SECOND CHANCE SALOON

 

Maître Alchimiste: On the shelf to your left, you'll find a flagon containing fricasseed newt tongues in apricot jelly.
You'll want to mix it with elm sperm after midnight at the New Moon.
 Allow the mixture to coagulate for a fortnight (bringing it to the Full Moon) and then you must heat it to a boil and add a goblet full of the urine of a pregnant horse. Allow it to cool. Add a handful of saffron and cinnamon. Don't skip this step or the taste will gag you.

Isisdora: What on earth are we doing? 

Maître Alchimiste:  Alchemy - combining elements to create new things or, in this particular case, to manifest a desired outcome. 

Isisdora: Must I pepper you with questions or will you simply tell your plans for this...this...stinking goop?

M.A.: This is a recipe that will provide you with LAFS - Love At First Sight - something that all maidens of your natality dream of. 

Isisdora: Piffle! I no longer trust falling in love at first sight. It's killed me more than once. It always ends in buckets of pain and blood.

M.A.: Ah, but it inspires your creativity, does it not, Maîtresse des Arts? Are you saying that you don't want this recipe? 

Isisdora: I do not want this particular recipe, no. What I'd like in its place is a way to increase creativity without having to withstand another failed romance, if you don't mind.

M.A.: Sigh! Very well then - I'll consult the Lacnunga - my book of remedies. I'll make use of the nine sacred  herbs: mugwort, plantain, shepherd’s purse, nettle, bettony, chamomile, crab apple, chervil, fennel. If it doesn't increase your artistic genius, at the very least if will clear up any skin conditions that you may suffer from.
No matter, it will work like a charm because it is a charm. Oh! How I amuse myself.

Isisdora: I must be on my way, Maître. Send me a turtledove to announce when this spell has been completed.

M.A. : Oh no, no, no, no, no, Maîtresse! You must fully participate in this ritual to bring it to fruition. Tomorrow night at dusk, you must present yourself to my charm circle in the forest. Are you familiar with it? It's west of the mere and four steps backward from the bent pine.

Isisdora: What shall I wear for this ritual?

M.A.: Nothing. We will be sky-clad.

Isisdora: Uh, no. I suspect an ulterior motive on your part. I've heard what you get up to with the village maidens in your charm circle. I'm not like the other girls; you should know this by now.

M.A.: Ah ha ha ha! You have me there, don't you? All right, wear a gown of gold.

Isisdora: I'll be all in blue.

M.A.: Am I getting old?

Isisdora: Oh no, not you. 

M.A.: Be off with you, ya lttle scamp - I have spell-casting to do. 

On the morrow, the two meet to greet the dusk and cast the spell. However, the alchemist has shifted the focus of the intention. He plans to cause Isisdora to suffer LAFS for him against her Will. He doesn't realize the power that she holds against the magic of those who have their own benefits in mind while casting spells.

The spell in question:
Take the fragment of the tip of a toenail, add man seed together with blood from a cat… Pound the seed and add mandrake root and put it in a cup of summer wine. Recite the spell seven times over it and have the woman drink it in the fading light of day. Thus, the drinking will cause LAFS with the first man encountered.

After the magic has been completed...but the charmed fluid not yet drunk...

M.A.: There! That was easier than I thought it would be. Here have a little sip of the prepared beverage. You'll be flying high with ideas in no time - trust me!

Isisdora: My father always warned me not to trust anyone who says "trust me" because it means they cannot be trusted. I suspect a ruse on your part. Have a little sip to prove that this is no trick.

M.A.: Oh, I couldn't! This is meant for you, my sweet. Really. I shouldn't. It could be hazardous to a male.

Isisdora: Drink it! Now! Or there will be hell to pay!

M.A.: There are worse things than hell to pay. I didn't prepare a counter spell.

Isisdora: DRINK IT NOW!

M.A.:  Please, no. Please...be merciful.

Isisdora: (raises her arms and inhales deeply).

M.A.: Wait! WAIT! I will do your bidding! (takes a small sip)

Isisdora: MORE! Drink it down! 

M.A.: (weeps as he guzzles it down)

Suddenly, a masked horseman rides into the clearing. Maître Alchimiste falls to his knees as his eyes take on an admiring gaze. He's besotted. He's smitten. He's infatuated with the broken-down Knight of the Second Chance Saloon riding his old gray mare.
Isisdora laughs merrily at his fate.

Isisdora: How long does this spell last, Maître Alchimiste?

M.A.: Not long enough, I'm afraid - I want to love this man forever. He's my Knight in Shining Armoire! 

Isisdora: He's furniture to you? 

M.A.: The finest closet a man can find.

Isisdora: Let this be a lesson to you - never use magic if you intend to take advantage of the petitioner. Now you'll learn the hard way just what having LAFS entails.


©Ellen Pepper 2025