Just when you thought Wacko Jacko could not get any more bizarre, a new report says Michael Jackson hired an African voodoo chief to put a death curse on Steven Spielberg and David Geffen.
And the King of Pop sealed the deal by bathing in sheep's blood and having dozens of cows slaughtered, according to a story in the April issue of Vanity Fair.
Jackson began his quest for revenge by forking over $150,000 to a witch doctor named Baba, who put a hex on the Hollywood bigs three years ago in Switzerland, the mag says.
"David Geffen be gone! Steven Spielberg be gone!" chanted Baba, who assured the Gloved One that Geffen -- who heads DreamWorks Pictures with Spielberg and Jeffrey Katzenberg -- would be dead within one week.
To strengthen the curse, the report says, Jackson went to another witch doctor and "paid six figures for a ritual cleansing using sheep's blood" and the slaughter of 42 cows. For his money, he also reportedly got the "blood of a number of small animals for yet another slaughter."
Some of the cash was paid to a go-between, a mysterious woman named Samia, who came to Jackson with a letter of greeting from a Saudi prince who is now the kingdom's chief of intelligence, Vanity Fair says.
Spielberg and Geffen were two of 25 people on Jackson's "enemies list," the mag reported. Jackson reportedly hates Geffen for being a part of what he calls Hollywood's "Gay Mafia," which he believes sank his career. And he's mad at Spielberg for nixing a deal to star him in a new version of Peter Pan.
Neither Geffen or Spielberg could be reached for comment. Jackson's company, MJJ Productions, did not return a call.
The mag also says that Jackson wears a prosthesis that serves as the tip of his nose -- because of a lack of cartilage from years of plastic surgery.
"One person who has seen him without the device says he resembles a mummy with two nostril holes," author Maureen Orth wrote.
A member of the Los Angeles District Attorney's Office -- which probed 1993 allegations that the singer abused a boy at his Neverland ranch -- told the mag:
"We had a ‘special friend' identified every year for 10 or 12 years. They were all pre-pubescent boys between 8 and 12 years old, and as soon as they started sprouting whiskers -- whoosh -- they were out the door."