“This is reporter Lasarge of Green Meadows reporting for FN. Burning drapery, drenched furniture, and liters and liters of ice water streaming down the palatial stairs of Winterfell Manor, site of this year’s Midnight Ball, the pinnacle of elite witch social life. Apparently an unnamed wood pixie and warlock engaged in spell fisticuffs during tonight’s festivities. Right here, we have a witness to tonight’s carnage. Ma’am describe for our audience what you experienced.”

“Well I simply couldn’t believe it. I was reaching for a canapé when this I don’t know what creature—like a pixie only wingless—barges in. Dressed. In a swirl of vermillion silk, She was raving. Something about a wife. The tray of savories incinerated! There was hail and lightning inside the ballroom. The hors d’ouevers were ruined,” Claudette of SpringBloom said.

“Well I knew she was trouble at first sight. Clark and I ran into her at the entrance. Impudent little minx. I saw her throw herself at Selma’s boy in the foyer. Poor child! He was overwhelmed. Kissing and groping, that pixie was all over him. It was practically obscene,” Lady Kate chimed in.

“Dear the poor child is 124 and could bench press a cauldron. It looked like the warlock adored the pixie. His hands were all over her considerable charms,” Lord Clark added. “Harlow chased after that pixie even when she turned the buffet turned into a glacier. Reminds me of when I was young witch. The stories I could tell.”

“Shut up, Clark, or so help me.”

“Thank you Lord and Lady Windsome. So according to eyewitness reports this appears to be another awful case of Magick on Magick violence brought on by inter species dating, the latest fad sweeping the realm. Back to you in the studio, Frenla.”

“Thank you Lasarge. Stay safe out there. Next up cooking eye of newt the low carb way.”