"You said this was a youth group. They were going to plan a barbecue, read the Bible. You promised snacks. You dragged me here because of the cute girl whose church picnic you interrupted. This is not a youth group."
The crowd is mostly adults, with yellowing skin and haggard, weary eyes.
"How did you even hear about this?"
There's no sign, of course, but anyone with a speck of magic in their past can see the invisible message above the refreshments: "Witches Anonymous".