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The Bang Bang Theories

And So the Story Goes…

Because I’m an idiot adventurous and have awful brilliant ideas, during my first time in Haiti it made very good sense to purchase a set of authentic, handmade-by-a-mystical-grandma voodoo dollies.

Having never researched the potent magic, spell power or ceremonial instructions of voodoo, I dished over a few cheap bucks and brought my his-and-her Voodoo dollies home to America.

My intent was never for ill powers. In fact, I dubbed these dollies The Trixie and Her Mister dollies, and displayed them on a souvy shelf in the living room, and would make them kiss and cast spells on “us” for awesome travel, good fortune and mystical blessings.

I also am taking this opportunity to note that the Trixie dolly is a larger dolly than the Mister dolly, and it basically is an accurate representation of how I overshadow all of his life. I’d like to tell myself that this is for his best interest because all of my ideas and thoughts are better then his and he must defer to my will; however, he was never really a strong proponent of vacation souvies, and he certainly doesn’t buy into any witchcrafterie hocus-pocus garbliegookie.

So the dollies came home, and they sat on a shelf, and I wished them/us great happenings, and great travels flowed to us, and money was abundant, and then we bought a house and moved.

And the magical dollies got shoved in a box and ended up hidden for years and years buried beneath the rubble that came with moving.

And then Trixie lost her big paying job due to restructuring her and a lot of others right out of work.

They still travelled, and sometimes good things happened. But there was also some strife, and it would cross Trixie’s mind that maybe she needed to invest some time in finding those dollies because they were being smothered somewhere without any air and that’s how she started to feel, too.

Life was smothering her, on and off for years and years.

There was strife and struggles and it was hard to be Trixie sometimes.

But then, as is wont to happen, the tides were starting to turn a bit and things were going okay enough.

It was during Times of Corona, when Trixie was in the basement moving some crap around and selling a bunch of junk online when she noticed a box that was labeled “Living Room Shelf,” and she had her ah-ha! that this must be where her missing items were hiding in plain sight all these years.

Lo and behold, the voodoo dollies where right there on the top. Trixie scooped them up, and brought them outside to her deck so they could blow off the stink of being cooped up in a box and get some fresh air before moving them into the living room of Chez Bang Bang. She waited expectantly for all good things to flow her way once more.

Except all the good things that had been going her way started to unravel.

She started to really not like her job because of bad management.

And then she got unexpectedly sick and ended up in the hospital for eight damn days, needing surgery – surgery to which the trauma doctor told her, “I’ve never worked on such a complicated abdomen before, I guess we’ll see how it goes when we get in there.”

Reader. You never want to be the person who stymies an expert trauma doctor at an expert trauma hospital.

She cried as they were wheeling her into surgery, to the point the anesthesiologist gave her a little something extra beforehand to calm her shit down.

And of course the Corona was going on during all this time.

So when she got home, she took those dollies and set them back out on the deck, letting the rain showers and the elements beat the bad out of those dollies.

They stayed there all winter, through the rain and the sleet and the snow.

And then a super heavy snow fell and knocked a giant limb outta the tree and it crashed through her metal railing on the deck, trying to destroy Trixie’s happy outdoor space.

Trixie knew these dollies had to go, but didn’t know how to get rid of them.

Her friendie googled “ways to get rid of bad voodoo dollies” yet came up empty handed.


Trixie had been busy working hard at manifesting. Every day, focused intent on GOOD THINGS and POSITIVE VIBES, manifesting, manifesting, manifesting and launching her Rockets of Desire.  Finding the nicer thoughts when things weren’t going right, turning negatives into positives.

The dollies and their bad juju were no match.

Out of the blue, Trixie landed a dream job. She won an unexpected little jackpot at the casino. Money flowed right to her and continues to do so. She spent her time with happier, positive friendships, set boundaries that made her more content, said yes to new things that piqued her interest, racked up check marks on the “good karma deeds” side of the equation with zero expectations other than it felt good to do them.

Spring finally arrived at Trixie’s place, flush with new beginnings and possibilities,  and she started the clean up work on the deck. Easily repaired the broken railing, restrung her lights. And the voodoo dollies sat on the table, quietly watching it all.  She talked to them and told them, “it’s time to stop being assholes, you are GOOD VIBE dollies and I will destroy you if you try to act otherwise.”

One day, Trixie had had enough of looking at them.

She picked them up and turned to Her Mister and said, “Well, I think it’s time to destroy these things. Should we burn them, and be done, once and for all?”

Her Mister’s head swiveled towards her, shocked look on his face and he quietly whispered matter-of-factly, “They won’t like that.”

Trixie, perplexed now, as Her Mister doesn’t believe in such tomfoolery: “Are you serious? Because we should just be done with this, don’t you think?”

Her Mister, still in hushed voice asked, “Are YOU willing to risk BURNING DOLLY US ALIVE?”

The answer to that is no.

No, I am not willing to risk that, Reader.

So if you happen to come over to hang out and notice these hanging out on the deck, well…now you know The Rest of the Story.










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