Entry for 2024 Writer's Contest “I don’t know how to stop my neighbours thinking I’m a witch,” Agnes bemoaned. She and her best friend, Martha, were sitting on the porch, having tea. As if to prove her point, Agnes’ next door neighbour, Joe, came out of his front door, took one look at them, blanched, then hastily turned around and disappeared back inside. Agnes sighed. “But you are a witch, my dear,” Martha pointed out, “We both are.” “Yes, but I don’t want them to think that. Do you have any idea how hard it is to set up a local book club, when everyone is afraid you’ll give them the evil eye?” Agnes complained, “Or get invited to the local potluck, when they’re convinced you’ll put toadstools in the stew?! I’ve tried everything I can think of! I’ve changed my wardrobe to be trendy and modern. I’ve redecorated my house. I chased away the bogeyman that used to live under the porch. I’ve even replaced all the poisonous plants in my garden with normal flowers, but nothing works!” Martha pondered this for a moment, then suggested, “Have you tried refraining from turning the door-to-door salesmen into frogs?” Agnes sat there in silence for a moment, blinking at her friend in bemusement. “Well, what else am I supposed to do with them?!”