This morning I walked out to my car and found a small black cloth-wrapped parcel on the trunk. After a couple of gingerly tugs I was able to determine that it contained a dead pigeon. Fortunately it was trash day, so I was able to deposit the unfortunate avian into the trash can and head to the office.

After some consideration I decided a counter-spell of some sort would be appropriate. Since the folks who left me the pigeon clearly know nothing about ritual magic, there was no reason for me to call in professional help. Following rudimentary principals I sketched me, my car, my house, and my cats on a 3x5 card, rolled it up and put it in a plastic tube, and wrapped the tube in rubber bands. The whole package was then placed conspicuously on my porch. With any luck the person responsible for the dead bird will see the tube and realize they aren't dealing with some amateur, and will back off.

I admit, though, that I am at a loss as to who would try and hex me. Even though I've lived here for several years, I don't know my neighbors well, except for the nuns across the street and the very friendly Haitian family next door. I'm not even really home enough to piss anyone off. Ah, well, who knows? Maybe this wasn't intended for me, and I'm just caught in the mystic crossfire.