Once upon a time not so long ago in a land that’s right here actually there was a fairly attractive 30 year old recent divorcee who didn’t look a day over 26. Despite not looking a day over 26, the recent divorcee was sad. She was sad because she didn’t have a name. Her parents forgot to name her when she was born and had been only known as “Oh What a Pity!” ever since.
On a lovely spring day the recent divorcee and her merry band of frolickers went to a festival. The festival involved much people watching and beer drinking. A good time was had by all who attended except maybe that guy who was puking in the trash can but maybe even him, too.
After much people watching and even more beer drinking it was decided that a change in location was in order, for food and beverage were scarce and group was thirsty for more mead. A nearby pub was chosen. The group danced, ate and drank even more.
What the recent divorcee did not know was that their waitress was not really a waitress at all, but instead an Evil Angry Witch who wore mom jeans and could kill a good buzz with the snap of her hideously gnarled fingers! Oblivious to malevolent presence the group continued to be merry and celebrate the day.
Once the check arrived the Evil Angry Witch swooped down on her Evil Angry Witch broom and demanded to know how the check was to be split amongst the group. The recent divorcee ever-so-sweetly explained that two people would be on one check, two others on another check and herself on a third, separate check. And yes, she smiled with her eyes.
The Evil Angry Witch cackled, “Well I know that, my little pretty. Don’t you see? I’m a Witch and therefore I know everything! I am also wearing jeans from 1993, but they give me my Evil Angry Witch power so I wear them even though they are so out of style, it’s amazing that I can put them on in the morning and say, ‘Yep, that looks good” when I walk out of my lair.’ My jeans told me that those two are one check, those two are on another and then there’s you-the Lone Wolf on check all by yourself!”
“The Lone Wolf?” puzzled the recent divorcee. “Whatever does that mean?”
The Evil Angry Witch croned, “Don’t you seeeeeeeee my dear? You are the Lone Wolf! You are too young to be a cougar, but are clearly alone here in this pub. So you are, in fact, a Lone Wolf!”.
And with that The Lone Wolf’s buzz was knocked down about three pegs and The Evil Angry Witch only received a shilling for her less than exemplary service. The silver lining is that from day forward the recent divorcee was no longer called “Oh What a Pity” and the Lone Wolf can howl, “Ruff, ruff. Watch your mens” and everyone lived happily ever after.