"Whatever you say, fag hag," Ryan said with an odd lilt in his voice, "Ry-guy's going to get him some. Yes'am." He started waggling his Speedo clad ass as climbed the stairs out of the basement.
The witch rolled her eyes, and muttered, "Some folks might consider turning that jock boy gay was a good deed. Just hope the boss doesn't." She went back to her cauldron, but her conscience kept nagging at her that her spell may have messed up someone else's plans. She wasn't even supposed to be here now, she looked over her shoulders suspiciously for fear she might get caught.
It was a special brew in the cauldron, and in her own time there had been too many interuptions. So she had shifted herself to a future time when the house had been abandoned. Abandoned, but not uninhabitted. She bent to her work, she had a few more hours before the spell was done.
"Now let's see did I add the right amount of harelip before the clumsy athlete intruded?" she asked herself unsure of her actions. She held up the jar, and tried to remember if it had been fuller than it was. The spell called for three harelips. One would be too few, two not enough, and four or five could be lethal. She was sure that she'd put at least one in, maybe two. One more or less couldn't create that big a mess? She decided to consult her crystal orb before continuing.
"Let's see it should be in here somewhere," she said rummage through a beat up old satchel, "Ah, yes here's my baby." Her eyes glimmered as she unwrapped the velvet scarf to reveal the glowing orb. The image flickering in the orb belonged to Ryan, and she could see he was about to run into someone. She licked her lips, and leaned forward to watch the events unfold. She had time for a little break.
Ryan stopped short at the intersection of the hallway from the basement to the main corridor. A shadow fell across his path. Someone was walking toward him. He froze holding his breath in anticipation.