Ritual at 7:45p
Show at 8:00p
$10 at door
Mima Good is a semi-fictional Salem witch resurrected as a millennial feminist by her post-punk blood-goddess grunge-blues Coven.
MIMA GOOD was always a good wife, or
Some say she often quarreled with her husband,
called him bad names
Many recall her being followed around by a young Irish immigrant she purchased for 15 pounds.
Some say she was just a common menopausal whore,
but everyone remembered one thing in particular:
her big, black, lace hat,
simply gaudy, absolutely ridiculous,
almost menacing, totally asking for it,
and she was never seen without it.
It was winter 1692 and the teenage girls of Salem were shivering hormones, with only prayer to disguise their dirty thoughts.
Sometimes, when it is truly very cold,
there's but a small distinction between faith in God and Satan.
Or maybe teenage boredom is the devil himself.
Either way, the girls started to
In other years this may have been called extreme fandom,
but here it was
These poor, innocent girls,
by the devil himself
or… could it be? here? in Salem?
Could there be...
Elizabeth Hubbard walked in on Mima naked-breasted and bare legged on the kitchen table and that's when we all knew:
There be witches in Salem.
That’s all it took to send Mima down,
Twirling her hair
Awaiting her stage.
In the center of town square,
a barren wooden plank,
befitting of no diva
there stood Mima,
in silver chain anklets.
The teens quivered.
“Mima loves you”, she whispered.
Mima pressed against her chest and the girls screamed out in pain.
Mima leaned back and the girls did the same.
Her head thrust backwards,
A long, glorius, cackle,
And the girls’ heads swung back like marionettes.
“Witch!” “Mistress of Satan!”
“Yes” she giggled, “Satan whispers sweet nothings in my ear.”
Mr. Good was called upon the stage.
“Wife, are you a good witch or a bad witch?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Mima, Are you a good witch or a bad witch?”
She smirked with no reply.
“I’ll ask you one more time,
Are you a GOOD witch or a BAD witch????”
Mima looked straight into the crowd,
And straight through Mr. Good’s soul and said:
Baby, I’m a bad, bad, witch.
They burned her right then and there,
the smoke formed secrets in the wind,
that I accidentally swallowed,
Ritual at 7:45p