Ladies who Lunch?

Lightning speared the earth spasmodically, like a fork trying
To Skewer a skittish pea. A filthy night, the storm raged over
The canopy of the primordial forest. Wind driven rain roared
And lashed the tops Into a wild frenzy.

Trees danced and creaked to an ancient rhythm. Below a
Cauldron simmered and bubbled over a fire, that in the stygian
Darkness gleamed and winked, with the malevolence in a
Demented polecats eye.

Piercing the night with a strident shriek, a voice demanded
"�� When shall we meet again? "�� A younger more normal voice
Replied "�� I can do next Thursday, if everyone's OK with that. "