A couple of days ago I was bored and decided to swing by one of my favortie places to eat, Euro Diner. It's not terribly expensive and the French toast [what I usually eat] is really tasty. Another thing I like about this diner is the fact that it's not incredibly packed with tourists all the time.
Most of the time I stop in to eat later at night but on this occasion it was mid to late afternoon. When I got there, they were mopping in the front section so I sat in the back. It was just me and a small group of people at another table behind me.
I pulled out a small puzzle book I sometimes have with me to busy myself while I waited on my food and soon I began to hear snippets of conversation coming from the other table that caught my ear. Actually it was more of a word that caught my ear. I kept hearing the word coven being thrown around and it didn't take long to piece together that this group of patrons was the coven they kept referring to.
Does that make them witches? I don't know. They referred to themselves as pagans a couple of times, but I don't know how much difference there is between the two. Is a group of pagans also referred to as a coven? Anyhow, witches or pagans, they were a coven.
The point of their small gathering was to decide whether or not they should let a girl who had been showing interest in their coven join their group. Or the club. Because the way they were talking and the things they were saying, it sounded like a bunch of 8-year-old boys trying to decide whether or not this person would ruin their cool club or not.
The leader of the coven was a female who was straight out of Mean Girls. Someone would say, "I don't know, she's kind of mean sometimes" and the leader would say, "I know, she's totally mean and can bring such a bad vibe with her."
Then someone else would say, "I thought she was sweet" and the leader would say "I know, she's really sweet; such a cute thing and so nice." It made me laugh and I started writing down things they were saying.
One of the reasons the leader wasn't excited about inducting this new girl into the club was because "she wants to change her name to Morgana. I mean, that's a cool name, I named my snake Morgana, but it's so done. Kind of like Raven."
And then one of the guys agreed. "I know. "Raven" has become the "Smith" of the pagan world."
I may have laughed out loud at that one. Another "pro" reason to let this girl join the coven was because she had a good singing voice and someone said "she would make a great siren."
People actually talk this? And are serious?
I listened to them talk for a while and soon they got up to leave. The leader was just as I had pictured her. She was a small waif-like woman with long red hair. Her shirt was a red long-sleeved number that was made of a velvety material that looked like she was wearing a slab of fuzzy wallpaper from the 70s. There was also the pudgy plain girl with stringy hair and the goth girl with jet-black hair and multiple piercings.
The guys rounded out the stereotype and looked like they had just come up from their mom's basement after a huge D&D all-nighter. Late 30s/early 40s computer geeks and I swear I could hear the spare 12-sided dice rattling in their pockets. As they left, they were talking about their friend Venus. It was just amazing to me that these people probably hadn't changed a bit since they were teenagers. They still talked about their awesome powers and their pagan names like Garmongus and the yielder of the broadsword.
Perhaps homeland security should shift their focus for a bit. There are some strange happenings afoot.