I suppose you could say the curse is my fault, but I prefer to blame my older sister, who is a dumb blonde. It all started with a conversation between her and Mom that began like this:
"Mom, where's my shorts?"
"Under your dress!"
"But I'm not wearing my dress yet!"
Okay, you get the picture? Well, it was the first day of school, and my sister had this new dress that was pretty much see-through. No one else would be wearing anything like it (they would all have on jean skirts, though most would be wearing jeans, like they always did), so my sister, who prides herself on being different, got this new dress that was virtually see-through.
"You're not going to school dressed like that," said Dad over his toast and coffee.
"Of course I am," said my sister. "Why wouldn't I?"
"Because we can see right through it, dear," said Mother, who was so practical. "Go upstairs and put on a slip."
"Nobody wears slips anymore," she huffed.
"See, that's one more way you can be different," I said.
She sniffed, but went to her room. A minute later, she came out. It was clear she was wearing a half-slip, but just as clear that she needed something under her top half, too.
"That won't do," said mother. "You will have to wear a full slip. Remember those I bought you for your birthday?"
"But I'll be late," my sister snapped.
"No, finish your breakfast, then go put on your new slip."
My sister finished her corn flakes a few minutes later, then went in a
huff to her room and put on her new full slip. Apparently she was in a bit of a hurry, and she forgot to take off the half-slip. Or maybe she planned to take off the full slip at school and let her bra and belly-button show. Whatever the reason, she went
to school with two slips on under her dress.
I decided that this would be my chance to get her. I went to my room, lit an incense candle, and chanted the following verse:
Slip half and slip full,
Black, white or dull,
Stay on the waist
As if held by paste,
And on the hips
No falls and no trips.
I chanted a couple of other things that sounded like gibberish, but if I told you what they were, I'd have to kill you.
No, I'm not a witch, but I'll explain more of that later.
We dropped my
sister off first, since her school was on the way to mine, and her classes started a few minutes before mine, anyway. A few minutes later, I got dropped off at my school, and had a fairly boring first day of school. I found that most of my teachers were jerks, but I knew I could pass my classes without having to chant too many poems.
We got home and I took off the jean skirt that I had worn to school. I put on a pair of shorts and went outside. "What are you doing in my miniskirt?"
my sister asked as she got home. I then realized I had a problem. I had put a spell on my family a few weeks ago that made it appear everything I wore was a skirt. I had worn a pair of slacks to my aunt's funeral in late July, and was amused to find that
everyone thought I was wearing a lovely skirt. Unfortunately, I didn't know how to take the spell off. As I said a bit ago, I'm not a witch--but there's still more.
I told her that the skirt was not hers, but that I had one like it. She gave me a dirty look but said nothing.
About five minutes later, I heard my sister scream. I knew why, but I ran in as if I thought she had seen a rat or something.
"I can't take this off." She was standing in her full slip.
"Of course you can dear, just pull it up,"said Mom, who was already there. They tried to pull it up, but it wouldn\rquote t budge. My sister was still wearing the half slip, and they found out it, too, wouldn't come off. "Let me get some scissors," said Mom. She went to her room.
A moment later, she returned with scissors. First, she tried to cut the shoulder straps to the full slip. The scissors didn't work. Then she tried cutting a slit up the side to the waist. No luck. She tried cutting off the lacy hem. Nothing. She had my sister pull up the full slip, and she went to work on the half slip under it. Zilch. "Let me find another pair of scissors. These must be worn out."
More scissors yielded the same result. My sister was almost frantic when Dad got home. She had put her dress back on, since she didn't want him to see her in her underwear. "What's the matter with you?" he asked.
"Like you don't know!" she shouted. "You tricked me into wearing this stupid slip. Now it won't come off!"
Mom explained to Dad what had happened. Dad was a bit amused. "It looks like you will have to dress like a lady from now on,"he said.
"Speaking of ladies," he said to me, "why are you wearing that miniskirt? I thought you hated them."
"It's mine, too," said my sister, who still didn't believe I had a skirt like hers.
"It's a warm day, and this is cool."
"She's got a boyfriend. Make her take it off."
"Funny how you used to never wear skirts," said Dad. "Now you wear them all the time. Looks like your sister's going to be wearing them a lot, too, from now on."
Remember that they only thought I was wearing a skirt. I really was wearing shorts. I had put a spell on my sister that kept her from being able to take off her slips. Earlier, I had put one on the family (and anyone else who saw me) that made them think I was wearing a skirt. But remember that I also told you I am not a witch. Here's what I mean:
When I was about three or four years old, I realized that I powers that nobody else had. I guess I was born with them, but it was only then that I realized not everyone else had them--in fact, nobody that I knew. However,
I kept my abilities to myself, as I was afraid--probably rightly so--that
something bad would happen to me if I showed them off. As I grew up, I felt lonely and isolated because of my secret. By the time I was ten, however, I knew how to use my powers to get better grades than I deserved.
But unlike others who might have my abilities, I didn't waste my time at school. I tried to learn as much as I could about anything and everything, including fashion.
I also learned spells and curses, and put one on my mother that left her wearing early Renaissance clothing one winter. I removed the spell, and everyone's memory of it, the following spring. It was
one of my easier acts, really.
Yet I am telling the truth when I tell you I am not a witch. I am a wizard, a boy-witch, if you will. I was born a boy, and think of myself as one, at least most of the time. But when I was about six, I cast a curse on one of the older
neighbor girls who had figured out what I was, and threatened to go "the authorities" about it. I decided the police or whoever would not catch me if I was a boy and they were looking for a girl. So I learned a simple spell and
hit her with it the next time she came to visit. It was to make her think I was a girl. Unfortunately, I cast the spell so it made everyone else think I was a girl, too. I don't like to wear girls' clothes, but it's okay if everyone thinks I'm wearing them. I suppose when I grow up and get married I'll have to learn some spells or curses to protect myself, but I am ready to do that.