss was fired. Only the Safeway checker remained unscathed.
At Halloween there was a convocation of witches at the Airport Sheraton. Denise saw the Safeway checker eating an anchovy canape.
``Ah!'' she said.
``Ah!'' said the checker, ``you're the surly one!''
``Me?'' said Denise.
``Good thing you have powers or you'd be dead by now.'' said the checker, licking anchovy from her fingers.