A writer walked into a room,
Filled with witches holding brooms,
She said, "Hey! Do witches read?",
The witches all sneezed.
One witch exclaimed,
"Are you insane?
We have no time,
For silly rhymes!"
"I don't write rhymes,
I write books of lore
You surely will adore!"
The witches heaved
Fell to their knees.
Bats began to fly,
The witches began to cry,
The writer sighed,
Left her book by their side,
And dried their crying eyes.
One witch grabbed the book,
Using a long hook,
She began to read,
Laughing she got off her knees,
Then turned into a spectacular beauty.
She read the book to the others,
The other witches turned into,
her long lost brothers.
"My story was good you see,
Ended the curse of those evil bees,
Who turned you all into witches,
After you came back from the sea.
Now go buy a copy please".
