Faerie Mean

 

“I’ve fought some of the meanest men out there. So what am I up against, poison apples? Lightning bolts coming out of their bony fingers?”

“They’re goblins not witches!” House sniffles before continuing. “Ancient ones. They don’t rely on poisons or vain displays of power. They climb into your brain, learn your fears and insecurities then slowly cover your thoughts in slimy, black goo until it breaks you down completely.”

“Psychological warfare.” He says nodding. “As a soldier I was prepared for that, they can’t hurt me. ‘Sides that only works on the weak-minded.”

“So you think that makes you safe.” House says with amusement. “Tell me, how’s the water in the river you’re floating down, I’ve never been on Denial. You poor deluded thing. These aren’t your everyday variety garden gnomes with a bad sense of humor, these are mean girls. I’m not talking about human mean girls. They’re Faerie Mean.”

“Then take care of it yourself. You’re mean enough,” The self-proclaimed mercenary points out, as the beam of light from the carry lamp he’s holding slowly pans over the rest of the attic revealing more slimy, black goo.

“I already told you, I’m not as powerful as they are. My magic is too weak to overpower an Ancient.”

He nods.

“Since I’m the Commanding Officer at this address. I’ll keep everyone safe.”

“You are dense. Getting these goblins moved out and back to Faerie without some serious firepower would be like taking a bucket of snowballs to storm the beaches at Normandy. One man with a single bucket of snowballs.”

“I took down a conference center full of Ninja-Zombies, one little goblin …”

“Two extremely powerful Ancient goblins,” House corrects.

“Two little goblins.”

“And their slimy, black goo.”

Tinkletoes looks down at the goo that is slowly beginning to pool closer and closer to the soles of his boots.

“And their whatever the hell this is, isn’t going to win. I’m too much of a bad ass.”

“You’re definitely too much of something. So you aren't feeling any different? Have you noticed any dark existential dread sucking away at the hope that you have for even the simplest of everyday joys?”

“My capacity for feeling joy of any kind was yanked out of me a long time ago.”

“We’ll see,” House says.

There’s a clicking noise as he turns off the tactical light before tucking it back into one of his many pockets.

“Back soon,” he says. Tinkletoes heads back downstairs, turning off the lone bulb illuminating the attic as he goes.

*****************************************

Those are the cases I get. Cupid told me when he offered me this job that if I took it

he’d help me find Marion. He’d help me find my girl. I think I might have already

told you that. I have to admit for something I always thought was for wimps, this is

really satisfying work. There are some really stubborn, lonely people out there.

We’re about to meet two of them.

“And … what happens next?” Writer Lady whispers.

Nothing happens next because you don’t have any talent. A voice says.

All those stories written, all those years wasted. Only an idiot would do such a thing. A different voice says.

Writer Lady stares at her screen.

“That’s not what happens next,” she says.

Raising both hands to her face, she rests both palms against it.

“I feel like I’m writing six different stories, one sentence at a time.”

That’s because you are.

ADHD that’s what you have. No wonder you can’t hold down a job.

“I don’t have ADHD. A decade. I had that job for nearly a decade. Having any job over three years qualifies as long term.”

Whatever you want to tell yourself.

“These thoughts wouldn’t keep derailing me if I was working on the right story. Which story is the right story?”

The story you actually finish.

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!”

We’ll never shut up. We’re having too much fun.

The words fill Writer Lady’s head followed by giggling.

Writer Lady focuses on the notebook sitting to the side of her keyboard. Line after line has been scribbled out across pages. Bits and pieces of story after story. So many of them stacked one over the other screaming for attention. She hears the familiar footfall of a self-proclaimed mercenary as he approaches from behind. She feels Tinkletoes standing next to the Big Writing Chair perusing the pages laid out next to her.

“That looks kinda interesting. What’s it about?”

“This one is about the ghost of a mobster who works for Cupid in his afterlife while trying to find out what happened to his one true love. The one above it is about a boy who meets a writer that travels interdimensionally in order to save his characters and try to regain control over his stories when they get away from him. Getting them out of all kinds of scrapes and disasters. This one over here is about a college girl and the other members of the writer’s group she belongs to. They’re all frustrated creatives trying to navigate the world of publishing and online content in an effort to be discovered.”

“What’s that?” He asks.

“A record of the voices in my head I’m hoping Dr. Frankenstein will remove for me someday.”

“What about that.”

Writer Lady looks for what Tinkletoes is pointing to.

 

Every morning upon waking, she cries. Seeing only the darkest of futures for herself in the early moments before dawn, it’s all she knows to do.

“I don’t … know.”

Wondering what it feels like to be running towards something instead of running away

from whatever is coming her way.

“What’s coming her way?”

“Dying alone in a ditch after she’s lost everyone and everything.”

“Which sounds kinda dark. Your stories are good, funny, happy even.”

“I guess long term unemployment does things to a person.”

The self-proclaimed mercenary gives Writer Lady a blank stare. Clearly he cannot relate to her situation.

“War is hell?” She says.

“It does kinda feel like war, doesn’t it? All the hunting around, submitting requests just to be ignored, we’ve all been there. I saw a lot of that while I was enlisted. The weak ones couldn’t seem to handle it.”

“Do you have even a piece of your soul left?”

“No one has seen anything!” Tinkletoes says, for no apparent reason.

“That’s a new development.”

The self-proclaimed mercenary shakes the last thirty seconds off and moves forward.

“I know you’re feelin’ kinda bad today. Do me a favor. Stay here. You’ll feel better soon.”

He reaches down and attempts to give Writer Lady a reassuring pat on the hand. It’s awkward and a little painful.

“Ow?”

“Sorry about that. I think I’ll get going.” He whispers.

“Okay you get going,” she whispers back, watching as he leaves High Command. “I don’t know what’s worse his complete inability to be helpful or my own negative thoughts.”

You.

It’s you.

It’s definitely you.

We’re sure it’s you.

“Where is this stuff coming from?”

Wouldn’t you like to know.

Starter Fluid And Slimy, Black Goo

 

Should I go back? No, don’t go back. Start fresh.

“Where are you going to begin?” Diomedes asks.

“If only I knew,” Writer Lady says.

“I’m sure your story will be flawless wherever you begin.”

“Thank you Diomedes, that’s always nice to hear.”

Writer Lady looks out the window. Spring arrived in its own good time this year. In early May the weather was still too cool and dry to plant much of anything. It makes keeping the yard mowed less challenging but leaves her planters looking bare and empty.

“You’re not writing, are you unwell Milady?”

“What? No, I’m fine. I was just thinking about how empty the flower beds look at the moment.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Tinkletoes says.

The self-proclaimed mercenary stands in the entrance to High Command.

“You usually just roll with things and when the weather’s good you pick up a few supplies and go for it.”

Writer Lady turns the Big Writing Chair to face him. “I do. For some reason the empty planters are more of a thing this year.” She says, cocking her head to one side like she’s listening to something before releasing a sigh.

Tinkletoes turns to leave High Command, stopping after taking a couple of steps, “Not having flowers in the yard can be inhospitable. It takes away from our fellow residents’ enjoyment of the neighborhood. A lady wouldn’t deny others enjoyment of nature.”

The self-proclaimed mercenary shakes his head like a dog drying off after a thorough soaking before leaving the room. Heading into the kitchen, he pulls a mug out of the cabinet that reads, Starter Fluid, and pours his first cup of the day. Noticing something moving in his peripheral vision he looks down to find a ginger tabby drinking some water.

“Hey Dobby.”

“Hey,” Dobby Cat says before returning to his Ninja-Zombie Slayer bowl.

“Your mom, has she been acting a little bit different lately?”

Turning away from his bowl, Dobby Cat jumps onto the kitchen counter and sits down in front of his brother-in-arms.

“Different how?”

“Not writing much.”

“She’s been trying to find a job for a while now. She’s worried about paying the bills and feeding all of us.”

“So things that don’t usually bother her are bothering her. It’s almost like she thinks things she has no control over are her responsibility.”

“Ye-ah,” Ray says as he backs out of the pantry. “Of course things she can’t control aren’t her problems to solve. Just like it’s really not her problem we’re out of cheese puffs. She barely eats any of that stuff.”

Dobby Cat’s mouth drops open in shock. A grin crosses Tinkletoes’ lips, he waits.

“A guy has to take responsibility for his own cheese puff supply eventually. It wouldn’t kill me to buy my own snacks.”

“It’s about time,” Aunt Purdy says as she walks into the kitchen. The cheerfully optimistic woman who is always ready for anything enters the room in her pj's and a ratty robe wearing her bed slippers on the wrong feet.

“There’s our favorite lady,” Tinkletoes says with his most charming grin.

Aunt Purdy stops. She turns and looks at the self-proclaimed mercenary, her eyes narrowed.

“What the hell do you want?”

“Waffles would be good.”

“The ingredients and the waffle iron are right there,” she says, pointing to the pantry.

“Knock yourself out.”

“I’m heading to the store for my snacks,” Ray announces.

“Pick me up a pack of cigarettes, I’m almost out,” Aunt Purdy orders.

“Cigarettes? She’s the World’s Greatest Auntie. She doesn’t smoke.” Dobby whispers.

“She does now,” Aunt Purdy calls back. “Some beer would be nice too.”

“O …. kay.”

“What did I come in here for? Hell if I know,” Aunt Purdy turns and leaves the kitchen, grumbling under her breath.

“Something isn’t right,” Dobby says.

Faint crying can be heard coming from the attic.

“I don’t think it’s only Mom.”

The door to House’s attic is pulled down. The ladder attached to it extended as light enters from the bedroom below. Heavy steps grow louder as the top and then all of Tinkletoes’ head, neck, shoulders and the rest of his body enter House’s most private domain.

The sound of crying is much louder in the uppermost reaches of the building. The sobbing is accompanied by complaining. “This is just so EUUUUU!!!”

The self-proclaimed mercenary reaches for the pull chain and turns on the light, finding his nose millimeters away from touching a slimy, black goo. Removing an everyday carry light…he turns it on.

“Let’s get a better look around, see what’s going on.”

Stepping over to the area opposite the attic door Tinkletoes stops short of stepping into a thick mess of black goo.

“There’s a whole lot of black slime over here,” he comments. “Everything is completely covered.”

“It’s their nest,” House says between sobs.

“Whatever it is won’t want to stay if their nest is gone. Let’s get it cleaned up.”

“With what?”

“Can’t you use some magic and hose it down?”

“I already tried that,” House says, with a long suffering sigh. “That black slimy goo is a residue that's charged with magic. Ancient magic. My magic doesn’t do anything but move it around. Most of it ended up in one spot.”

“So you ...”

“Built their stupid nest for them.”

“That is gonna make it difficult to send them packing.”

“It’s dark up here, like Faerie's underground. It feels comfortable to them. They get to lounge around in their little nest and do what they do best.”

“What is it they do best?”

“They’re goblins. What do you think they do best? They’re mean.”

Tinkletoes' Mission

 

I would like to thank the crew of Firefly (Nathan Fillion, Alan Tudyk, Morena Baccarin, Jewel Staite, Sean Maher, Summer Glau and Gina Torres) for giving my characters something to do.

This writer lady thanks you for leaving an opening for me to have a bit of fun this afternoon.

- H. R. Apostos (Another Browncoat).

“We’ve got your backs.” (TP giggles, holding up a plastic skeleton spine.) “Silly Humans.”

Can’t Stop The Signal. Keep Flying.

Dear :

Nathan Fillion and …

Nathan Fillion and …

Nathan Fillion and …

Nathan Fillion and …

Nathan Fillion and …

Nathan Fillion and …

Nathan Fillion and …

Nathan Fillion and … (I know there were only seven of you but one of you popped up twice.)

That is a whole lot more Nathans than I remember but that ain’t important right now. I just wanted to let all you Nathans know – even the girls - that I watched your panel the other day. As a fellow Browncoat and brother-in-arms I kinda wanted to say, I hear you and I’ve got your back.

Tough guys like us, well, we’ve got to stick together. In the darkness of our universe the little people need Big Damn Heroes like y’all ... and me of course.

I, Tinkletoes …

A buzzing sound enters the kitchen, growing louder, Tinkletoes looks up from his notebook paper to find TP fluttering nearby. The faerie is gesturing to the self-proclaimed mercenary to come closer. Tinkletoes leans in and listens carefully, nodding, he continues writing.

I, Tinkletoes being a fellow Browncoat and upstanding tough guy doth (the faerie told me to use that word) pledge that I will aid in seeing Firefly The Animated Series become a reality. Serenity will speed through the sky once again. Your cause is my cause, ‘cause we’re all in this together. Although Mal and Jayne aren’t quite as skilled and nuanced(?) a warrior as I am, I’m happy to share my ninja-zombie fighting techniques with them if they’re interested whenever they’d like, bring your own grenades and Kevlar men. I ain’t no babysitter. I’m also willing to forgive the fact that the first Nathan ya-hoo looks a lot like both Monitor Man and Mural Man. It’s probably not his fault, everyone has a look alike somewhere.

Anyway, I’m here to help. I’m plannin’ on starting with collecting a couple of those money guys.

TP shakes his head, the faerie flutters in front of Tinkletoes’ face and speaks quickly in a high pitched voice.

“Too aggressive. Really?” Tinkletoes asks.

Sorry about that. Invitin’ some of those money guys for a coffee so I can scare the livin’ …

“Dumbnuts is at it again.” House comments.

The self-proclaimed mercenary glares at the ceiling for a moment before scratching out the previous line.

So we can talk about the benefits of investing in Firefly The Animated Series. I want you Nathans to know that no thanks are necessary. I wouldn’t mind a credit on the show and getting a chance to help out with the actiony stuff. That’ll be thanks enough.

Most sincerely,

Your Friend,

Tinkletoes.

Writer Lady's Day Off Part 5

 

“The gazebo!” Writer Lady calls out. “And that bakery place across the road from it.” She looks at TP. “I need some help. I have one more thing I’ve always wanted to do.”

TP and various ogres are busy passing around mugs of Magimoo Beer, a sweet chocolate milk concoction that has a layer of foam at the top reminiscent of root beer. Coming out of the gazebo TP flies across the road to the place Writer Lady pointed out to find its doors open to the road and all of the residents of Faerie who are standing in it. Visiting, laughing, and celebrating Writer Lady and Captain Ozar’s soldiers’ unexpected win against a wild ogre attack.

The sign over the door doesn’t read bakery at all, it’s called Cookie Bar. A smaller sign has been stuck in front of it that reads Santa Monica Boulevard changing the name of the establishment to Santa Monica Boulevard Cookie Bar. Bars in Faerie are nothing like any bar any human has ever seen before. TP flies inside just as Pixie Too and her band, The Pixettes are playing the next tune. A well known Earth song Pixie Too picked up during her visits to Earth and all that is human.

This ain’t no disco. This ain’t country club either. This is L.A.

A sign with a panoramic view of the village hangs on the wall behind Pixie Too. The words Little Ambling on the scroll that reads “Welcome to Little Ambling” lights up when Pixie says “L.A.”

TP waves and calls out to Whiskie, the proprietor of the cookie bar, before flying over to greet him.

“Many thanks to your for introducing Pixie Too and her band to me. She’s really bringing in the customers. It’s great for business.”

The pair exchange a complicated wave, shooting faerie dust at each other among other things. Writer Lady does a double take at the faerie butt bump she will never unsee as she walks up to the counter to help the next customer.

Pixie Too can be heard singing, All I wanna do is have some fun… as Writer Lady asks, “Hey there baby what’ll ya have?” She’s wearing a colorful frilly blouse with a battle corset over it in a complimentary reddish purple hue that has been paired with a steampunk styled skirt with a front that falls just above the knee. Tall heeled boots complete the ensemble. “I have Peanut Butter bars, Seven-Layer bars, Lemon bars and everything else you see in front of you.”

The faerie points to an item in the display.

“Millionaire’s Shortbread,” she says.

He makes a face.

“It’s an Earth delicacy. How ‘bout a sample?” The customer nods and Writer Lady cuts him a generous piece. She continues talking as he chews, “Gooey, sweet and rich. It’s good stuff!” She watches as the faerie nods in agreement. “How many?”

He gestures towards the tray.

“Half a tray? I can do that.”

Whiskie rings up the sale while Writer Lady packages the cookies.

“Here you go Baby. Next time you stop by try the brownies.”

The customer pales.

“No baby no, you won’t be eating your cousin, this is a different kind of brownie entirely.”

After the customer leaves Writer Lady looks at Whiskie and TP. “We need to call the brownies something other than brownies. Everyone’s afraid to eat them.”

As the afternoon continues, Writer Lady shares Earth recipes and baking techniques. It’s not long before the Closed For A Private Event sign goes up and she and TP take trays of bar cookies and other Earth treats to tables both at the gazebo and lining the road in front of the cookie bar which is now packed full of ogres, pixies, faeries, and the occasional dragon along with several other creatures of Faerie.

Pixie Too and the Pixettes move outside and continue cranking out the Earth tunes. “All I Wanna Do,” by Sheryl Crow being requested over and over. The citizens of Little Ambling are convinced she’s singing about their home. Where else would anyone want to sing about other than a colorful village in Faerie? Where else would anyone find what Earth people call fun? Humans have been wandering over and getting lost in Faerie for centuries. Faerie is absolutely the best place to be. There’s no doubt about it.

Hours after night has fallen, long after Writer Lady’s dancing boots have screamed, “uncle” she looks at TP and mouths the words, “It’s time to go.”

 TP nods. As Writer Lady thanks Whiskie, the owner of The Cookie Bar, Captain Ozar, the ogres who came to her aid when she needed a hand. She waves to the tiny owl, mountain lion, bear, and unicorn who ventured into the village with her. TP points in the direction from which they had come. Writer Lady walks out of the village with TP flying near her shoulder. Both disappear into a late night fog.

Writer Lady is still wearing her steampunk outfit when she and TP reach the carport door and walk inside. Dylan runs into the bonus room to greet them. He smiles at TP, looks at Writer Lady and her outfit, and mouths the word “Wow” before running into the kitchen and calling out “She’s back. She’s back. Writer Lady is back!”

She notices her purse, tote, and mug sitting on the table next to the door. Putting the tote bag away, she carries her purse and Go cup into the kitchen with her.

“Perfect timing,” Aunt Purdy says, “Dinner is nearly ready.” She stops cooking long enough to study Writer Lady’s outfit. “Nice dress.”

“Thanks.” Writer Lady responds as she sits down. She’s trying to decide whether to take off the boots now or later when Tinkletoes’ form fills the doorway.

“So...you’re back.”

“I am.”

“Feeling better?”

“I am.”

“Any new insights on the job front?”

She thinks for a few beats before responding. “I learned how to knock a wild ogre on his butt.”

“That’s no necessarily a transferable skill.”

“Not yet.”

“Did ya learn anything else?”

“Not really but I do think fun is going to be a little more easy to define in the future.”

“That’s something.”

“It is,” Writer Lady agrees.

Tinkletoes enters the kitchen and sits down across from her. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No, it’s not really necessary.”

Tinkletoes pauses a couple of minutes and says, “Dobby and others were kinda wondering what all happened.”

“It was just a little bit of fun.” A smile crosses her lips. “Faerie style.”

“Oh.” Tinkletoes says with a disappointed look. The self-proclaimed mercenary doesn’t move.

Loud chatter can be heard coming from the living room. Then shuffling sounds. She looks up to find Carp standing in the doorway. Tinkletoes turns around.

“She’s not going to tell you anything, there’s no point in you sitting there waiting for info.”

Dylan squeezes past Carp and says, “TP has pictures!”

“He does! Well isn’t that interesting,” Tinkletoes says. “I guess what happens in Faerie doesn’t always stay in Faerie,” he remarks with a grin. Rising from his seat Tinkletoes heads for the living room. “Excalibur? She kicked ogre ass with Excalibur? But she’s a girl!”

“There’s more,” TP giggles.

Writer Lady rolls her eyes at Aunt Purdy who covers her mouth as a laugh escapes. Bringing a cup of tea to Writer Lady she pats her on the arm.

“All I wanna do is have some fun…” can be heard coming from the living room.

Writer Lady stands up and calls. “I thought TP only had pictures.”

“Some of them are moving,” Tinkletoes responds.

“This is the best part,” TP calls.

 You can’t touch this.

“Whoa...Dude.”

Writer Lady's Day Off Part 4

 

A strong female voice echoes, “I got the power!” The opening notes of “I’ve Got The Power,” by Snap plays in the background.

Writer Lady watches as her sword begins to glow, the light growing brighter, as it dims she realizes she’s no longer holding the same weapon. The light continues to dim until only the words inscribed on the blade are glowing. Everyone stops moving as they read the words, 'TAKE ME UP.'

Captain Ozar’s mouth drops open, “Really?”

Writer Lady raises the sword to the sky as the song begins again.

“I’ve got the power!”

The officers' faces drop as they look at Writer Lady’s new helper.

“Excalibur,” One ogre says.

“Where did that come from?” a second ogre asks.

“Does it matter?” the first ogre counters.

“I thought this was a practice session,” the second ogre says.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The wild ogre’s thump is heard well before he appears. He is taller, bigger, and way meaner looking than the ogres making up Captain Ozar's forces. When the officers see him they open the circle and get out of its way. The wild ogre continues approaching, several wild ogres friends follow. The ogre officers that had been Writer Lady are now standing behind her and Excalibur. Residents of the village step back. Waaaaaay back.

Writer Lady closes her eyes for a moment. Nothing can touch me. None of these ogres can hurt me. I don’t need to fear them. The ogres on the other hand…”

“Should be afraid,” TP giggles. “They should be very afraid.”

“Give Excalibur to me,” the ogre in front growls.

Writer Lady looks at TP with mischief in her eyes. Turning back to the ogre she says, “If you want it, come and get it,” she responds, urging them forward.

The first ogre Writer Lady defeated covers his eyes, “I can’t watch.”

“No one gets more than three blows against Excalibur,” Captain Ozar responds.

The wild ogre who demanded Excalibur steps back, allowing the group accompanying him move past. Raising Excalibur with both hands, Writer Lady holds fast awaiting the first blow.

“Any last minute advice?” she calls out to Captain Ozar.

“This isn’t like what you were doing before. You’re going to have to really hit them. It’s going to have to hurt.”

“No pressure there. Anything else?”

“The faster you move, the better.”

“Will it give me an advantage?”

“No. It’s the only way the fight is going to look good with TP s musical number.”

Writer Lady looks at TP. The faerie has positioned himself in front and to the left of the onlookers as well as Writer Lady and her squad of volunteers. Positioned where all can see but well out of the way from where the action is expected to take place.

TP spins around for a wardrobe change. When he stops spinning the faerie is dressed in Hammer pants, a matching jacket, and coordinating high tops.

The beat starts playing, TP dances as "U Can't Touch This' by MC Hammer begins.

Can’t touch this.

Five pixies in coordinating outfits appear behind the faerie and pick up his dance.

You can’t touch this.

The ogres standing behind Writer Lady begin chanting. Oh-Oh-Oh-Oh-Oh-Oh-Oh.

TP continues, My-my-my music hits me so hard, is heard seconds before the first blow is struck.

One of the wild ogres tries to throw Writer Lady off balance by sweeping her legs with an uprooted tree. She dodges it. Pointing Excalibur at the trunk of the tree, a long burst of light moves up its length traveling into the ogre’s hands. Screaming, the ogre drops the tree and falls to its knees in pain.

“That’s one. She’s leveling up,” Captain Ozar observes before hitting an ogre with its own flail.

“I’m not really a gamer and this is not my idea of fun. Where did this guy come from?”

Oh-Oh-Oh-Oh

“He’s an Accumulator. Accumulators are random creatures looking for items of power that would allow them to take over anything they want. Every now and then a new one pops up.”

Writer Lady meets another wild ogre. She thrusts Excalibur into its upper thigh. The ogre screams, knocking over members of Captain Ozar’s squad as it approaches her.

Captain Ozar shakes his head, “Now you just made it angry.”

“Ya think?” she steels herself. Closing her eyes she whispers to Excalibur, the weapon glows, releasing a ray of light that hits the angered wild ogre square in the chest, knocking it to the ground. It stops moving.

Yo - sound the bells, school is in sucker.

“That’s two,” Captain Ozar calls. He looks at Writer Lady. “We have two more of the lesser ogres to go and the ring leader.”

Writer Lady looks up to find the leader leaning up against a tree. “I thought he was here to take Excalibur.”

“He is. He’s watching and waiting.”

“For what?”

“For you to wear yourself out fighting his foot soldiers.”

Oh-Oh-Oh-Oh-Oh

Writer Lady looks at Captain Ozar. “I’m going to need an escort.”

The captain gestures for one of his soldiers to join them, as the ogre steps forward he asks. “Where are you going?”

She nods in the direction of the ring leader and says, “To finish this.” Turning back to Captain Ozar she says, “Have to do it now. The song’s going to be over soon.”

Ring the bell, school’s back in.

Writer Lady continues her trek to the ring leader and looks up. The wild ogre is well over a foot taller than she is and has more muscle mass than any other being for miles.

“You are a female human of Earth?”

“Does it matter?”

“No. Humans are easy to kill.”

“Not all of us.”

“You will be. Give me Excalibur. I may let you live.”

Writer Lady looks around her for something that will give her an advantage. Captain Ozar and the ogre he recruited to help are several feet behind her fighting off the remaining foot soldiers.

The ring leader grabs her shoulder. Bending down, he leans in and says, “Before you even realized it, I took the upper hand.”

She looks him in the eyes and says, “You also have bad breath.” Writer Lady pushes her arm up hard. Excalibur penetrates the wild ogre’s head through the soft flesh covering the creature’s mandible. “I’m ambidextrous you dipshit.”

Captain Ozar raises Writer Lady’s arm and declares, “That’s three. Writer Lady wins!”

The music fades as Writer Lady takes center stage on the village fountain to say a few words.

Writer Lady smiles, “Thank you. I won because all of you were willing to stand with me. It’s time to celebrate!” She says before lowering Excalibur so the top of its hilt is at eye level. “Thank you for showing up for me exactly when I needed you,” she says before planting a kiss on the weapon.

“Where’s the party?” someone in the crowd calls out.

Writer Lady looks around and sees what looks like a bakery at the far end of the village sitting across the road from a massive gazebo.

Writer Lady's Day Off Part 3

 

“You didn’t do the hair thing did you?”

TP giggles, hiding his smile behind a hand.

Writer Lady reaches up and confirms that TP did in fact do the hair thing. Her mouth begins moving, I come home in the morning light…by the time she gets to the first chorus Writer Lady finds herself and her um...entourage in the middle of a cobble stoned street in a brightly colored village on a float that actually floats. Writer Lady looks around for something that tells her where she’s at and sees a sign that reads Little Ambling Floating Band and a group of pixies and faeries holding musical instruments floating behind her.

Pixies line both sides of the street along with ogre families. The adults are clapping and dancing to the music the children are waving at Writer Lady and her new friends. Since TP has taken Cyndi Lauper’s voice and put it into Writer Lady’s mouth she does her best to relax and roll with it. Putting both of her arms out and raising her face to the sky as she sings, I want to be the one to walk in the sun. Dancing in time with the bear, tiny owl, mountain lion and unicorn who have become her back-up dancers. Some version of this was all Writer Lady had wanted. One chance, one moment, one day to have some real rule free, judgement free fun. By the end of the song Writer Lady was adding her own moves, the audience had come out into the street and everyone was dancing. As the song ended TP appeared in front of Writer Lady.

“Feeling better?”

She let her smile answer for her.

“What else should we do?”

A mischievous look appears on Writer Lady’s face. “Does anyone know where I can get a sword?”

A dozen hands appear from every angle offering her a weapon.

Writer Lady accepts a sword that feels comfortable in her hand. “Will someone show me how to use this properly?”

Captain Ozar, Lady Gray’s head of command emerges from the crowd. “I’m free to assist. What would you like to learn?”

A smile crosses her lips. “Captain Ozar, good to see you.”

“Good to see you Writer Lady. What do you want to learn?” He repeats.

“How to kick some ass.” She responds.

Laughter rings through the group of ogres that has come to see who their captain is talking to.

“That won’t be difficult.” TP giggles.

“We all do have a bit of soft spot for you.” Captain Ozar admits.

The ogres nod in agreement.

“Can you teach me enough to knock Tinkletoes on his butt?”

“I can do that. Let’s start at the beginning. The first thing you need to learn is how to address your opponent.”

TP rolls his eyes and waves a hand over his shoulder. The uniform of the ogre standing behind him is replaced with a dress. It’s white and falls to the ogre’s knee. The address on the dress belongs to Tinkletoes. The stamp is depicts the ruler of the Graylands, the feline, Lady Gray.

“That’s not what the captain meant TP. Give the officer back his clothes.”

TP waves a hand and the neatly folded uniform appears in the ogre’s outstretched hands.

“I suppose that’s the best I’m going to get from you while we’re in Faerie.”

“You’d better believe it Toots.” The faerie says with a tip of the brown fedora that has appeared on his head and a wink.

Writer Lady attempts a lunge and realizes she already needs help. She looks at TP. “Wardrobe.”

The faerie taps her shoulder and the dress, the jewelry and the bright orange hair disappears. They are replaced with brightly colored athletic wear covered in images of tiny flowers, bubbles and pixies, along with a pair of shoes and gloves.

Making a second attempt, Writer Lady extends her right leg and leans into a lunge as she stretches out her arm and holds up her weapon.

“Very good for someone fighting in your dimension.” Captain Ozar says.

“We don’t do that here Silly Human.” TP says.

Ignoring TP, Writer Lady returns to a standing position. “Show me what to do.”

“First, keep in mind you are in Faerie. When fighting using a sword neither the weight of the sword nor the size of your opponent determines who will be the winner.”

“It depends on how much skill you have.” Writer Lady says.

The captain shakes his head. “The determining factor is only one thing, the limit of one’s imagination.”

“Oh.” Writer Lady lowers her sword.

“Not all creatures of Faerie use their imagination. Living in a magical place like Faerie many feel no need to imagine anything else.”

"You on the other hand," Captain Ozar takes a step stopping next to Writer Lady’s ear and whispers, “I think you’ll find that you’re what you humans would call a heavy weight.”

A small smile emerges moments before she shakes her head. “It’s been a tough year, don’t be too sure.”

“Your muscles may be weak but they’re still there. As they say on your world, it’s just like riding a bike. Observe.” Captain Ozar as he takes up a sword and nods to another ogre in the crowd. The ogre returns the nod and approaches raising his own weapon.

The two blades meet.

“The trick is to imagine yourself winning.” He continues. “Your clothes and skin are stronger than any armor. No strike can penetrate them.” Captain Ozar lets his opponent’s blade touch his shoulder—the fabric of the captain’s coat remains intact. He reaches out and hits the other ogre’s finger with his blade which momentarily glows brightly. A number one appears in the air to the side of them in the same bright green color. He gives his opponent a nod and steps back. “Your turn.” Captain Ozar says looking at Writer Lady.

“Will I hurt him?”

“Nothing but his pride.”

TP appears at Writer Lady’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be like shooting fish in a barrel.”

Writer Lady looks at TP for a few beats before repeating, “Fish in a barrel.”

“The imagination is strong with this one.” The faerie says looking at the ogre as Writer Lady raises her sword.

The ogre swallows nervously as he approaches. He raises his sword, lowering it across her upper arm a narrow strip of bright yellow glows where the sword is touching her. A bright yellow one appears in the air.

Captain Ozar approaches, “Remember your body is made from impenetrable armor. No one can defeat you.” He looks at the ogre. “Again.”

The ogre strikes a second time. Writer Lady steps out of the way immediately countering with a strike to the ogre’s torso. A deep green mark glows where her sword crossed the ogre’s skin. The green side appears showing Writer Lady has scored ten points.

“I told you, you’re a natural.” Captain Ozar looks at the crowd surrounding them. “Who’s next?”

A second ogre approaches, one that appears to be twice the size of the first ogre. He looks at Writer Lady with a concentrated glare, grunting as he approaches.

Writer Lady returns the glare and grunts back. Taking a defensive stance, she blocks his first attempt. As her imagination builds, fending off the ogre off takes less and less effort. Writer Lady notices the ogre looking at Captain Ozar seconds before he says, “Can I get a little help here?”

“Looking for volunteers.” Captain Ozar calls to the group on onlookers.

Five more ogres step forward. Writer Lady finds herself surrounded.

If anyone could use a little help...crosses Writer Lady’s mind.

Writer Lady's Day Off Part 2

 

“Kids don’t always understand what they’re wishing for,” she says as she dances up to a fireplace mantel across the room from where she started.

“They know a lot about fun.”

“Not everything.” Writer Lady counters. “Besides your idea of what’s fun changes as you do.” She says as she does the splits. She comments, “That’s going to hurt tomorrow,” as she returns to a standing position. “Can we do something else now?”

The lights dim and a faster song begins playing in the background as Writer Lady finishes wrapping the ball of her foot with some kind of tape. She’s dressed in black from the top of her dance wear to her leg warmers except for her tights which are brightly colored and have freakishly big flowers on them. TP is dressed in jeans and a tank. The faerie is sitting behind a TP sized synthesizer. A brown pit bull terrier looks at Writer Lady adoringly from across the…

“Warehouse? What are we doing in a warehouse?”

“Apartment. It’s a warehouse apartment Sweetie.” Carp’s voice is heard coming from somewhere. “It was stylish and hip for the time. Just close your eyes, listen to the music and…”

“Go away!” TP calls out. “TP’s in charge today!”

“Lord help us all.” Carp says, slamming a magical door as he leaves.

“Maniac” by Michael Sembello begins playing.

Just a steel town girl on a Saturday night…TP sings freakishly well.

Writer Lady begins having her own personal Flashdance moment. “I always wished I could dance like this. I feel so...limber.” Sweat begins raining on arms and shoulders. Hair sticks to her forehead. “Where did all this curly brown hair come from?”

TP ignores her and keeps playing.

She keeps dancing. Her body won’t stop moving. She’s tried stopping seriously. It’s just not working.

The music fades as the song comes to an end.

“Fun?” TP asks.

“Fun.” Writer Lady looks at the faerie, “Is my butt supposed to be this sore?” She looks at TP. “I need a break.” Writer Lady feels herself being pulled to yet another location. She lands in a meadow full of wildflowers. Tall green grass is interspersed with a sea of vibrant reds, yellows purples and blues. She’s now wearing a day dress reminiscent of medieval times. A white gown with a skirt that falls just above her bare ankles with flowing sleeves. An embroidered corset and wreath of flowers with ribbons hanging down her back completes the ensemble.

Better.

She looks at her companions. A white unicorn, a black bear and a mountain lion. An owl rides along on the mountain lion’s back. TP appears fluttering next to her shoulder.

“This is boring, what’s next?” He asks.

“It’s been fun so far. But I need a little bit of time. I just got here, let me savor the moment.”

“TP needs something to do,” the faerie announces fluttering back and forth busily.

“How far are we from a town or a village?” Writer Lady says.

He shrugs.

“Finding out would give you something to do.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Why not?”

“You told me to. It’s not fun anymore.”

“I’m sorry about that TP, what would be fun for you?”

“Roasting giant marshmallow men. Making lots of smores!”

Writer Lady shakes her head.

“TP going to find something to do.”

“Okay. You do that.” Writer Lady looks at her companions and continues her walk wondering how she got so lucky.

“This walking through a meadow stuff is fun but is this all we’re going to do? TP said there’d be dragons and stuff,” comes from the black bear’s general vicinity.

“Really?” Writer Lady asks.

“Yeah and panthers. I kinda got a thing for panthers.” The mountain lion comments.

“Apparently one only has so much control over one’s own adventure even on a day off.”

“You can’t control everything. If you control everything it’s not an adventure,” the unicorn points out.

“I suppose.”

“What is the purpose your journey?” The tiny owl asks in his high voice.

“Fun.” Writer Lady says.

“What is fun?”

“Hmm...how to define it. Fun is doing something just for amusement. For the enjoyment of it.”

“You’re not doing something to feed yourself or to find shelter?” The bear asks.

“No.”

“Or to maintain territorial lines.” The mountain lion asks.

“No.”

“Or to gain knowledge?” The tiny owl asks.

Writer Lady shakes her head.

“To spread magic?” The unicorn asks.

“Just because it’s fun.”

“I think I should very much like to see this thing called fun.” The mountain lion says.

“You all live in Faerie, don’t you have fun all the time?”

“Don’t we have fun all the time?” The unicorn asks.

“It depends on who you are and where in Faerie you’re currently residing. Being in Faerie doesn’t always guarantee a good time.” The black bear says.

“It does help to have some new blood.” The mountain lion says. “Will you show us some of this fun?”

“I’m sure Faerie fun is a bit different than Earth fun. I’ve lost my way a bit when it comes to Earth fun.”

“Show us your idea of fun.”

Writer Lady’s cheeks turn a soft pink. “That’s the problem, I’m no sure I know what fun is anymore.”

TP appears on the unicorn’s head. The faerie sings as he dances around the creature’s horn. “Time to do something big!”

Writer Lady becomes conscious of the song that had been playing in the back of her mind. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“That’s not what your brain said. We just want to have fun!” The faerie calls.

Extremely familiar music begins to play in the background.

TP spins around. When he stops spinning he’s wearing a brightly colored strapless dress with a full skirt trimmed in gold. He has bright orange hair and is wearing heavy dangly earrings. TP flies over to Writer Lady and flutters in front of her. “Does the woman of the day want to play in the video or join the parade?”

Her brow furrows as she remembers Cyndi Lauper’s iconic video. “I don’t remember a parade. There was a conga line at one point but no parade.”

“Are you sure about that?” He asks. “Bueller.” TP says giggling.

“Bueller.” The bear repeats as if he’s trying the new word out.

“Bueller.” The tiny owl says.

“Bueller?” Writer Lady says as she recalls what TP is referring to. “No. I am not doing that.”

“It’s okay TP will make it way better.”

The opening notes of “Girls Just Want To Have Fun,” plays in the background.

A Writer Lady size dust devil appears at her feet and begins working its way up the length of her body. When it disappears she looks just like TP.

Writer Lady's Day Off Part 1

 

Writer Lady stretches in bed as she opens her eyes. Raising her arm she looks at her hand, the hilt of Excalibur rests in her palm. Unable to believe what she’s seeing she closes her eyes, when she opens them Excalibur is gone.

Writer Lady sighs and gets out of bed. Another day of job hunting lies in front of her. More time spent trying to convince a bot she has something valuable to contribute. Unfortunately for her bots don’t read fiction. After using the bathroom and brushing her teeth she looks at herself in the mirror. Today is it. Today I’m going to apply for the job that is going to be my next job. She practices her friendly and enthusiastic new employee smile. The grimace that results looks so much like she’s auditioning for a laxative commercial she gives up. Maybe the smile will have returned by tomorrow. Finding her favorite jeans and a t-shirt that reads, “I am smiling” she gets dressed and shuffles into High Command to start her day. She tenses when a pair of hands grab her shoulders – a familiar voice says “Not so fast lady.” Writer Lady turns to face Tinkletoes and says, “The coffee is already made, it’s in the pot.”

“I’m not here to ask for coffee.” The self-proclaimed mercenary says her around to face him. “You’ve been spending too much of your time trying to find a new job. You aren’t even taking the weekends off anymore are you?”

“I’m still off most of the weekend.”

“That’s not the same.” Tinkletoes counters as he guides her into the living room. “We’ve been talking and as much as we appreciate your dedication to finding new employment we all agree you need a day off, not less time job hunting or a break from skill development but a real day off.”

“No cooking.” Aunt Purdy says.

“No cleaning.” Peter, Paige, and Dylan add.

“No running to the store for my cheese puffs...or candy bars...snack cakes...fruit leather...potato chips…” Ray says. “...p..”

Tinkletoes’ hand covers Ray’s mouth, a very muffled pizza can still be heard emerging from behind the insomniac’s lips.

“No skill building.” Diomedes says.

“No job hunting.” Tinkletoes announces.

“You can only have fun.” TP giggles.

“It’s only one day Mom, we’ll be fine.” Dobby says.

The Honky-Tonk piano notes from “Old Time Rock And Roll” by Bob Seger plays in the background, ending as suddenly as it began.

“Welcome to your day off!” House calls making the windows rattle.

“That was a lot of enthusiasm.” Writer Lady observes.

“We’re kinda payin’ her.” Tinkletoes admits.

Writer Lady nods.

“Here’s your bag.” Carp says as he holds up her purse.

“Paige and I filled a tote bag with your favorite things.” Aunt Purdy says, holding the bag out.

“Thank you.”

“Coffee.” Tinkletoes holds a large go mug up with the name Bueller printed across the front of it.

Writer Lady leaves the house. The door closes behind her. She stands in her driveway wondering what to do next. After a few minutes she gets into her car setting out to spend some time at the farm.

“No workee workee!” TP’s voice comes pouring out of her stereo.

The car begins sounding like its been possessed before abruptly dying. She tries starting the car again. Nothing. Writer Lady picks up her phone to call for a mechanic.

“The car only died because of what you tried, it’ll be fine by tomorrow silly human.” TP giggles disappearing in a puff of smoke.

“I’m supposed to have a day off without being in my house or driving my car. Farm work is a great big No. If I can’t go anywhere and I can’t stay home what’s left?” she asks before resting her head against the seat and closing her eyes. The singing begins.

Come with me and you’ll be in a world of pure imagination. Take a look and you’ll see into your imagination.

Writer Lady opens her eyes. Gene Wilder sits in her passenger seat dressed as Willie Wonka. It’s not his voice that’s singing, the voice is a higher pitched giggly one that’s all to familiar.

“Very funny TP.”

Writer Lady reaches out. TP’s magic falls away as she touches Gene/Willie’s arm. A demon appears in his place.

“Did TP put you up to this?”

The demon’s eyes grow wide with fear. “Daemon wanted to help.”

“Thank you Daemon. You can go back inside the house now.”

He nods and gets out of the car. A door to the house appears next to the car shielding the demon from curious neighbors’ eyes. Daemon waves at her before disappearing inside.

“TP?!”

“Writer Lady’s angry, TP’s not coming out.”

“Writer Lady’s also stubborn. I’m not getting out of this car until we’ve had a talk.”

“Uh oh.”

“If I’m not supposed to stay home and I can’t take my car where am I supposed to go on my day off?”

“Anywhere you want.”

“I can’t use my car!”

“Walking?”

“I can’t walk anywhere that’s fun.”

“We didn’t think about that part.”

Writer Lady’s face has not yet softened. “It’s time to think about it!”

“TP might be able to help. What is fun for Writer Lady?”

She lowers her head and sighs before responding, “I really don’t know anymore. I never relax enough to find out. In order to have fun a lot of things in my world would have to change.”

Want to change the world...there’s nothing to it, plays through Writer Lady’s car speakers.

“If only it were that simple.”

TP appears and sits down on the dash of her car. He’s dressed up like Willy Wonka. “It could be,” the faerie says. “TP knows a game. Writer Lady remembers having fun. Whatever pops into Writer Lady’s head is what we’ll do now.”

“Whatever pops into my head...that sounds familiar. I saw that in a movie once and in that movie there was a giant marshmallow man.” She looks at TP. “There is no way I’m fighting a giant marshmallow man and if I was I wouldn’t be doing it here.”

“Okey dokey.” TP says. “Let’s go!”

There are two flashes of light as they disappear leaving Writer Lady’s car empty. Writer Lady opens her eyes and takes in her surroundings. Feeling cold she looks down and sees a pair of white crew socks on her feet. She’s wearing a pair of white dance shorts and tank top under a white dress shirt with burgundy pin striping and a turned up collar. She looks down and behind as far as she can to confirm her backside is appropriately covered. The opening of a well known song rings out on the piano as she slides across a wooden floor stopping to face and empty living room. TP follows in the exact same outfit.

“How did this happen?” She asks as she begins lip syncing to “Old Time Rock And Roll” by Bob Seger.

“Sometime when you were a kid you thought doing this would be fun.” TP says.