Day 137: 5 Minute Freewrite: Monday-Prompt: witches

He was naive and witches were his pet peeve.

Their potions must be their disturbing emotions, that powered their broom to fly past the moon.

Didn't it ever occur, that with every single stir

Of their aphid, stink bug, rat stew; that there would be without a doubt, green goo,

And with every bubble that blew, would give their faces a permanent green hue?

Their so called friendly spiders, bit the pimples on their noses, mistaking them for roses.

Be that as it may, that was the price they had to pay.

Their venom filled bumps, made big lumps; they were warts, of sorts.

"Their witchcraft is daft, simply ludicrous!" Mitch laughed.

Yet, he would still bet you a quarter, that witches would melt; if splashed with water.