What a glorious morning thought Lucy. The smell of her coffee was strong and sweet, like her farts.

Molly didn't like mushrooms, and she wasn't that particularly fond of magic either.

It's raining, it's pouring. My old man is whoring.

What a bloody mess, she said loudly in an Australian accent. Molly had her period. She wasn't going to cry, but she had spilt milk on the kitchen bench.

The pre-Christmas cheer was really getting to Molly. It made her tired and constipated. She wondered if on Christmas morning her gift would be the challenging ability to shit coal?