Folksburywoods Story Blog

“I should flail you and hang your hide on a tree,” cried Baba Yaga.

“I’m sure you should. But, who would keep that flea trap you call a home free from rats?” answered the cat.

The witch stared in disbelief. “You impertinent feline, I’ve turned gods to stone for less,” cried the witch.

“Truly, you have, Mistress. But then again, the gods never chased the termites and roaches from your bed. They never helped you sleep the sleep of the dead,” replied the cat.

Baba Yaga’s rage grew until smoke rose from her ears.

“Enough! I will turn you to ash, you foul-mouth vermin,” screamed Baba Yaga.

“No doubt, my lady, but who would fetch you fresh fish from the stream and grill it to perfection?” said the cat.

The witch stood silent, reflecting on the cat’s words.

“Sylvester, you have served me well, but this disobedience can’t be tolerated. Punishment must be dealt out,” said the witch.

“Indeed, Mistress, torture would be too good for me. Just strike me down with a bolt of lightning and be done with it. Too bad that the salmon I caught will go to waste, but you have your limits,” said Sylvester.

“Salmon, you say?” asked Baba Yaga.

“Yes, it is ripe with eggs, and I know how you adore fried salmon eggs for breakfast,” said the cat.

The witch turned away and then paced to and fro for several minutes.

“I suppose I could forgo turning you to ash this time,” said the witch.

“That would be ever so kind of you. Now, if you excuse me, I believe I have a fish to grill for the Mistress,” replied the cat.

“Yes, and would you add extra garlic tonight?” asked Baba Yaga in a gentle tone.

“As you wish, my lady,” said Sylvester with a wry smile.

Sylvester knew the best way to a witch’s heart was through her stomach. He planned to keep it that way.

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