[align=center]Warning if you have a weak stomach, have a bucket handy...
[/align]
It was that time again, time for the old hags quarterly bath... not quarter of a year, quarter of a century was good enough for Sycorax. Dragging the heavy tub to the centre of the room, getting it filled with hot water, finding an unbroken mirror in the place (as usually they saw her, screamed and shattered ... at last count between her and Baba Yaga they were up to two million years bad luck between them). Finally ready she dropped the misshapen sack that she had for considerable time called a dress. Knickers had rotted off long ago, and turned to look in the mirror. Just before it exploded she realised the minge had become to look like a grassy knoll and similar colour, her leg hair need braiding and she swore she could see eyes peering from the monster minge. "Oi Oi Oi... tis toime ta clean ya up ya rancid haggis."
Gathering up some gardening shears she hefted her guts out of the way and attempted to trim the hedge, but it simply broke the shears "Oi, yer gonna be loike that eh... Oi'll ferk ya" Scrabbling around she found a box of matches and a splash of turpentine... Splashing it on, then lighting a match, the massive bulk of minge hair bursting into flame just as with a roaring Blaaarrrrrrrrt, Sycorax ripped a fart capable of causing global warming all on its own. Of course it caught and blew her ass over head, leags in the air as the jets stream blew the wall out. A dragon flying over saw the flame and found themselves aroused, till it looked upon her spread legged body at which it clawed its own eyes out, flew off into the forest and broke its neck on a tree. The flock of geese flying over didn't fair much better, the results of the thermofartclere explosion blowing off their feathers and fully cooking them on the way down.
Dragging her old wrinkled fat body upright again she looked in the mirror, and lifting her guts so she could see what lurked below she discovered in place of the mangy minge lay two all beef patties, special sauce, pickle on a sesame seed bun at this point the mirror exploded, but feeling around she discovered minge and legs were as smooth as a zombies backside. Now for the serious work... Taking up a pair of blacksmitsh tongs and bending over at an angle that cocked her ass up like Vesuvius, the sight of which caused a family of bats to fall dead from the ceiling, and reaching between her legs she began to dig for a few things she had lost. A sailors hat still glued to a skull, "Oi so thats where yer went yer little ferker, an here was me thinking yer ran away". Then a house brick, a wolfs skeleton, a bears skull and strangely enough a sharks jaw... and... 'Oi Oi, there ye be" her spellbook bound in human skin followed by a shower of maggots, millipedes, centipedes, scorpions, mice, dead rats and the rotting remains of several cats.
Now to clamber into the tub, the water trying to escape, but too late as the wrinkles, warts, pimples, blackheads, whiteheads, boils and carbuncles slid into the water. From clean to pustulent green with... floaters in less then a minute and that was before she threw her saggy old tits over her shoulders and let the water soak into the accumulated detritus of a quarter century. Reaching across for a hammer and chisel to break up the petrified boob goo. A soak for an entire minute then out, shaking her flabbiliscious folds before adding a dash of salt, a hint of rotting greens and yelling out "Soups on" before getting dressed. Sycorax was now ready for anything.