Sprite...I mean, spite. I have a lot of that.

I hated the stupid pointy hat that sat on my head.  I hated the stupid cloak that Moll made me wear.  I hated the stupid cauldron that I had to lug around to our kitchen and down the stairs.  I hated the way my stupid broom would fly away when I'd try and sit on it.  But, most of all, I hated the way my stupid parents left only a stupid note and hid it in the stupid picture frame.  I mean, if I was a wizard (or warlock or guy-witch or whatever it's called) why did they leave it to my b-witch little sister (okay, two years difference) to let me know and teach me all this stuff?  I mean, how did she know and I didn't?  What was I doing when she was being taught?  Talk about unfair!  I was supposed to be the older brother here!