There were once four powerful witch covens: the witches of the mountains, the deserts, the forests, and the seas. For a thousand years they made war with one another, casting curses and hexes and bringing all manner of malady to the land in their hatred for one another. One day, they decided the only solution was to convene for a meeting of all the covens, in which they would either strike a deal for peace, or end it all in violent bloodshed. The sea witches arrived first, carried upon a tidal wave that bore them up and onto the coast, the waters crashing loudly as they struck the shoreline as if to announce their presence. The mountain witches rode down the hillside upon magical storm clouds, thunder and lightning bursting from their steeds of vapor, a tumultuous blizzard ravaging the mountains in their wake. The forest witches, shape-shifters, emerged in the form of gnarled roots which encircled the meeting place and rose out of the ground, bending and twisting into humanoid silhouettes from which sprung skin and clothing, as a flurry of leaves swirled around furiously. The sand witches arrived in a catering truck.

Sam goes into Macy's, to the lingerie department, and he says to the salesgirl, "My wife has sent me in for a Jewish bra, size 34B, and she said that you'd know what I meant." The saleslady says, "Boy, it's been a long time since anybody's asked me for a Jewish bra. They usually ask me for a Catholic bra or a Salvation Army bra or a Presbyterian bra." He says, "Well, what's the difference?" "Well," she explains, "the Catholic bra supports the masses, the Salvation Army bra uplifts the downfallen, and the Presbyterian bra keeps them staunch and upright." He goes, "Well, then what's a Jewish bra?" "Oh, a Jewish bra makes mountains out of molehills."