A story of witchcraft in the age of computing.

Down in Dr Diverse’s digestive system, Bertie was clinging on to Miss White for all he was worth. Foul juices churned around him, and he had to fight to stay attached to Miss White as the muscles of the digestive tract contracted round the frog to drag it further and further towards the dragon’s stomach. That wasn’t all. The smell was awful. It reminded Bertie of the day he was hiding in the compost heap and Jim tipped a slurry of rotting cabbage leaves over him. His wings had stunk for hours, even after he’d flown backwards and forwards through the lawn sprinkler whenever Jim’s back was turned. And this time there was an additional torture. His ears hurt with all the noise of the muscular contractions and liquid slopping about. Slowly, and with difficulty, he tried to crawl along Miss White’s back so he could get to her head and talk to her. But it was a battle he was losing as he was getting more and more tired....