The true and unaltered story of Ishmael, the fat ex-Wiccan.

I made a new friend. His name is Ishmael, and he’s a fat ex-Wiccan. I know what you’re thinking… “What the fuck??” (That’s what I thought too.) So I went ahead and interviewed him for all my crackas who, like myself, demand answers.

Forty Ounce: Ishmael, so… why the fuck is your name “Ishmael”?

Ishmael: Well, Forty Ounce, I was an on-again, off-again Wiccan for 10 years. When I wasn’t Wiccan, I turned to the Amish community to balance things out a bit. I guess you could say I’d lay down my sword, and pick up my butter churn.

Forty Ounce: So, what exactly about Wicca drew you in? You don’t seem like a total douchebag… I’m confused.

Ishmael: Paganism is all about the pussy. You see, Wiccans get to practice “free love”. I thought by practicing Wicca, I’d get all kinds of hot Wicca tail. For instance, if you are a skinny man with white skin and long black hair (or “Goth Wiccan”), you’re guaranteed a license to fuck that no one can take away, with unlimited quantities of ass readily available to you at a moment’s notice. But it’s not easy trying to get all kinds of goddess-loving-honey-pot when you’re a fat guy. So that freedom was WASTED.

Then I’d start to feel all down on myself about all the free cooch I wasn’t getting and I’d go back to the Amish community where it was perfectly acceptable, mandatory even, to get no snatch at all. But that’s not to say there wasn’t a kinky side to the Amish. There was what you could call an Amish “underground” community that practiced Pony Play.

But that wasn’t really my style, and I found it was really all about the shoes. I wanted a woman to dress up as some kind of slutty fairy/elf combo, not a horse with fashionable hooves.

After a while, I’d start to feel guilty for all the elf sex I wanted, but wasn’t getting (the only options with the Amish are Pony Play, or just a whole lot of sex with apple pie), and I’d return to the Wiccan community, where it wasn’t frowned upon to go ahead and tap that.

Forty Ounce: Well, weren’t you disappointed when you’d return to Wicca, only to be denied what you so badly wanted? How did you cope with that?

Ishmael: You could definitely say that, Forty Ounce. In fact, the only reason they even liked me was because I had no self-esteem. Wiccan women hate men, but they like the sensitive guys. So I was often used as a lesbian “vacation” for the ladies who just really wanted some cock every once in a while. Then they’d go back to their polyamorous communes, and I’d be left playing Dungeons & Dragons with the gay guys. They’re known in the gay community as the D&D gays, as opposed to “otters” or “bears”, etc.

I mean, let’s say I played the wizard Vorsongarix, got him to level… say…19. And Vorsongarix gave me confidence because he was like me, only skinny instead of fat, and his intelligence was the source of his power. He could wield magics that could destroy the huge muscular, beautiful bad guys. He was my fantasy of revenge against the superficial and stupid people of the world by the power of overwhelming brains.

Forty Ounce: Gaia. That bitch. It seems like Mormonism would have provided you with a healthy compromise.

Ishmael: I thought about being a mermaid once. Seems like they’d get a lot of sex.

Forty Ounce: Are there any special memories from your Wiccan days that you’d like to share with us?

Ishmael: I once had a friend who was convinced that, given enough “energy”, a person could fly on their own power. I’m not sure what kind of energy he meant (kinetic? electrical? heat?), but he told me this when I was like 15. Even my other pagan friends were like, “Um… listen… I don’t wanna talk shit but… don’t listen to him.”

I also once went to this fall fest with my witch ex-girlfriend and her coven, and they were doing this whole ritual. Picture a bunch of grown-ups wearing dresses and costumes and prancing around, and they were all “we’re going to call the corners and draw a circle!” Once a circle has been cast in a ceremony (you call the four corners, and “draw” it with a sword around the group) you have to “cut” a pretend door through the circle if you want to get out. Start at the ground with your ceremonial knife, cut upwards and over, until you’ve drawn a door in the air, then you can walk through it without “breaking” the circle. All so you don’t fuck up the “energy” that never actually gets identified. So, at one point I was like “Shit I gotta go take a mad pee pee”. So I turned to the robed person to my left and said “Hey, I gotta go drain the lizard”, and they were like “Oooh! Don’t break the circle. Let me cut you a door!” So then, they pull a dagger out of their robe (to which I was thinking “alright now here’s a party I understand!!”) and I waited patiently for her to cut a bitch but to my dismay not only did she NOT cut a bitch but she literally cut an imaginary door in this imaginary circle drawn on this hard concrete floor so that I could exit the circle and go pee pee. I wanted to shake her, but she had a knife.

Forty Ounce: What kind of music do you listen to?

Ishmael: Oh… mostly Coldplay.

***The names in this post have been changed to protect the privacy of the individuals who have contributed absolutely nothing to our country, by cutting fake doors in the air and other useless shit like that.