How we think the fight will go

Peter Grant and his reliable ghost-sniffing dog, Toby, were in the process of practicing his magic on a farm outside of London when he accidentally threw a house on top of the Wicked Witch of the East. Upon hearing the witch’s screeching cry, her sister, the Wicked Witch of the West, flew to the scene on her broomstick only to see her sister’s legs twitching under the weight of the heavy house. “Who is responsible for this?” she yelled.

“I’d say whoever was attached to those striped stockings,” Peter replied.

“What?” the Wicked Witch screeched.

“All I’m saying is that she got in the way of that house I was trying to move there—”

“Do you think this is funny?”

Peter shrugged.

“I’ll get you and…your little dog, too!” yelled the Wicked Witch. At which point, seeing that this witch was clearly not a ghost, Toby ran away.

The Witch threw a fireball at Peter, who jumped behind a nearby bale of hay. Peter reached for his cell phone and called Beverley Brook, the cutest water nymph he knew, and asked for her help at the farm. “Fine, but will you drive me home in the Jag afterwards?” she asked.
“What? Fine, I’ll steal the keys from Nightingale while he’s reading up on his Latin spells,” Peter replied as he ran to cover inside a barn.

The Witch, furious at his inability to stop moving, created a field of poisonous poppies around the barn Peter was hiding in. Realizing the poppies were making him sleepy, Peter covered his mouth with a rag and ran back into the fresh air.

The Wicked Witch watched as her poisonous poppies were no match for the filtration device Peter had magically conjured around his mouth. She threw another fireball at him…

“Impello!” yelled Peter, stopping the fireball in mid-air…at which point it exploded. “Damn, I hate it when that happens,” said Peter as he reached for his phone to call Nightingale for assistance.

As Peter was dialing he couldn’t help but think to himself how, despite the green skin and abnormally large and crooked nose, the Wicked Witch wasn’t all that bad looking—for an older hen. Then he realized his impello spell had destroyed his brand new phone. So he threw it at the witch.

As the Wicked Witch dodged the projectile hurtling her way, she realized this was much too crafty of an adversary to take on her own. She called the flying monkeys to her assistance, who immediately flew into action. They swooped down and grabbed Peter, carrying him over to the nearby stream and dropped him in. “Take that, you silly little boy!” yelled the Wicked Witch

Just when Peter was about to float downstream—likely to a safer location—Beverley swam up and grabbed him by the arm. “You’re lucky this stream feeds the Thames, otherwise it would’ve taken me an hour to get here,” Beverley said.

Peter noticed through the clear water that Beverley was completely naked and couldn’t help but stare. “Snap out of it you bugger!” Beverly yelled. Peter looked up, “Uh… There’s been an irretrievable breakdown in public order!” They both turned and discovered the Wicked Witch was walking over to them, yelling at the monkeys as they were flying away. “Come back and help me you cowards!” to which the King Monkey replied, “That’s the third time we’ve helped you, now you’re on your own.” And they flew away.

Undeterred, the Wicked Witch proceeded to throw more fireballs Peter and Beverly’s way. Peter turned to Beverly, “If she is throwing fire at us, then maybe we should throw water back at her to put them out.”

Beverly, being of the spirit of the river, conjured up a fifteen foot wave of water to block the fireballs, while at the same time Peter used his impello spell to hold it in place. The Witch kept throwing fireballs at the two, but they were extinguished as soon as they hit the wall of water. Peter tried holding the magic for as long as he could, but only being a magician’s apprentice, he hadn’t fine-tuned his abilities yet. And so it was only a matter of seconds before the wall of water exploded, sending showers everywhere. As Peter and Beverly shielded their heads from the rain they heard a high-screeched moan, “I’m melting! I’m melting!” Running over to where they heard the moaning they found that the Wicked Witch had indeed melted to nothing.

Seeing that the danger was over, Toby ran back to Peter’s side and started barking at the Witch’s hat and cloak. “A lot of help you were,” Peter said to the dog. Turning to the nymph, he said “Let’s go get a pint.”

“Fine…but you’re paying,” Beverly said as they climbed into the Jag, forgetting that Nightingale probably wouldn’t appreciate the fact that they were still soaking wet.

Steven Boriack contributed to this Cage Match

Predicted Winner: Peter Grant