A Radio Interlude With The Hannah Hag
This is Simon Spann, host of Supernatural Scoop on station BEHR, live from Hannah, Alabama. It’s the witching hour, and our special guest today is the Howling Hag of Catman Road, also known as the Hannah Hag. For those of you unfamiliar with the tale, the Hag and her . . . er . . . bloody appetites have been the subject of urban legend in Behr County since the 1800s. Sitting beside her in my studio this morning, I can honestly say the survivor accounts of her monstrous appearance do not exaggerate. In my twenty-plus years as a paranormal investigator, she is the ugliest creature I have ever encountered. Picture, if you will, a hideous old woman with scabrous skin, sharp, black teeth, and vicious claws. Truly frightening.
Thank you for being with us, Ms. Hag. (pauses) Addressing you as “hag” seems rude. Have you another name?
Hag: Of course I have another name, idjut, but I ain’t telling you. (Hag waves) Hel-lo—monster? There’s a price on my head. Hag will do.
Spann: Um . . . yes. Well, moving along. You requested a spot on our show. What brings you here?
Hag: I’m looking for a thief. There’s a reward in it for anyone who helps me catch her.
Spann: For our listeners, the Hag maintains she is the victim of a crime. Any chance you can tell us the name of the thief, Hag?
Hag: (snorts) Big on names, aintcha, sonny? The gal’s name is Sassy Peterson, and she stole my fairy juice. There’s ten thousand smackeroos in it for anyone with information on her.
Spann: Peterson . . . as in the Petersons, the richest family in Behr County?
Hag: That’s the one. A real perky little do-gooder, this chick. Rainbows and lollipops shooting out her—
Spann: (coughs) Yes, well, can you give our listeners a description of her?
Hag: Petite. Blonde hair. Pretty. A real tasty dish, if you take my meaning. Hangs around with a big, muscular guy named Grim. Easy on the eyes, that one, but dangerous as all get-out. Dalvahni, you know.
Spann: I’m not familiar with the Dalvahni. Are they a local family?
Hag: Hell, no, they ain’t local. They ain’t even from Earth. They’re demon hunters, dim bulb. Immortal, hardnosed and stubborn, and damned nasty when riled. If it weren’t for Grim, I’d have Fairy Puss in my clutches by now.
Spann: “Fairy Puss?”
Hag: A nickname for Sassy. She didn’t just steal my fairy juice. She drank it and got herself fairyfied, the impertinent little twit. (loud crash in the studio) Oops, sorry about the table, but thinking about it gets me steamed.
Spann: Did this Dalvahni fellow aid and abet Sassy Peterson in the theft?
Hag: What? No, but she’s got him wrapped him around her little thumb, all the same. The big oaf calls himself her bodyguard. Don’t that beat all? I mean, what business is it of his?
Spann: I take it this Grim fellow’s pugnacious character has complicated your plans to recover your property?
Hag: You can bet your boots it ain’t helped matters. Guards her like she’s a steak sandwich and he’s a starving man. But Grim Dalvahni won’t stop me from getting what’s mine. I had plans for that fairy juice. Big plans. You think I like going around looking like this and gobbling up little kids? (Hag gives a teary sniff) No, sir. I do not.
Spann: And it is your fervent hope that the medicinal properties of the fairy potion will change you for the better?
Hag: (chuckles) Sweetest little granny you ever seen, as long as I drink my fairy juice.
Spann: I see. Can’t you just get more juice?
Hag: Sure, sure, but it takes time to distill fairies, and I need it NOW.
Spann: I’m afraid I don’t understand. If Sassy drank your juice, how do you plan to get it back?
Hag: For reals? What is this, your first fairy tale? Think about it, slowpoke.
Spann: (gasps) That’s horrible. Surely, you don’t intend to—
Hag: I’m hungry. Whadda you got for eats in this joint?
Spann: I . . . I’m afraid we don’t allow food in the studio.
Hag. That so? You look nice and tender to me, a real treat. Come to mama, big boy.
(Piercing screams and static, followed by dead air.)