She was fat, old and smoking. Perched on

She was fat, old and smoking. Perched on her dias, which was her 2nd floor balcony. Every morning, a 30 oz bloody mary stirred with a chopstick was breakfast. She insulted any

passersby who hollered up to her. Yes, Madame Wong was a bitter woman. Washed up. Bankrupt after she sunk all her lottery winnings into a failed business. Sipping her bloody mary,

she felt the discomforting body tingle of unmistakable déjà vu. Madame Wong thought she heard something. No, maybe not. Yes, there it was again. Aroooga, Aroooga, Aroooga.

It was the sound of the Klaxon on Madame De Vil's automobile. Madame De Vil leaned out the window. "Get out of the way Madame Wong!" Madame De Vil's scarf got caught in the wheel

of her automobile, It broke her neck, It made a heck, Of a mess on the Rue de Gonville, Duck dong Madame Wong, Tho' she'd done nothing wrong, Caught a bus to Saigon, Disguised as a

witch with dreadlocks of moss, her neck fully broke when she slipped on duck sauce. Ding dong, the witch is dead! Madame Wong the witch is dead. Her torso's separate from her head.

Things could only go downhill from there. I heard that most of the gang was arrested for murder, incited by religious hatred of wiccans. No-one believed that it was an accident.

And it wasn't. In his cell, Jordyn watched the timepiece he stole slow down. A crack formed across the plastic covering. Why?

Buzzing filled his cell. The crack in Jordyn's timepiece grew bigger, and the hands stopped working. He didn't mean to open the crack in time, really. It sorta happened on its own.