potion sellah.

EXT. ENCHANTED FOREST - DAY

Medieval England. After a long, sweaty journey, GALLIVAN, on horseback, comes to a crooked, mossy tower deep within the forest. The Tower has no entry, except for the closed window at the top.

GALLIVAN

(Out of breath)

Potion Seller!

(pause)

Potion Seller!?

(no response)

"Ye Who Sells Potions!?" Where art thou ! --

POTION SELLER

(A voice yelling from atop the tower)

WHOMST?? WHOMST?!!... WHOMST DARE TRESPASS UPON THESE SACRED GROUNDS, AND AWAKEN THE GREAT POTION SELLER FROM HER SLUMBER?

GALLIVAN

It is I, S--

POTION SELLER

(Interrupting)

WHAT FOOL HAS COME TO DIE FOR SUCH A FOOLISH ACT, AND SHALT BECOME AN EXAMPLE FOR THE FOOLS-STILL-TO-COME?

GALLIVAN

No other than I, S--

POTION SELLER

(Interrupting, again)

WHOSE BITCH ASS SHALL NOW BE KICK'ITH'D???

GALLIVAN

Tis I! Sir Gallivan The Gentle. First son of King William, and heir to the Throne of--

POTION SELLER

BE GONE, THOT!

GALLIVAN

(Calling out)

I am here in search of a potion!

POTION SELLER slams open the window and appears at the top of the tower.

POTION SELLER

A potion u say?

GALLIVAN

(In shock)

Thou aren't as ugly as the legend foretold!

POTION SELLER

"The Legend" is a tired old hag who doesn't know how to mind ye own business.

GALLIVAN

It is known that The Great Potion Seller sells many powerful potions... Strong enough to break any curse.

POTION SELLER

(Creepily, mocking a child's voice)

"Potion Seller, Potion Seller; To thee I give thy purse. Name your price; for I'd give my life, to break this hellish curse."

GALLIVAN

That was quite unpleasant but, yes, that is how the tale goes.

POTION SELLER

(Without an accent)

What do you need a potion for?

GALLIVAN

...Pardon?

POTION SELLER

Oh, shit, (English accent returns) For why is thou in need'th of an Potion?

GALLIVAN

I do not understand --

POTION SELLER

PRITHEE, GOOD SIR. FOR WHAT'TH DOES THOU NEED'ITH AN POTION FOR?

GALLIVAN

Ah yes! My love has mysteriously fallen under a dark spell... She lays motionless in a curse'd slumber. I believe only a potion of your's is strong enough to save her!

POTION SELLER

(Rolling her eyes)

Let me guess, "True Love's Kiss" just wasn't enough?

GALLIVAN

A Kiss? Without thy love's consent? Why, that would be uncourtly of me.

POTION SELLER

(Surprised)

...Quite shookith that ye said that.

GALLIVAN

Prithee, Great Potion Seller! Sell me your finest potion! Just the very thought of losing my Love wounds me... I shalt not return without an ailment!

POTION SELLER

(Watching him carefully)

Tell me, Good Sir Gallivan. Is this fair lady really your one true love?

GALLIVAN

I love her with every inch of my unworthy soul, Great Potion Seller!

POTION SELLER

How does thou know ye are "in love"?

GALLIVAN

(Hesitant)

How.. how else doth one know?

POTION SELLER

(Smiles))

Doth her blue eyes seem to twinkle when you gaze upon them?

GALLIVAN

(Grins as he remembers)

Yes... Like sapphires reflecting moonlight!

POTION SELLER

Doth her soft touch feel like fire; a warm sensation that you long to hold?

GALLIVAN

Yes! A sensation that only she can cause!

POTION SELLER

Doth your love smell like fresh Oatmeal Raisin? Like the cookies ye mum use to make?

GALLIVAN

Yes, exactly! But how did ye know that--

POTION SELLER

AHA! Just as I suspected. These are the sign of a sinner. Thou aren't in love. Thou art in LUST. You pine after this maiden like a hungry dog.

GALLIVAN

(Gasp!)

How dare ye denounce my love for--

POTION SELLER

No curse as strong as this one can be broken without a test of true love. A "TRUE Test of True Love."

GALLIVAN

Prithee, Great Potion Seller, give me this test! I assure you, as my love IS true; I shall not fail.

POTION SELLER

(Smiles and stares down at GALLIVAN)

Then tell me, Good Sir Gallivan the Gentle. Would ye give all of ye fortune for thy fair lady?

GALLIVAN

...Take all of the gold that I own, Great Potion Seller. My wealth means nothing if not a means to save my belove'd.

POTION SELLER

...But what of the marvelous gifts you wish to buy her? Jewels, gowns, and Gucci Belts? How else will you show her you love her, when words are not enough?

GALLIVAN

I'll show her by holding her in a sweet embrace, as I kiss her lips, softly. Ye olde Actions, speak'ith louder than Words.

POTION SELLER

(Gags)

GALLIVAN

Only a fool would put materials before his maiden.

POTION SELLER

Aye, a fool ye'd be, indeed. But True Love costs more than gold. Nay; even all ye fortune shant be enough to save her life, Good Sir Gallivan.

GALLIVAN

Why of course true love triumphs over gold. But if not riches, then what can I trade for thee?

POTION SELLER

(Smiles))

Good Sir Gallivan The Gentle... First son of King William. Would'st thou trade thy kingdom for thy true love?

GALLIVAN

Thy... kingdom?

POTION SELLER

Yes, ye scallywag, thy kingdom.

GALLIVAN

I am but a Prince, My Father is still King --

POTION SELLER

Would'st thou sign a legal document that binds you to selling thy kingdom to me (when thou is King) to save your precious true love?

GALLIVAN

I... perchance, I could --

POTION SELLER

(Gasp!)

Do ye hesitate, Sir Gallivan??

GALLIVAN

Nay! I --

POTION SELLER

A kingdom over the woman you love, Sir Gallivan??

GALLIVAN

I would never! --

POTION SELLER

(Sarcastic)

Wow what a great king you'll be.

GALLIVAN

But, I --

POTION SELLER

Yer fockin' shite, Sir Gallivan.

GALLIVAN

(Unsheathed sword, pointing it at POTION SELLER. He has a more serious tone.)

I have no quarrel with thee, Potion Seller, but if you shall choose to continue, I may be privy towards violence.

POTION SELLER smashes a potion and with a poof, appears in front of Gallivan.

GALLIVAN

(Is shook'ith)

I- I am not shook'ith by your sorcery, Potion Seller.

POTION SELLER

Ye would kill an innocent potion seller for your one true love?

GALLIVAN

I pray it shall not come to that, M'lady, but --

POTION SELLER

Gross, don't call me that.

GALLIVAN

-- I pray it shall not come to that. But I would indeed'ith risk my life for her.

POTION SELLER

Well, then, Sir Gallivan The Gentle... First son of King William, and heir to the Throne of... Wherever-Ye-Doth-From. Would'st thou give thy soul for thy One True Love?

GALLIVAN

Give ye my wot??

POTION SELLER

Ye heard me, thy SOUL.

GALLIVAN

My wot?

POTION SELLER

Ye SOUL.

GALLIVAN

Nay! That's pro-posterous!

POTION SELLER

Nay it's, "preposterous," ye uncultured swine. And nay, it is not preposterous. It is the True Test of True Love©!

GALLIVAN

How would I live to love my love when I am without a soul? Is a soul not that which gives us the ability to love? Doth a soul not makes us human, and give us purpose to live and love?

POTION SELLER

Chill out, Brethren! Can't ye see?? To give up one's life is the truest test of love. Has thou not seen Disney's Hercules?!?

GALLIVAN blinks and stares.

POTION SELLER

...unCULTURED!

GALLIVAN

Prithee, Great and Grand Potion Seller! I pray thee, enough of this foolishness! I am Gallivan the Gentle, not Gallivan the Gullible. I have been patient, but no longer will I play along with your games. Name your price, fair and square, and ye shall have it.

POTION SELLER

(Uses the creepy child voice from before to recite poem)

"Potion Seller, Potion Seller; To thee I give thy purse. Name your price; for I'd give my life, to break this hellish curse.

(Smiles)

I have named my price, and that price is your life, Sir Gallivan.

(Pause)

Fair'ith and square'ith, I'd say.

GALLIVAN

But without my soul, how will I --

POTION SELLER

Oh sweet, simple, pale White man. A contract would be in order, of course.

(She reveals a sketchy piece of paper)

Sign hither, hither, and hither.

GALLIVAN

But how will I --

POTION SELLER

How will you "hold her in ye sweet embrace, and kiss 'er soft, oatmeal lips" without a soul? Easily. For I won't be taking ye soul right this instance. You shall be free to live the rest of your life until fate decides to end it. Yet, rather than join thy love in the sweet afterlife, your soul shall belong to me.

(pause)

Does thou understand, Good Sir Gallivan?

GALLIVAN

(Contemplating)

...Give my soul... to save the one I love.

POTION SELLER

(Reveals a glowing bottle.)

A worthy trade, for a potion so dank. ... Do ye truly love thy fairest Gwendolyn?

GALLIVAN

Of course I love... -- Now, just hold on just a minute... How doth thy know the name of my love?

POTION SELLER

Answer me, Sir Gallivan! Dost thou love her!?

GALLIVAN

(Anger building)

How doth ye know?!?

POTION SELLER

YE HOEBAG, DO YE LOVE HER !?!?

GALLIVAN draws sword against POTION SELLER's throat.

GALLIVAN

THOU ART A DECEITFUL WITCH! How does thou know of my love's blue eyes!? How does thou know my love's sweet scent? How does thou know my true love's name?!? Was it YE who cursed my belove'd Gwendolyn!? Tell me, or I shall SMITE thee where ye stand!

GALLIVAN and the POTION SELLER stare each other down.

POTION SELLER

(Smiles)

Sir Gallivan the Grouch,

(Yawns)

I grow quite tired of this game. Hither.

POTION SELLER tosses a purple, glowing potion, and GALLIVAN just barely catches it.

POTION SELLER

Thou has past the test. Be on ye merry way.

GALLIVAN

(Confused)

But... Great Potion Seller... I don't understand.

POTION SELLER begins to float backwards and upwards towards the window of the tower.

POTION SELLER

(Calling out)

Tis but a test of strength, wit and love! And you, Good Sir Gallivan, have passed. Ye have deemed yeself worthy; the potion ye seek is now yours. Go to your Gwendolyn. Free her from her curse.

GALLIVAN

...Many thanks, Great Potion Seller.

POTION SELLER

Yes, but henceforth, Young Prince. Heed my warning... Should thou ever threaten me life again...

(pause)

I'll fockin burst ye.

GALLIVAN and POTION SELLER lock eyes and stare each other down. GALLIVAN simply nods and turns to gallop away. POTION SELLER watches him leave.

POTION SELLER

"Potion Seller, Potion Seller; To thee I give thy purse."

(Smiles))

"Refuse to pay, and she'll find a way, to make the curse much worse."

THE END

admissions essay.

Taylor is a graduating high school senior attempting to write her first admittance essay. 

TAYLOR:

(Speaking and writing)

Why do I deserve admittance to this college? Because I am the best there is. There IS no other option. You see those other kids? The ones with 4.0’s? Wack. The tri-sport athletes? Wack. The rich White kids with money to burn? WACK. I am a BROKE Black girl with average grades and asthma, but let me tell you somethin’. 

I am passionate.

I am beautiful.

I am a Cancer Sun/Leo Rising, and I am WORTH. IT.

Who else can do it better? I’ll answer that -- no one. See, I’m already one step ahead of the game. I have always been successful; not always in the most conventional ways, but I always find myself in first place. Like when I won the bake off senior year. I didn’t make any of the desserts but I told my group to do tiramisu and it was the best damn tiramisu Miss Johnson had ever tasted. I took Advanced Culinary II before even considering Culinary I. ‘Cause I ain’t fuckin’ basic.

I am not “smart.” I am an intellectual. I make the right decisions because all I know are right decisions. Like when Jake Evans broke up with me in the 10th grade. Yeah, sure, he was hot, but did I get lost in the sauce? Did I want to get back together? Okay yes, but we didn’t and thank God -- ‘cause the current Jake Evans won’t shave his dirty mustache and thinks his B.O. smells “manly.” I chose to delete his number, I ignored the sauce and since then my skin has been clear, I am hydrated, and my crops are flourishing. You need this type of goodtness on your campus and I can assure you you can’t get it anywhere else.

Look no further, my guy. You found her, yes, here she is. Who is she? She’s me, and I’ll prove it to you. I have plans to change the world. I’ve seen, firsthand, paths that I don’t want to take, so I strive for different ones. I am confident and driven, in a world where that’s seen as a threat, and so I am deemed as just “loud and angry.” Well I AM loud and angry, and I demand to be heard. I work hard because I am not privileged enough to be handed what I want. I am better than what the world sees me as, so therefore, I am the best. 

Do I deserve admittance to this college? The answer is yes. And so should others like me.

(Pause)

But I’m also, like, hella cute, so you should accept me first. 

15

“It’s been five already, you need to get here now,” he said as if he were Father Time himself. The ground was shaking and she dodged debris like she was Kobe. She held the phone against her ear with her shoulder ‘cause it was too loud to put him on speaker.

“I’ve got about ten more and I’ll be there in a sec,” she said, more relaxed than the boy on the line. A tree fell to her left, and she gracefully stepped to the right. She was more annoyed than scared. 

“Last plane over the west coast?” she asked the woman at the desk. He was in Michigan but her friends were in Los Angeles. The world was ending in fifteen minutes and she was choosing her time wisely.

the offering.

Eight AM, Sunday; the Lord’s day.

Upon opening my eyes to the bright new morning, I found myself still tucked in bed; a remnant of Her doing from the night before. Slowly, I removed the soft blankets, and sat up to confront my beloved constituents. Their faces, although stiff, were full of sorrow, for they knew what today’s event entails. With a calm demeanor, I greeted them each with a hug. Theodore, the eldest, squeezed back in response, his plush arms always gave me warmth. Garcia, Pouch and Mystic gazed back in unison, but I sensed their empathy thru their small black eyes. Furbison, my bright young boy, yelled in gibberish and I giggled. Even in these dark times, he still sheds light. Bless his sweet soul. Last but not least, Samantha. With her long, brown hair, and the roundest eyes, she was meant to look just like me. A true reflection of myself. I nodded to her and she stared back. Dare I saw a tear fall from her eye, but I pray that my eyes were deceiving me.

“Shh,” I cooed. “Do not cry for me, Samantha. Save your tears. I am not worthy of them. I am not worthy of you all…” I addressed the crowd.

These were my constituents, my confidants. They knew my secrets and kept them with sealed lips. They have been here since the beginning; for as long as I can remember.

These were my friends.

“Shall I not survive tonight,” I continued. “I would have done it all for you.”

Suddenly the door opened and She appeared.

She towered over us all, the gentle, giant Mistress. Strong and tall in stature, yet each step was poise and light. Her demeanor was kind but powerful. On this day, She wore her ceremonial garments; decadent clothing, suited perfectly for her form. It was pastel in color, and covered in floral patterns. A large, circular hat sat upon her head, forever suspended in-bloom. She looked stunning. She looked like Spring. In fact, she looked like Life itself.

How cruel the universe can be.

To have such a beautiful woman bring me to my death.

The time has finally come. Already? I pleated, but in silence. For she would not have acknowledged my cries. It appears she cannot understand me; my speech is foreign to her. If my words made any sense to her, I fear it would not make a difference. She was the position of authority and a control. Whatever she says is law. She was the commander of this household. I call her Mother.

In one scoop, she lifted me into her arms and off we went, leaving my friends behind.

They stood there, still and motionless. Frozen out of discontent.

Mother strapped me into the seat as if this were an ordinary day. I protested, kicked and screamed; but it was useless. She shut the door and locked me in, with a smile on her face. She took her spot in front, alongside our driver; her larger male partner. He was her second-in-command, and her most loyal servant. I call him Dad. A loyal man, Dad was. He’d follow her to the grave. I respect his intent, but his actions are subpar -- how dare he standby and allow this to occur.

He was her accomplice.

I am alone in this fight.

We arrive at the fortress. A white, wooden structure, with a hexagonal roof. Hundreds gathered in front, each in line for the Offering. A plethora of giants just like Mother, carried and kept their small captives close by. Some of the little ones laughed and played with one another. I winced at their sight. They knew not of what was in store. I prayed their lives would be spared -- or that their deaths were quick. I prayed that my own prayers would be answered. If there were a God, we would be saved.

Or at least that is what I hoped. The last bit of hope I have left to hold onto. For today was judgement day. The day of reckoning. Held once a year, the Sunday after the fourth full moon-- I have been counting the days since the last. We, the Little Ones; are but only sacrifices for the Offering.

And I was next in line.

Mother brought me forward and I held my tongue. I dare not scream; I was now in His presence. Any fight left in me was scared away, leaving me powerless and weak with fear. I went to cover my eyes to shield them from his sights, but it was too late. My gaze met his and I was instantly locked in.

And ohh what a hideous creature he was; head held high as he sat at his throne. He was massive. Much larger than the giants like Mother and her manservant. He was covered in hair from head to toe, with matted patches spread randomly throughout. He wore sickly bright clothing, with dizzying spots and ruffles. His aura was damp and dirty, yet his hairy skin remained a pristine white. He would have been somewhat “adorable” had it not been for his eyes. His dark, soulless eyes that sunk into his deformed head. His ears flopped out and forward, past his sinister glare. He motioned forward and Mother answered by placing me firmly onto his lap. The Final Decision was to be made.

Show mercy! I wanted to say, but only screams and cries were all that I could manage. But was it enough? I was spared the last time; surely I can pass his judgement again. Or will he not be so forgiving?

Oh, please, oh Great One! I wept.

Show me mercy!

His eyes met mine once more. In complete silence, he turned away and faced forward.

With a sudden FLASH -- my world was engulfed in white.

“Say ‘Cheeeese!’... Aw, Samantha, baby girl, you weren’t looking... Let’s take this one again, okay? I’ll count to three. Smile with the Easter Bunny, Sammy! One… Two… Three!”

coffee boy.

Oh shit, he’s here again, I thought as I choke on my Spooky Spiced Mocha. My crush, the man of my dreams, just walked into our favorite cafe. I assume it’s also his favorite because this is the fifth time I’ve seen him here. Not that I’ve been keeping count. It’s only 11am though, he’s here about 30 minutes earlier than usual. Not that I’ve been keeping track of that, either.

I watch from the farthest seat in the back of the cafe as he orders. I nicknamed him Coffee Boy, ‘cause he likes coffee, and looks like a fine ass cup of it too. He’s tall, with chocolate brown hair. Poodle-like curls, with puppy dog eyes to match. I’ve never been close enough to see the color of his eyes but I imagine I’d get lost in them anyway. He’s smiling -- he always smiled as he ordered, always beaming, always happy about something. I need more of that in my life; more of him in general. Plus his jawline is so strong it probably benches 350. I need more of that in my life too.

I wonder what he smells like. Never been close enough to tell. Today he’s dressed comfortably; a v-neck, dark grey sweatpants, with a flannel wrapped around his waist. Maybe he had an early workout this morning, took a quick shower, threw on something and left. He probably wore that shirt two days ago, and thought “no stains, no problem” and wore it again. Which I don’t mind at all; he can defs still get it. He probably smells... earthy, like... like, I don’t know, oak leaves or something. Mixed with his fav coffee blend. Like a clean lumberjack in the morning. He probably smells so F-ing good.

Finishing up, Coffee Boy stood out of line to wait for his order. He grabbed a stirring stick and set it between his lips as he checked his phone. He pressed the stirring stick against his bottom lip and I swear to God I’ve never wanted to be a stick so bad ‘til now. His lips look full and soft, although I’ve never been close enough to confirm. I bet he constantly tastes like coffee -- which again I’m down with that, he can definitely still get it. 

I’ve seen him here five times now, and each time I haven’t even gotten close enough to see what color his eyes are, let alone talk to him. Each time, I’ve sat in the back and watched him get his coffee and leave. I don’t even know his name, but I wish I could touch him. To hold his hand, to feel his skin, to embrace him. I just want to be close to him. To get to know him. To go out with him, and actually fall in love with him. For him to fall in love with me. 

But I can’t even talk to him.

I know all of that will never happen.  So I’ll just settle for the fantasy.

He finally got his order -- a bagel and a coffee like always. I’m prepared to watch him leave again. But instead of turning towards the door he turned and started walking towards me.

Oh shit.

He took a seat at the conveniently empty table; a spot diagonally across from me. 

Oh my God. 

For the first time ever he's close enough where I can finally see his eye color. Of course Coffee Boy has coffee colored eyes. He even smells like coffee -- but it’s probably just the smell of the coffee he's drinking. It's heavily sweet, chocolatey, and familiar; he was feeling festive and bought the Spooky Spiced Mocha too. I watched as the cup touched his lips and I tried not to stare but I couldn't help myself; he's even sexier up close. I have been blessed but I am not WORTHY--

His lips started moving. 

“...”

I was still staring at his lips -- not at the words they were forming, but at how juicy they really were. They kept moving before I realized he was talking and that he was talking to me. I finally looked him in the eyes, which wasn't a good idea either. If I'm not reading his lips then I definitely don't know what he's saying.

“...”

I can’t believe this, what do I d--

I froze out of embarrassment before resorting to the only obvious thing I could tell him.

“I’m sorry,” I mouthed and signed in ASL. I pointed to my ear. “I’m deaf.”

Puzzled, he paused and looked back into my eyes. My heart sank. But then he beamed a smile. 

“It's okay,” he spoke and signed almost naturally. “Please excuse my shitty ASL.”

the party.

So I met her through Ashley; cool Ashley, not Ashleigh Stevenson, the klepto. Apparently she was her friend from like high school or something, they grew up in Wisconsin together -- which is wild because this chick did not look like she’d fit in there. 

Super tall, super fit; bitch she was built like a chocolate Wonder Woman. She had long-ass braids like Beyonce in the Formation music video, except they were grey, and her eyes were hazel,  her natural eye color. I was blessedt to have the same skin tone as her, but her skin was made from actual cocoa butter, while I just rub some on and pretend. Sure, Ashley's cool, but this girl was like, Hella Cool™. She wore all black, expensive-looking clothing. Brands that I’m too broke to know. And her makeup? On point, of course. I’m sure she was highkey Instagram famous and I was just too lame to know her. She was the actual living embodiment of magic. Black Girl Magic. She was even like, super nice to me, like oh my God… how dare she.

“So like, where’s the party?” She asked us, knowing we were gonna go out that night.

And oh let me tell you, she could turn the fuck up.

She came with us to a party at like, Kigma Sappa Pi or whatever. Sigma Delta Airlines, I don’t know, I’m still not used to all these frat names, I’ve only been to like, two frat parties. Jacob Evans was there, with Tommy Smith and they were both trying to hit on her but she was too busy kicking ass in beer pong. She won, of course. We each took a shot of vodka off of a ski, and she chased her’s with tequila. Then out of nowhere Brad-fuckin-Michaels, appears -- you know, Kappa Sigma’s super hot frat president? Dude shows up with a damn funnel and everybody goes nuts. She funneled about six cans worth of beer before saying ‘fuck it’ and did a kegstand -- doing pushups as she drank. 

Upside down. Doing PUSHUPS. Whilst DRINKING.

Listen... This binch was fuckin’ lit. 

Suddenly I see Ashley go upstairs with Brad. Which I mean, that would have been fine if she wasn’t drinking, or at a party, or even in this situation at all. Before I could even take a step, her friend from Wisconsin was already moving towards the stairs. I could barely keep up but I trailed behind, sobering up quick to help Chocolate Wonder Woman beat the shit out of Brad and then take Ashley home. Upstairs was intensely more quiet and emptier than downstairs, as if both the music and everyone else knew not to go up there. It was the weirdest shit.

The only thing weirder was the damn Satanic blood ritual that was taking place in the room that Brad took Ashley into, and honey, let me tell you…

I was shook. 

Four other frat dudes had on these tacky-ass black robes with their stupid-ass frat letters on them, standing around a pentagram formed by crushed beer cans and worn out Sperry boat shoes. Ashley was already laying in the center of them when we busted in, and as soon as we did, whatever demon they summoned came through and possessed Brad Michaels real fuckin’ quick. 

At this point I didn’t know what the hell was goin’ on. But believe me when I say that Ashley’s friend was cool as shit -- ‘cause she went off.

Binch unsheathed two twin cross-shaped blades and chucked them straight into Brad’s demon-occupied chest, before jumping into the air and landing another two into the sides of dude’s neck. Deadass; I could hear “Back In Black” by AC/DC playing on full blast during all of this, too, is if it were a fight scene in a Marvel movie, or something, except, you know, with a lot more blood and a Black female lead. She even went in slow motion and shit when she took out the other boys who tried to stop her. Yeah. The boys definitely died. But was I stressed? Nah. Demon Hunter Homegirl from Wisconsin came to town, got turnt with us, killed some evil spirits, and snatched my edges all in one evening. 

Can you believe that?