Of Pigs and Men

Of Pigs and Men

I really didn’t mean to create all the pigs.

Then again, maybe I did.

Maybe my subconscious roared to life and conferred with my brain. Together, they came up with a diabolical pig plan.

Then again, it might’ve been a delicious plate of revenge with a side of comeuppance.

It started so simply, as these things tend to do. I sat at my favorite little table in my favorite cozy tea shop, waiting as usual for Eva. She and I had been best friends long before we developed our spellcasting skills and joined the coven as full-fledged witches.

The thing was, no matter what spells she knew—and she knew a lot more than some of the other witches—she hadn’t found one to eliminate her perpetual lateness.

So, it wasn’t until 10 minutes after our proposed time (why I never added a ten-minute buffer to each get-together is beyond me) that Eva burst through the door. Her long, auburn hair and flowing dress rippled gently, even though there wasn’t a hint of a breeze or a ceiling fan.

“Men. Pigs.” Eva plopped into an upholstered chair and slammed her arms down on the table’s surface. “Seriously, Adima, they’re all disgusting, filthy animals.”

I closed my eyes so Eva wouldn’t see me rolling them. This was a semi-regular thing with her during our meetups. She’d come in and not even order. Instead, she’d start spewing about everything that took place on her last date.

Instead of groaning and pleading, “Not again,” I took a breath and slowly opened my eyes. “Tell me what happened.”

“It started okay—”

“Like they normally do.” Eva glared at me. “Sorry. Go on.”

“We met at Sophie’s. You know, that small café on the waterfront? I really love their crème brûlée.”

I nodded, not wanting another death stare for interrupting.

“We talked about the weather, our families, things we love in the city. You know, inane chatter. Then, things went incredibly south.”

She called over a server and ordered a lemon balm. I inwardly thanked the Faes that Eva didn’t order something caffeinated. We would’ve been there for hours.

“He asked what I did,” Eva said, continuing as if she didn’t pause the conversation. “I told him I work with the city as a waste disposal spellcaster.”

“Good thing you didn’t tell him you were a sh—”

Again with the glare. “So, he asked if I was in a coven. When I said yes, he …” Eva wrung her hands. “He asked if any of the other witches would like to join him in an, um …”

Although she trailed off, I knew what Eva meant. It wasn’t the first time one of her dates proposed the idea. I had gotten the same request a few times before I took a vow of celibacy. Actually, it was a personal vow not to date until my senior years.

Eva rubbed her face and moved her hands through her hair. Despite the palpable frustration crashing like waves around her, her hair still glowed and shifted in an invisible breeze.

I pulled her hands into mine. “Oh, Eva, I’m so sorry. Is this the fourth or fifth time this has happened?”

Eva sniffed. “Tenth.” She produced a watery smile. “I think it’s a record.” A tear gently spilled over her eyelid, slowly sliding down her cheek.

I smiled back and patted her hand. “I’m pretty sure some of the older witches in our coven have you beat.”

Eva chuckled and wiped her eyes. “Adima, you always have a way of cheering me up.” She looked over at the case of pastries near the cash register. “I think I deserve a chocolate scone.”

“Get two. I’m hungry.”

As Eva stepped away from the table, with customers’ eyes glancing her way, an idea formed in my mind. A possibly daring idea. One that could help Eva get past this latest jerkface.

Eva sat back down and placed three scones on the table. “Let’s dig in.”

“Before we do, I have a silly question.”

She took a bite of her pastry. “Shoot.”

“What was this guy’s name?”

**

“So, Evie actually gave you my number?”

“Eva. Yes, she did.”

It wasn’t hard to get Scott Abercrombie the Third’s number. You could get a lot on WitchNet with the right herbs and incantations. From there, I examined The Third’s social profiles.

He was, for all intents and purposes, a jerkface hiding behind chiseled looks and wavy brown hair (I could see why Eva took to him). Correlating his name with the coven’s social media groups, I saw way too many comments on his predilection for multiple sexual partners. There was even a time or two when The Third asked if some of the Faes could come down in human form and join them.

This is when I decided to set up a “date” with him at the tea shop, where we now sat at a cozy window table.

“She told me that you're not her type, but you could be mine.”

“Oh?” He leaned back in his chair and moved his hand through his hair. I tried not to get flustered about it. “How so?”

“Well, apparently, you asked her about multiple partners. I’m certainly in for that.”

The Third remained silent for a few seconds. “Men and women?”

I inwardly said a brief prayer to the Faes before I dropped my voice an octave. “Yes. Even some spellcaster spirits if they were willing.”

He nearly slipped off his seat, but he quickly recovered as if no one had seen it.

I felt both pride and disgust doing this. He was an innocent guy. A jackass for sure, but probably not worth what I had in mind.

Then again, Eva was my best friend, and I was getting tired of seeing her hurt by these people. An example had to be set.

“Uh.” he cleared his throat, clearly not expecting my response. “Uh, sure, that would be great. How would we set this up?”

“Hold on, there, tiger.” I tried to make my voice as sultry as possible. “I just can’t whip up something like this on a whim.”

“Right. Right. Sorry.” His smirk told me he wasn't apologetic at all. “So, do they sell coffee here?”

“I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be named The Tea and the Saucerer if it did.”

“I’m not really a tea drinker.”

I touched The Third’s hand, uncomfortably close to me on the tea shop’s table. “Oh, then you haven’t experienced its powers.”

“Powers? You mean, I’ll become a wizard?”

While my chuckle was deep and throaty, my bile was uncomfortably bitter as I swallowed. “Healing powers, silly. Tea has so many possibilities. It would certainly help someone as,” I swallowed again and tried not to wince at the discomfort, “as handsome as you.”

Instead of blushing, The Third puffed out his chest. “Well, it certainly couldn’t hurt.”

I moved my hand from his and patted his knee. It shook like a puppy’s tail. “Here, I’ll go to the counter and order for you.”

I stood and meaningfully turned my backside toward him so he could glance at my short skirt. I borrowed it from Eva because I would never wear something like it. However, I felt tonight’s performance merited a costume change.

I stepped up to the counter and ordered a yellow tea for myself and a green tea for The Third. I tried to stay calm as I watched the employee add leaves to two infusers, place them in flowery-designed mugs, and pour hot water over them from a stainless steel teapot. They placed a small saucer on the top of each cup to catch the heat.

Watching the process calmed me, which was what I needed for the next step. I walked over to the tea station. I left my tea bare. For The Third’s, I added a couple of squirts of agave syrup.

I scanned the shop like a spy waiting for his handler. Then, I reached into the right arm of my long-sleeved blouse and pulled out a small packet.

I shook it twice, tore it open, and added its contents into the green tea. The liquid began to spin and shift through the color spectrum. Looking around again, I spoke softly.

“A pig you are. A pig you’ll be. For all. Eternity.”

I tapped the mug’s rim. The tea sparked briefly, then returned to its normal shade and state.

Smiling, I replaced the saucer and sashayed back to the table, bending down to place the mug on The Third’s side. He glanced at my chest, not even pretending it was an accident.

“The saucer keeps in the heat,” I said as he removed it from the mug’s rim and sniffed. “It’s green tea. Has a lot of natural healing properties plus natural caffeine.”

He frowned slightly. “It smells like sweet spinach.”

My heart beat slightly faster. Why did I think he would immediately gulp it down? “You can’t taste it. Also, I added some agave syrup.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“It’s like a healthy sugar.”

The Third shrugged. “Oh.” He blew some steam off and took a sip. For a few seconds, his eyes widened, and his skin turned pale. His face returned to normal not long after.

He took another sip. “This isn’t bad, and you say it has a lot of health benefits.”

I smiled. “So many benefits. For everyone.”

He smiled, snorted, and took a bigger sip.

“Abacrombie? What are you doing here?”

The Third looked up at the man standing behind me. “Finch? Dude, I could say the same about you.” He rose, took Finch’s hand, and slapped him on the arm. I looked up just in time to see the other man’s eyes widen and his skin pale. It quickly faded from his features.

“Hey, me and some of the guys are sitting at a corner table.” Finch pointed to the front of the shop. “We’re scoping out women.” He looked down. “Oh, sorry,” he said without a bit of embarrassment.

The Third shook his head. “Oh, geez. Finch, this is Armida—”

“Adima.”

“Right. Adima. Hey, would you mind if I stopped by Finch’s table for a few minutes?”

“Of course.” I tittered. “Boys are going to be boys, right?”

“Yep.” He took another swig of tea and snorted once more. “Man, this stuff is good.”

As he walked away, I quickly glanced at his rear end. A small, curly tail began to emerge.

I smiled and gently sipped my own tea.

**

“Go to SpellTube.”

“What?” I asked Eva groggily. The previous evening’s events had me so hyped up that I didn’t get to sleep until early in the morning. The image of The Third’s nose turning into a snout kept me in giggles.

“You know, the spellcaster’s video channel.”

“I don’t watch TV. Reading’s better.”

Eva sighed loudly into the phone. “Just look for the subject ‘Pigs Run Amok.’”

I flipped on the TV and pulled up the SpellTube app. It wasn’t hard to find the video. It was the most viewed one on the site.

I started it up and watched hundreds of pigs running down Broadway. They formed a mass of squealing bodies.

On the sidewalks, police stood there in protective gear. Among them were people in orange Hazmat suits.

Then I saw the witches. Although I couldn’t hear them, I saw the sparks and colors of their spells as they tried to stop the pig mob.

The scene switched to Central Park, where more police and spellcasters worked to keep back more pigs wandering through the park.

“Oh, no.”

“What?” Eva asked.

“Um, I’ll call you back.”

I threw the phone on the bed, walked into the bathroom, and rustled through the trash can. I pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. Opening it, I silently read the spell written on it.

“I added a period.”

I had placed a period between “For all” and “eternity.”

I cast the spell to turn only The Third into a pig for the rest of his life. It turned out he was Patient Zero.

When he took Finch’s hand, the spell spread to him. Then, when the pair got back to Finch’s table, there was a lot of hand-shaking and back-patting.

Most likely, this started a chain reaction when that group visited other guys while they scoped out babes.

I’d inadvertently caused a porcine pandemic.

I had to reach out to the coven, tell them what happened, and see if they could come up with a solution.

I looked back at the TV. The pigs were being herded into big trucks. The caption read “NYC pigs scheduled for rural farm relocation.”

I turned off the TV and looked at the phone. I should have called Eva back and told her what happened.

Instead, I went back to bed with a broad smile.