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I’ll Witchiepoo You!!
by C.L. Halvorson
We loved television when we were kids.
Heck, I still love it. We only had five channels when we were young.
The three major networks, PBS and an all movie channel that some local
outfit put out. No one had cable TV. This city was a forest of leggy
television aerials. Tin foil crunched into odd shapes on TV “rabbit
ears” was also a staple in American homes.
I do not remember us watching a lot of
television when we were young, but I do remember what we
watched. We weren’t allowed to ever watch the news. This was during
the Viet Nam War and our folks thought that old Walter Cronkite was
showing some mighty graphic scenes. Daytime TV was our fare. Monday
through Friday offered your standard third grade and younger
programming. This included such classics as Romper Room (good
grief that lady was annoying), Sesame Street and the rest of the
PBS lineup.
Saturday was a special day for
television. Saturday was the day we didn’t even go outside until after
lunch, once the cartoons and kiddie shows were over. They started
early, even before the sun came up. We arose early and plopped
ourselves in front of the set still wearing our pajamas and devoured a
bowl of glucose laden cereal. We pulled out the little knob that turned
the appliance on and slurped our breakfast while it warmed up.
Televisions did not always give you an immediate picture when turned on;
we had to wait until that little white dot in the center of the screen
magically became a full screen Technicolor wonder. Of course we had
color TV. What? You think we were poor?
My very favorite Saturday morning show, H. R. Pufnstuf, came on dead last. This was the coolest show I
had ever seen. It was all about this young boy named Jimmy, who had the
neatest English accent, and his magical talking flute, Freddie. One day
while walking along, Jimmy and Freddie come upon a boat. They decide to
climb on board. Right here we know this is pure fantasy. No one would
ever climb on someone else’s boat without express written permission
with a release of liability to the owner attached and signed, in
triplicate. Anyway, I digress; let us return to a time before lawyers
could advertise.
Jimmy and Freddie sail away on this
boat. They’re seen by the evil Witchiepoo who must have Freddie the
Flute to add to her collection of magical goodies. She turns the boat
into an evil boat which attacks our heroes forcing them to jump ship and
swim for shore. There they discover Living Island and meet up with
Sheriff Pufnstuf who just happens to be a large green dragon that walks
on two legs and speaks perfect English.
Every episode of the show basically had
the dastardly Witchiepoo trying to pinch Freddie from Jimmy and Jimmy
trying to make it back home. Witchiepoo had these two stupid henchmen,
one a vulture called Orson and the other a spider named Seymour. When
Witchiepoo got aggravated with Orson and Seymour she would bonk them on
the head with her magic wand. Remember that part; there will be a test
later.
One fine Saturday afternoon after our
shows were over, we headed back to the nursery with our tummies full of
sugar coated with frosting and our heads full of wonder. We decided we
would play Witchiepoo. Witchiepoo might have been the villain of H.
R. Pufnstuf but she was also my favorite character. She got the
most laughs. I, of course, took charge and gave myself the role of that
rascal Witchiepoo. Sara and Diana were cast as Orson and Seymour.
Costumes, we needed costumes. A pair
of red pajama bottoms with the waistband pulled over my head and the
legs left to dangle behind resembled Witchiepoo’s braids closely
enough. Diana’s old huggy blanket would make a fine cape even if it was
pink and not black. A wand; I needed a wand. Ah ha! Sara’s baton
would make a fine magic wand. Sara and Diana didn’t require costuming.
I merely instructed them to walk hunched over like the two henchmen and
wear a stupid look on their faces. I looked them over. Yes, they were
perfectly cast. Now, on with the show!
As our little scene played itself out,
there came a passage where I, a.k.a. Witchiepoo, was to strike Orson,
played by Diana, on the head with my magic wand. I lifted the baton
over my head to give her a firm bonk on the noggin. Diana ducked. Sara
was behind her and she caught the full blow right on the side of her
head. She dropped like a sack of doorknobs and was out cold.
“She’s dead,” gasped Diana.
“She’s not dead,” I spat, beginning to
panic.
“Nope, she’s dead and you killed her.
You’ll definitely get the chair for this,” she sure was calm for some
reason.
“They don’t put kids in the electric
chair. “ I was sweating now.
“Can I have your stuff once they send
you up the river?” Diana inquired.
“No! Now shut up or I’ll knock you on the head next!”
Oops, shouldn’t have said that. Diana
ran out of the bedroom like a shot from a cannon calling, “Mama!
Daddy! Cara killed Sara! They’ll give her the chair! Can I have her
stuff?”
Mama and Daddy both burst through the
door of the nursery. Mama bent down to the still unconscious Sara lying
prostrate on the floor. She began gently calling Sara’s name and
alternating between patting her hand and her face to bring her around.
After a few minutes Sara regained consciousness and I finally let out my
breath. She took one look at Mama and Daddy’s worried faces then
looked at my slightly panicked countenance and began to cry. Oh great!
This was all I needed. She was a better actress than I thought. What
was all the fuss about? After all she was alivel.
Suddenly, Daddy spun around like a man
possessed and loomed over Diana and me. His eyes were wide with fury,
his teeth were tightly clenched and the little vein on the side of his
head looked as if it might blow any minute.
“What happened?!?!” he roared.
“Well, you see we were playing
Witchiepoo,” I began timidly.
“What the hell is a Witchiepoo?” Daddy
demanded.
I started to explain the program to him
starting with Jimmy and Freddie finding the boat. I soon realized
though that he was in no mood for a lengthy dissertation. He wanted the
short version. I had the idea that a visual might help him.
“…but Diana ducked so my wand hit Sara
on the head like this,” I explained as I raised my arm and started to
bring the baton down in Diana’s general area. Daddy grabbed my arm just
in time to prevent me from becoming a repeat offender.
He wrenched the now somewhat bent baton
from my hand and said, “I’ll Witchiepoo you!” and brought the prop down
on my cranium. I definitely saw stars, just like in the cartoons; but I
never lost consciousness, thankfully.
Sara sat on the floor looking pleased.
Diana looked disappointed that I would not be executed after all.
And I decided I definitely needed to choose another career path…acting
was just too painful.
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