Please read back to “pants on fire.” if you’d like a reference as to whom instigated this conversation….
[I recently dyed some pink streaks into my hair to give it a little flava (yes, I said flava, deal wit’ it). ]
Mr D: What the….??? Miss R, you’ve got pink in your hair?? What are you, some kind of witch??
Me: A witch?? Huh? No! Well, I guess if I am going to be a witch, I’d at least like to be Glinda the good witch, from Wizard of Oz.
Mr. RL: (jumping into the conversation) Naaaah, nah, now I don’t really understand how your hair makes you a witch, but I DO know that you ain’t no good witch — a crazy witch maybe….in fact Mr. D, I think you are right, Miss R, you are a witch. [Mr. ML walks into the room] Hey, did you hear Miss R is a witch??
Mr. ML: Oh yeah, I know — she a crazzzay white witch!
