Friday, October 29, 2010

The Accidental Rootworker

Initially, I was determined not to sleep with him: Over the course of our evening together, he told me how committed he was to the Baptist Church, and that Christ was his personal Savior, and that he thought Unitarians were "spooky." Not too auspicious in terms of common ground.

But he also had a charming Cajun accent and a barrel chest and really big biceps. So when he noticed that the bar was closing and suggested that crashing at my apartment would probably be safer than driving all the way back to Louisiana, I demurely concurred.

Lust does strange things to the gay brain, especially when it comes to selective memory. In this situation, a guy with a "Real Men Love Jesus" bumper sticker was following me home, and it never occurred to me that my taste in d├ęcor might work against his religious sensibilities. Or at least, it didn't occur to me until after I'd unlocked my front door and ushered him into my living room.

"Oh," he said, surveying the scene. "You're Catholic."

"I'm actually not," I said, casually draping a newspaper over the pile of Witchcraft books on my dining table. "But I do have an appreciation for Catholic art."

"Oh, okay. Cool. And is that... is that a flying penis statue?"

"Yeah. It is."

"Is that also Catholic?"

I didn't have a good response, so I pretty much just started making out with him.

Clothing suddenly became an annoying hindrance. Things progressed from there.

Although it probably goes without saying, there are certain amorous, homosexual diversions that require, well, accoutrements... by which I mean personal lubricant, which I regretfully did not have in stock. So when the Cajun expressed heated interest in a particular activity, I had to say sorry, but not going to happen.

Being an upstanding, Southern gentleman, he understood. Again with the progression.

Later that night, after much smooching and cuddling, the Cajun excused himself for a quick second and popped into the bathroom. After a few moments, he returned with something in his hands.

"I thought you didn't have any lube," he said.

"Um, I don't."

"But I found some in your medicine cabinet."

Confused, I ran a quick mental inventory of said cabinet: Toothpaste, cologne, antibiotic ointment, dental floss, styling gel and... oh shit.

"Whoa, dude, wait," I said. "I promise that's not lube."

"Of course it is," he replied. "It says so on the label."

And then he dumped a bottle of Conjure Doctor Brand True Love Oil all over the place and got busy.

Instead of sharing any more intimate details, I'd like to skip ahead about 72 hours to another telephone conversation between myself and Dr. E.:

Dr. E. (after listening to the whole story) - "WOW. Did the oil irritate your skin or anything?"

Me - "You know, it really didn't."

Dr. E. - Good! Glad to hear it. So... what happened next?"

Me - "Well, it's been three days and he's still here."

Dr. E. - "Interesting. Would you be willing to write a product testimonial for my website?"

Me - "I would, but that's not the point."

Strifemongers, here is the point... or, if anything, here is a pointy, tangly question: Could a devout Christian with no ties to or knowledge of the occult unintentionally make use a metaphyisical concoction, thus unwittingly casting a spell?

I don't know, either. But my bedroom currently reeks of love.

And that, my friends, is auspicious.


Deinos said...

I would posit that the spell was cast by your beliefs and not his, regardless of who lubed whom up.
But, you know, feel free to provide further details. The situation bears extended analysis.

Brother Christopher said...

I believe in the efficacy of curios and concoctions alone to work magic, regardless of the users belief, faith or what have you. It may not be as effective as a worker, working with intention and proficiency in the ars magica, but it can still work.

Also, he is from Louisiana? ummm hello? there is a good chance he is surrounded by this quite often, and doesn't even bat an eye when he sees it. He can love Jesus, and know how some tricks for luck that his grandma taught him.

Veles said...


w/v: hessor

he-sore, oh but I slay myself!

Anonymous said...

Holy Cow. That's amazing.


Can I get some of that oil shipped overseas?

Pallas Renatus said...

Three days? Wow dude.

I'm with Brother C. on this one; well-made curios have plenty of bang on their own. Not as much as they'd give when used in spell-work, but as you saw, enough to work when you need them to =)

Gordon said...

More important question:

you ran out of lube??

Anonymous said...

The Right Oil + Vigorous Application = Spell

2 + 2 = 4

what is so complicated?!

More importantly, have you gotten around to the "So I'm not ~exactly~ Catholic.... convo yet?!?"

Most importantly, does he have a brother?

Bo said...

marvellous! I'm glad you've been, er, busying yourself.

Anonymous said...

wow. the last time that happened to me it took a foot of snow to keep him there 3 days... ;-)

Chiron Armand said...

I'm with Chrysalis both in comment and question. A damn good oil was used vigorously in a Great Rite extravaganza during which I'm sure some Stars were spilled.

I expect photos of the Cajun shortly.

knottybynature said...

Evn, I have yet to meet you face-to-face, but you know I love you, right? :D

Many times reading your writings, I have laughed myself to tears. This is one of those blogs. I love your humor.

Anonymous said...

Gahahhaahh Oh these stories are so funny! Thank you or sharing this with us :D