Salvador Dali Figure on the Rocks

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was already going wrong. The earlier rehearsals had their little teething troubles, it was true, but Hwel had known one or two monumental horrors in his time and this one was shaping up to be the worst. The company was more jittery than a potful of lobsters. Out of the corner of his ear he heard the on-stage dialogue falter, and scurried to the wings.
'—avenge the terror of thy father's death—' he hissed, and hurried back to the trembling witches. He groaned. Divers alarums. This lot were supposed to be terrorising a kingdom. He had about a minute before the cue.
'Right!' he said, pulling himself together. 'Now, what are you? You're evil hags, right?'
'Yes, Hwel,' they said meekly.
'Tell me what you are,' he commanded.
'We're evil hags, Hwel.'
'Louder!'
'We're 'What are you?'
'We're hags, Hwel!'
'What kind of hags?'
'We're black and midnight hags!' they yelled, getting into the spirit.
'What kind of black and midnight hags?'
'Evil black and midnight hags!'Evil Hags!'Hwel stalked the length of the quaking line, then turned abruptly on his heel, 'And what are you going to do?'The 2nd Witche scratched his crawling wig.'We're going to curse people?' he ventured. 'It says in the script—''I-can't-HEAR-you!''We're going to curse people!' they chorused, springing to attention and staring straight ahead to avoid his gaze.Hwel stumped back along the line.