|The Screw Up Fairy
Ministry of Magic Employee
Joined: 05 Sep 2007
|Posted: Wed Sep 26, 2007 10:00 pm Post subject: Never randomly yell around drunken fairies
|Chris Jansenn sat at the bar, drinking a draft and wondering what happened to his life. In the space of 24 hours, he lost in no particular order, his job, his girlfriend, and his dog.
He was gonna miss that dog.
He was on his fifth beer, and just starting to feel the effects, and his martyr complex began to kick in. He laid his head on the bar, and stared at the grain of the wood, the sheen of the well polished bartop, and the long nails of the woman two stools away from him. When she caught him staring, she lifted her hand to her face and examined her fingers carefully. Caught, he pretended to look at her bust, in a most manly way. No, he was NOT thinking how tacky french manicures were, and how five minutes ago they were, no way. He was looking at...her watch..and her bust. That was his story and he was sticking to it.
After a few more beers, he finally got the false courage to speak up. "You know, sandust would look much better with that outfit, french manicures are so passe."
He shook his head a few times to clear his vision. Evil woman had smacked him with her purse. An ugly knockoff at that. He laid his head back down he was never going to help anyone ever again. Damn he had to pee now. The world was unfair.
"I wish I could just make people listen to me! And accessorize better." he moaned, as he tried to remember how to stand up.
The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by a fuschia light, and a tinkly voice chimed in, "Congratulations! Your wish has been granted, welcome to the fairy division of the ministry of magic!"
He blinked and looked down at himself, and his sequined pink tutu==WAIT WTF?!?!? where the hell had that come from? He looked up at the bar, and noticed nobody was staring. Nobody would in a place like this. He yanked the tutu over his head, only to see a sequined tank top, and matching short pants under it...oh god, let this end. Layer of layer of clothes came off until a small pile was on the bar top. He ran home screaming in the night, hoping this was all some horrible dream and that the morning would bring nothing worse than a hangover.
"And that, kid, is why you can't ever yell when there are fairies around, they take everything so literally," the 'woman' in the blonde wig, crown and red satin evening gown rasped out in a husky voice, and stubbed out a cigarette in an ashtray, careful not to chip the red lacquered nails at the ends of very stubby, tobacco stained fingers.
The boy in question, wide eyed, left immediately after the tale, and went to a safer place to drink, maybe the Three Broomsticks.
As for The Screw Up Fairy, he sat back, drank a few beers, winked at some of the hotter undercover Aurors, of every gender, and waited to see what the night would bring and what small miracles he would be expected to perform.
Panic, disorder, total chaos. My work is done.