Macbeth Report

The three Witches are lying face up are on the heath with their heads closest together forming a three pointed star in the middle of the East Midlands, probably stoned on whatever gives them their kicks and two riders approach.

"that was some battle, Banny"
"Your right Mac, how on earth you managed to slash down those three chaps behind you while your back was turned I have no idea"
"madskills. Hey do you find it odd we are referring to eachother by name even though we're the only two people here?"
"But we're not

the riders stop at the tripointed star of witches and there's some confusion as to where the witches came from.

"we should pay more attention to where we ride"

Mac and Banny get off their horses to investigate the oddness.

two of the witches mouth words, one of them has too much saliva and a bubble is formed, which expands for a second or two then pops, the saliva'd witch finds the pop amusing and smiles before rolling their head to the side.

"Get up ya bums!" says Mac
the shouting startles the trio, but they are in too much of a daze to do anything about it
" oh for fucks sake Mac, let's leave it"
"yeah, man"
The pair climb back onto their horses and turn their rides around.
*clip clop clip clop* (it's a concrete heath)
A pair of voices boom.

"A score and three quart a dozen 'sets from now you will be half what you are"
Banny whispers "What?"
the horses stop.
the horses turn around.
"A score and three quart a dozen 'sets from now you will be half what you are"
Banny says slightly louder "what?"
the booming voices say "say what again, I dare you, I double dare you"
"What?"
Banny is struck by lightning and thrown off his horse, knocked out from the blow, mac decides it's probably best left for the boomers to speak.
They recommence
"In half an orbit, what's left of you will rule all but one, but it'll not be enough
what's really important is that when you come at the King, you best not miss..."
"Shi..
*shut the fuck up Mac*
The boomers start another sentance, but it's interrupted by a third voice, a motherly voice, the voice has a tone that has Mac instinctively bashing away a hand thats wiping a smudge off his cheek. The boomers are now silent.

"no" says motherly
"wh.." says mac stopping himself.
"mac, son, you, are going to win the lottery next week"
"nice"

7 days later

"shit that crazy person was right, lady mac, we're on easy street now! No more killing bitches for that prick King anymore, woop woop woop woop, pow pow pow, braaaaaaaaap!"