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Texarcana never looked so good. Not nearly as good as a Greyhound full of witches packed aboard on a journey to Alamogordo. Despite what you might believe, they cannot eat that much. Wolves could perhaps, but not greyhounds. What really happened? There was an unfortunate game of chicken. Witches playing chicken is not the same as ordinary chicken. What you end up with is a bunch of smaller and smaller witches who can't get much smaller but won't admit that they cannot. Next thing you know there's this mangy little ex-racing dog lying down on the sidewalk in a small Texas town who's just picked up the a whole abashed coven or conclave desperate for transport to somewhere other than the middle of the wasteland of the sidewalk. The effects may wear off at anytime, no telling. The voices will grow along with the dubious characters masquerading as fleas at which point being a deaf greyhound with the ability to run fast under duress isn't so bad of a thing.