This Spooky Season, Hold A Bitchass Bitch Trial
The leaves are a-changin’, the air is a-crispin’, and it is ON.
It’s officially spooky season. You’ve been waiting all year for this! But here’s the tragedy of it — there is no ghost so fleeting as Halloween, and it’ll be over before you know it. So this Halloween, try a new tradition, one that lengthens and truly honors the spooky season by paying tribute to one of our most notorious American events. Hold a Bitchass Bitch Trial.
That’s right, you heard me — just like they did in old Salem, get into the spirit by putting your loved ones on trial for Bitchass Bitchcraft. They’ve been straight-up disrespecting you all year and it’s time for them to fucking hear about it.
Your friend couldn’t attend your birthday bash? Trial. The guy you’re “dating” asks you out, and then asks YOU what to do on the date? Trial. Your sister didn’t remind you to apply bug spray at the lake house this summer and you got completely eaten because you have sweet blood and mosquitoes love you? TRIAL.
“But isn’t this a little extreme?” you say. “It’s not like my family and friends are actual witches.”
Wait, you believe in “actual” witches?? But that aside… are your family and friends realistically conspiring with the devil or planting a poppet in your bed? No. Do we live in a tyrannically Christocentric society that fears the devil irrationally and violently? Well, debatable. But are they inconveniencing and embarrassing you, which is arguably worse because they’re the people who are supposed to care about you but can’t seem to be bothered to act like it?? Undoubtedly.
So nobody thought your joke about calling a group of squid a “squad” was funny? Trial. Your friend says he’ll bring weed for your housewarming, then rolls up with a single tiny joint because “it’s his thing”? Trial (including some questions about “his thing”). Your cousin brought Jeff to the group-hang again? TRIAL.
“Well when you put it that way, I do have frustrations,” you say. “But I’m just not a confrontational person, you know?”
Well, buck the fuck up. You think everybody sat around in Salem, worried about hurting each other’s feelings? No. They got down to business and accused family and acquaintances alike of all manner of sins with an abundance of righteousness and indignation, and so should you. You know better than them. You are better than them. And nobody can ever, in any way, for any reason, despite any evidence, question your experience.
So your dog chose to lie on the floor instead of cuddling with you? Trial. Your co-worker returned your book with the page corners folded, instead of using a goddamn bookmark like a civilized person? Trial. Your brother, while on trial, insists on embarrassing you by refusing to engage and declaring that you may take his soul but you must leave him his name, like some kind of goody-two-shoes Gen Z John Proctor? SKIP THE TRIAL. He’s definitively a bitchass bitch.
What’s that you say? My definition of bitchass bitchcraft seems broad and random? Oh, I didn’t realize that the good people of Salem were incredibly specific about what constitutes “actual” witchcraft, probably because they had their priorities straight and were focused on actually stamping out said witchcraft to protect the community and the general vibe. I didn’t know that you hated communities, or vibes.
Oh, you have more questions now? Oh, I seem like I have a crippling victim mentality and could benefit from professional help? Well guess what, buddy, I already have professional help, and my therapist says that I have a very keen sense for identifying issues and could probably easily resolve them.
And you know what, somebody’s starting to sound like a bitchass bitch. That’s right. I think you just made my docket.
Bitchass bitch.
