Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
Overheard Before the Man-Making
“Hey, it's N, the soon-to-be-man of the hour,” I say. “You all ready for your circumcision tonight?”
It wouldn't be a rite of passage without a little gallows humor beforehand.
“Ha, ha,” he says. “Pagans don't practice circumcision.”
I check my trousers.
“You sure about that?” I ask.
He snorts and shakes his head. What do you do with an elder who thinks he's a comedian? The expression on his face says: You're incorrigible.
“Well, don't worry,” I tell him cheerfully. “I'm sure we'll think of something.”
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