The Owinn witch enchanted Lingfellow, her familiar lap dog and sent it up Hag Mountain to overcome her reeking nemeses. The cur was enchanted to believe itself to be a man, a short, fat, silly looking man. Others were deluded to believe the same nonsense, but Lingfellow was anything but a man. Witless to the cunning ruse, Tabby didn't notice that Lingfellow was a mongrel. Thinking him a proper captive, the Witch locked the quasi-human in with her other old captives.
Old men are easy to kill.
Glutted with moldering entrails and prisoners' cakes, the curls puke puddled in flatulent clods throughout Tabby's prison. The Witch turned him out after she skidded in the bilious slime and skated the breath of a cellblock. Lingfellow couldn't be deterred from lapping up his own festered vomit. Repeatedly the imitation man slinked back into the caves to feast upon his regurgitated porridge. To a witch', familiar, Little Debbie is better the second time around.