Quante-who? That be a thing? Aye, aye, quantephobia be a 500 gold doubloon word for fear of swabbies asking questions. Arrr mateys, it be true. Big bad Baba Yaga be afraid of a few weenie questions. But I has me reasons.
When I be only a witchling me mom she sez, “Baba girl, beware of questions. They make witches like us get older. Pretty soon our skin is all wrinkly, we can’t stand up straight, and our teeth start falling out.”
I thought she be feeding me a plateful of bilge so’s I not be asking her anything. Until one day. I flies me soup bowl over to the schoolyard. That day I be late and thar be only one kiddie left. He gives me the stink eye and he opens up his mouth. I is never seen a mouth that big on a kiddie. That mouth it be firing questions at me like they be the cannonballs me dad shoots at Blackbeard and his crew.
Something be happening. Me skin it looks like a prune, me back it bends so far over that me chin sez hello to me knees, and me teeths they waggles back and forth. Son of a son of a sea dog, me mom she be right.
Only one thing be saving me. I sez, “Bowl, heave ho for home, double time.” As soon as we clatters down me chimney, I grabs me a flagon of blue rose tea, drinks it up, and yo ho ho, I be meself again. But that shivers me timbers so much I gets the quantephobia.
Ahoy mateys, we be talking more about they phobias next month. Now I gots to fly. Halloween it be coming at me faster than a speeding soup bowl and thar be a shipload of things to do. I be seizing you later.
Ahoy me mateys, Baba Yaga be blogging. Son of a son of a sea dog, it be a family thing. Me dad he be writing in his captain’s log every night even if he be dead on his feets from doing his pirate stuff. And me mom she be forever scribbling down spells in her witches’ notebook. Sometimes they smoke it be coming offa her pen. Then she cackles and snorts. Shiver me timbers, thar be some good old-timey blogs. Now it be Baba Yaga’s turn.
Aye, aye, I be blogging at you from deep inside the Cedar Woods. Don’t waste yer time looking it up on you computer thingies. You isn’t finding it and you doesn’t wants to come here anyway. The vultures in they cedar trees be giving you the stink eye while drool drips offa they beaks. If’n you sneaks by them with yer liver still in yer body, thar be me house.
Me house she gots her two big chicken feet. She be stomping you into the ground if she not liking the cut of yer jib. If’n you escapes the stomping, you still not be getting inside unless you sez the secret words, which be “w0 xfdf vncn y sdjf.” Oops, me house she shakes me up so’s I not be telling you the secret words. Jfiicreric. Avast me house, I gets it.
Har, har, har, this be more fun than watching a one-eyed parrot dance the hornpipe on a hot stove. But I gots to go now. It be time for me grilled triple cheese sandwich. I be blogging at you again next month. Until then, check out me matey Pat’s website at www.patstarzyk.com. Her ‘What’s New’ page be giving you the poop on me and me Troubles. And send me yer favorite pirate words. Arrrr, we be having us some deep pirate talking. Mayhaps I be telling you one of me secrets.