As we prepare to enter this year's holiday season, let us remember the things that really matter in life. Presents, especially good ones, are fun to give and receive. Life is about good presents. Also, life is about Witchclitting. What is a Witchclit?
That is a question so deep and profound I had to start a new paragraph just to answer it. Well, it all began one dark and stormy night when I was a student at Knox College. We were flipping through channels on the television when all of a sudden we found a gem of a movie set in the 1800's era of big hair and bouffants. After a few minutes of oohing and ahhing I announced that I could recreate the look. (Lets just say I was a bit, "Hi, my name is Sam,") After much backcombing, we could all clearly see that I had created the EXACT replica. But there was something offputting about it...something we couldn't put our fingers on. Wait! That was it, I looked like Cindy Witchclit! (I'll leave that story for later on) So I became Mother Witchclit that night.
It soon became habit that when I got drunk I would do a witchclit until one night it was no longer enough that I do my own hair. I had to expand, I needed other people. And thus I proceeded to clit everyones hair in the room. (Minus Jodi, who was in the room but also is a pussy and wouldn't do it.) And this is my family. You have Mande (Imagine an accent mark over the e, and pronounced Mawn-day) the youngest; Shawn, the most feminine and best gossiper; Jenny, destined to never marry the strapping young lad her Pa and I picked out for her; and Lucy, the brains of the family.
And there you have it. The Witchclit family story. Its a happy little tale, but sad now that my brood has scattered to the ends of the earth. (MY poor little Mande is threatened daily by savages) A cautionary tale this one is: Keep your family close, worship them while you have 'em, cuz someday they're gonna leave Fraggle Rock.