"The tongue of a newt, the root of Redweed, make my cauldron bubble quicker than the ex who stole my centipede—Hey!"

The broom hastily flew away before the rather spry hag could reach it. Twirling around the ceiling like a dizzy fly, it bumped off of amphibians in jars and pots overflowing with dried herbs sourced from the apothecary down street, just next to the charm shop that refuses to sell to anyone with an Aquarius star sign.

"Charlie! Charlie!" the witch called, "Get your bristles down here before I unanimate you by evening." Her demand was stern and well-rehearsed, though she was promptly distracted by her ladel slipping into the unemulsified layer of her brew. She grumbled.

Above the hanging lantern cased in rat bones and pretty pink stained glass, the broom taunted her with a sweeping motion against the ceiling, though the hag was fixated on her brew again. It then smacked the boards above it, resulting in a persistent thunking sound. The witch snorted.

A faintly flowery aroma arose from the cauldron, signaling the mixture was under stirred, so the hag ordered a nearby wooden spoon to mix it on it's own. She drew her attention back to the rascal above her.

"_Charlie Stickleson_," the witch said in a slow tone, raising the eyebrow that only appears on seriously unnmanered occasions.

A few uncontrolled taps responded.

"Okay okay, Charlie. I'll make you a deal here, my sweet bunch of splinters. You fetch mother that vial of goat's milk all the way on the top shelf, and I'll letcha play with your favorite metal bucket," she coaxed, although she was interrupted before she could even kneel down under the larder to retrieve her bargaining tool.

Charlie knocked the unmarked vial into the witch's hands—with a hard smack from its wooden handle—and bumped into the larder several times in anticipation. The narrow bucket, with enough dents to be considered fine art by a pompous fool, was propped onto the handle of the broom, and the witch took a step back, covering her head. Charlie wasted no time.

The window to the muggy brick building flung open faster than a pot frothing over on a smoldering flame, and Charlie took to the skies, a bright sun meeting the dust and cobwebs that followed the broom through the opening. Whirling clouds dotted shadows on the small, costal town beneath, lending shade to three bright red street cars, dozens of little buildings lining a slender stone road, and a not so distant black cat spooked by the sudden loud noise.

Immediately, the broomstick zoomed just overhead of the street, surprising a bright-haired woman drying linens, and followed a familiar path outside of town, almost hitting a few folk in line for the renowned bakery that only closes one day a week; it was that popular.

A figure called and waved as Charlie approached, but she could not be heard from such a distance. And as the broom slowed to a stop nearby, hovering over the pasture just outside a farm, Becky, a grey-haird farmer in dirty overalls, gave Charlie a'good scratching along its broomstick pole. The bucket slid gently onto the ground, off Charlie's handle.

"Alright lil'sweeper, let's get a few chores around here sorted out! I appreciate the help this morning."

The broom nodded in agreement.

"And a small rembursment is waiting for you afterwords, Charlie."

The broom twirled in a circle. It knew that it was time to get to work.

Many heapings of cow milk were transported and half a horses worth of grain was retrieved from the tall silo with only the aid of the dinged up bucket and the broomstick that seemed enthusiastic to complete each new job. By noon, all the odd tasks had been completed, including the instance of a chicken saved from a precarious position where it flew all the way on the top of the barn; but who could say how it really got there.

With sweat on her forehead, Becky placed a few coins into Charlie's bucket, about enough for fare all the way to the next town. "There you are, champ," she said taking a seat on a crooked log.

The broomstick shook the change, rattling it in the bucket, and began towards the town, ready for the next part of the cool, summer day.

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