Graveyard Dirt: Two Worlds and In-between

Out of Control

How do I know I'm a witch? Because even the crows - and persistent magpie who obviously worked any fucking angle to get a piece of the soup leftovers - can't resist my cooking; it's like something out of a Slavic fairytale. (I think they need one more year of buffalo wings, cheesecake, nachos and pizza before they're charmed enough to do my evil bidding.)