That Wednesday morning, I walked into the writers group and settled myself on the tutor's seat.  Everybody was already there, and I received a few disapproving stares from the members.

'Er, excuse me,' said June, 'but that is our tutor's table.'

'Yes, I know,' I said calmly, as I began unpacking my briefcase.

Bob said, in a cool voice, 'Perhaps you didn't understand.  That table and chair is used only by the tutor taking the class.'

'Morning, Bob.  Yes, that's why I'm sitting here.'

There were a few mumbles and mutters from the group as each groped for the right words to say.

'What she say?' asked Louise of Christina.

'She seems to think she's our tutor,' Christina replied.

'Where's Sandy?  Didn't you bring her, Tony?'

'No, she rang to say she wasn't coming,' our treasurer explained.

'I spoke to Rita,' I said, 'You were still on your morning run.'

Just about then June noticed something that the others had missed.  'Hang on, she's using Sandy's voice!'

'She sure is!' chimed in Cathy.  'OK Humon, what's going on?'

'I'm glad you finally spotted that,' I said, letting my smile break free at last.

'You're not going to believe this, but yesterday afternoon, I got a call from Take 5 magazine to say I'd won the makeover prize.'

'Some makeover!  Where's mine?' asked Hilda.

I went on to tell them that the makeover prize wasn't at all what I expected.  Instead of the advertised trip to Sydney, which would have cost too much, they sent the staff witch over to Hilton to perform her job.  After I got over the initial shock, I soon told her what I wanted doing.

'Make me 5 feet 4, and 8 stone wet through, with the perfect figure to go with it.  No backache, no dodgy eyesight, no sweaty feet, no booby traps like me falling over dead 2 days later (or anything else!), and absolutely no selling myself to the devil!'

'So, you want the standard package then,' said the witch, looking disappointed at not being given a decent challenge.

'Well, I'll take an improved memory if you like.'

'Sorry, can't do anything with the mind,' she said.  'It's a purely physical makeover we do.  I can give you longer fingernails though.'

'How about taking 40 years off my age?'

'Not your age, just your appearance.  Who do you think I am, your fairy Godmother?'

Well, we haggled a bit, but soon got it sorted out.  I signed the form using my blood for ink, swearing that I'd never tell anybody exactly how she managed to do all that to me, or to divulge her proper identity.

Strange name she had.  The signature looked like L Ucifer.  Some foreigner I guess!