A Lion, Two Witches & My Wardrobe

Confession:

I was at happy hour with my good friend Lauren. We hadn’t seen one another in a few weeks and were catching up on all the random things going on in our lives. I was presently finishing a story.

“So, I woke up on the couch and saw that everybody else had passed out in the living room, too. All of a sudden, I hear somebody say, ‘Simba!’ Yeah, just out of the blue! Evidently I look like a lion cub when I first wake up. That’s where all that started.”

We both are laughing hysterically by this point and decided to get another round, although happy hour had been over an hour ago. Well, in our cases, happy hour never seemed to end at Fuel. Andy, the bartender, poured us two more beers and we began talking animatedly again. That is, we tried to begin talking animatedly again. Our conversation was cut short by two women who seemed to be approaching us. One was around my height, 5’6″, thin build with long, flowing blonde hair. The other woman was her antithesis- tall, thickly built with short spiky dark brown hair. They began smiling at us as they drew nearer. The blonde spoke first, but only to me.

“Hi. You guys seem to be having a lot of fun!” she exclaimed in a high-pitched screech of a voice.

“Yeah,” I replied. “We’re just catching up on the gossip. I’m Curtis,” I said as I extended a hand toward the strange pair in front of me.

“Hi, I’m Lauren,” my friend chimed in, also extending her hand. Once again, only the blonde spoke as she took each of our hands in turn.

“I’m Silken and this is Taffeta,” she, I guess Silken, said as she gestured to the tall brunette next to her who was obviously Taffeta. “It’s nice to meet you. Can I buy you guys a shot? A lemon drop?”

Lauren and I both replied that it wasn’t at all necessary, but the blonde Silken insisted and we eventually had to acquiesce to her demands. Her next comment made us happy we did.

“We’re both witches- you know, wickens. It’s good luck to drink from a witch when she’s in good nature.”

At this point, I realized Lauren and I had two options: One, sit and play nice with the weird witch-women or two, make an excuse and get the hell outta dodge. By the time I’d facially communicated to Lauren that I’d decided number two was our best option and it was definitely time to leave, Silken and Taffeta presented Lauren and me with lemon drop shots.

“Cheers!” Silken screeched.

Her voice was really starting to hurt my ears. We all drank our shots and seeing that leaving now would definitely not be a good thing to do to two witches, Lauren and I downed our beers and decided to order another round. Silken, however, seemed to be one step ahead of us.

“Have you guys ever had…what’s the name of it?” Silken asked, as if we really knew what she was blubbering about. “It’s not a beer-beer, it’s a cider I think and it tastes fruity.”

“Woodchuck’s?” Lauren offered.

“Yeah!” Silken shrieked, reaching an octave higher than I thought humanly possible. “That’s it!” Silken turned to Andy behind the bar and screeched out something that I think only dogs could hear. It didn’t help the situation, or my composure, when I noticed that the dogs at the outside tables with their owners all began to bark. As I stifled the last bits of my laughter, four glasses of Woodchuck’s Cider were presented in front of what was now my “party”- me, Lauren and two witches.

“We drink to the spirits of the earth,” Taffeta said in a strange, but etherealvoice. It was the first time she’d spoken and afterwards, I wished that she hadn’t. Her voiced matched that of Silken’s in octave ability, only at the other end of the spectrum. If the wicked witch of the west and Barry White had a child, I imagined it would be Taffeta. I was having a hard enough time keeping my composure before she spoke. What the hell was I going to do now? Silken, however, interrupted my musings.

“Ah! Ooh!” Silken moaned. “I love this stuff! It feels like velvet sliding down my throat!”

Velvet sliding down her throat? This witch had lost her mind, if she ever had one to begin with. As I racked my brain for something to follow THAT comment up, Taffeta beat me to it.

“You know, we’ve been lovers for over five years now and she always surprises me with her talent for descriptions ,” Taffeta said-well, bellowed.

Her voice level and intonation was lost on me because I was transfixed. I was trying to comprehend what she’d just said. We’ve been lovers for over five years now? No. No, I didn’t just hear that. I didn’t just step from the bottom floor of the crazy store only to find the crazy bargain basement. They’re witches and lesbians? This was really getting out of hand! Before I could even begin to think of an escape route for Lauren and myself, Silken came over to stand next to my bar stool.

“Well, it was nice meeting you two,” she said. Silken then leaned in close to me until our faces were inches apart and whispered, “Never settle; you’re too good for that.”

With an abrupt turn, Silken and Taffeta walked away from Lauren and me towards the door. Just before they left, Silken turned back towards us with a very genuine smile.

“By the way, I love that blazer!” she called over Fuel’s clamorous sounds. Before I could respond, the two witches waved and stepped into the night air.

LESSON:

Firstly, I must say that as an alpha, I tend to meet strange people all the time. I share this particular meeting with you because of Silken’s advice to me:

”Don’t settle; you are too good for that.”

At the time, I was young and very self-conscious with a skewed self-image. Not emotionally equipped to think about her words, I brushed the remark aside. Now that some years have gone by, I realize the value in those eight little words. That encounter has taught me not to disregard people so easily. Chance encounters should really be called Kismet encounters. They happen for a reason and almost always leave you with some sort of wisdom. Silken gave me a great piece of wisdom that day and she didn’t even know me. I also realized her use of the words you are. Most people would use the contraction you’re and call it a day. It’s as if she saw something that I couldn’t see and really wanted to stress her point. Quite frankly, I didn’t see what she meant for some time. The best thing is that wisdom has no expiration date.

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