Hexes, curses and bindings.

I am talking to my friend B. about a recent breakup:

 

Me: He told me he’d never felt this way before, that he wanted to know everything about me, that he couldn’t get enough of me, then one day he called me and said, “Sorry, I changed my mind. I pretended to like you, but I don’t.”

 

B: Wow, do you want me to give his name to the NSA as someone to watch for terrorist activity? Do you want me to drive up to Chicago and beat him up? I can do that, you know.

 

Me: I might not be able to live with that. I’m kinda against the NSA right now.

 

B: Like I said, I can beat him up. I have lots of pent-up aggression, and I’ve been looking for someone to take it out on.

 

Me: Unfortunately, I also draw the line at physical violence. I wish I didn’t, but I do (Sigh in defeat).

 

B: Well, what can I do?

 

I remember that B. used to dapple in magic I bit in high school. I once caught him dancing naked in his back yard. Long story. Begins with the faerie incantation spell of the crescent moon; ends with my eyesight never quite being the same.

 

Me: (Desperate, really really desperate, because I am a (somewhat) rational, unspiritual person) Well, do you have any spells I could borrow? Like, ones that will make him love me so I can spurn him?

 

B: (Somewhat taken aback) I suppose, I still have some on my hard drive…I could forward them to you…

 

Me: Yes, do that. I’ll look at them.

 

B: Do you really want these?

 

Me: No, I’m just really desperate. Maybe you should beat him up.