Three Word Thursday

acersecomic, n. — someone whose hair has never been cut
uberate, v. — make plentiful or nourish
snilch, v. — to eye someone or something

Here's a refresher from last week (I'm continuing the story..it had potential)

The witch hisses in a breath as she whirls around. She flings a gem at him and watces it ark toward him. She vocitates a malison under her breath, and smiles satisfactorily at the puff of smoke he makes as he absquatulates...

The wizard Acersecomic stands up. He curses under his breath as his long hair is yanked by a gnarled branch. As a child, he had been cursed to bear the characteristics of his name; not being able to cut his hair until an enchanted silver pair of scissors was recvered from a witch thrice as powerful as he.
For understandable reasons, he had not pursued any such witch. Until yesterday that is. Or was it yesterday? She had zapped him with a 'disappear-to-God-knows-where' spell. Since he wasn't God, he had no idea where he was. And why he had such horrible shoes on.
For years he had resignedly uberated his locks of gray hair (for some reason it had always been gray), thinking it was hopeless. Then yesterday, that unfortunately fateful day, eveything had changed.
'You snilched me!' she shouted.
He didn't even know what that meant, and was pondering it when she poked a massive ringed finger in his face and said:
'Get up! Don't you ignore me!'
He got up.
She zapped him with a 'stand-still-without-moving' spell, one he later learned was her specialty.
He shook it off with a 'I'm rubber-you're-glue' spell and ran. Too bad she had gems with her. They amplified a spell twenty times, increasing it's radius and accuracy. And she had got him.
He looks down at his shoes again. Why? They are purple clogs with red dragons' eggs painted on. He would never choose these willingly!
He sits down heavily. Just where is he and WHY does he have these shoes?


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