'Perimenopausal Maleficent Watches Bob Ross Videos When She Can’t Sleep' by Laurie Marshall

Maleficent curses as she stirs Splenda into her decaf. She knows it’s the right thing to do – cutting caffeine, limiting sugar – she rejects the suggestions she received at the Evil Queens Bookclub to try hormone replacement or, worse, yoga and journaling. But what kind of power will she retain when word gets out that she nods off during late afternoon meetings with her executioner? How confident can she be that her staff will accurately discern between her spectacular-but-typical rage versus a simple cortisol spike? Her masseuse suggested lavender oil and her apprentice filled her chamber with ylang-ylang candles from Glastonbury. She conceals crystals of amethyst and jade in her sweaty bosom. As she gazes at the sampler over her wardrobe that reads “True greatness is born of pain.” she is stricken with tears. She drags the iPad from the bedside table and pulls up the Bob Ross channel on YouTube. She wonders how many of her past indiscretions can be attributed to “happy accidents”.