Faerie Lands and Good Friends

Carp reaches out and touches the antelope's offered hoof.  Hey it's a hoof.  The closest you can get to a hand shake is a fist bump.  You think that I make this stuff up as I go along?  So, Carp reaches out and touches the antelope's offered hoof.  “Carp.”  He says introducing himself.

“The writer with the bows and arrows.”

“With terrible aim.”  Tinkletoes says, bumping his fist against Black Buck's hoof. “Tinkletoes.”  He says introducing himself.

“The Great Ninja-Zombie Slayer.”

“And the next President of the United States.”   The self-proclaimed mercenary adds.

“Yes of course.”  Black Buck agrees.

“How is your campaign going sir?”

“Well...um..things have been better.   My VP disappeared on me.”

“Monitor Man?  That's not good.”

Carp watches Tinkletoes and Black Buck as they talk.   “How did you know about us?”   Carp asks looking at the antelope.

Black shifts his gaze to Carp and smiles.  “TP visits quite frequently to share the details of his adventures among all of the silly humans.  He is popular here.   So popular that the other faeries refer to his stories as 'The Silly Human Chronicles.'  You should have seen the group of listeners during his last visit.”

“TP's always with us.”  Tinkletoes says.

“Remember, time moves differently here.  TP can come and stay for many hours but in your world only a snippet of time has passed.”

Tinkletoes nods.

“All of the stories that I've read describe it as working in the opposite manner.” Carp says.

“It is actually quite different.  Did you know that faeries can work together to not only control time but things like details of their geographical setting and the weather?”

“The weather?”

“We all have our favorite settings...our optimal climates for survival.   They just decide what they want and run with it.”

“Like one minute we are in a sunny, meadow and the next we could be in...”

“A desert.”   Black Buck says, finishing Carp's thought.

“That doesn't sound like a good idea.”

“Not for us Earth creatures it isn't.”  The antelope continues.  “One time I was visiting, it was a sunny day.  A climate much like this one.  Two faeries showed up.  They each wanted a different climate and could not agree on one.  One of them wanted a tropical climate, the other an icy tundra.”

Carp takes out a pad and pen.   He starts scribbling.

Black continues, “They threw spells around for hours until two spells converged and hit the atmosphere as one.  I found myself in an Amazonian rain forest during a hurricane.   The two faeries got out their raincoats, hats, and galoshes. The played in the storm for what seemed like an eternity.  I nearly drowned.”

“What happened when the faeries got tired of playing in the rain?”  Carp asks.

“They left.”

“What happened to the rain forest?”

“Once an environment is changed by magic it remains until another faerie or magical being comes along and changes it.   So I waited for the next transport and left.”

“Transport?”  The assassin-in-training asks.

Black Buck looks between the pair of interested faces and smiles.  “Yes.   The transports are being size bubbles that float.”

“How much?”   Tinkletoes asks.

“This is Faerie.  Money doesn't exist here.  They are free for anyone to use.  You two would have to catch yours first, place the palm of your hand on to the bubble and hold it there until your heat signature is absorbed and added to the data base.”

“Heat signatures aren't unique.”  Tinkletoes points out.

Black Buck looks at Carp and asks, “Has he been listening?”

“Everything is a little bit different in Faerie.”  Carp repeats.

Tinkletoes nods.  “Then what?”

“The bubbles are permeable.  After the bubble has accepted you then you step inside.”

“No thanks.  I'll walk.”

“You don't have ride inside.”  Black Buck offers.  “You could just hop on.”

“Hop on?”   Tinkletoes asks, jaw clenching.

“Sit on top.”   The antelope explains.

Carp shakes his head,  “Tinkletoes doesn't ride around inside giant bubbles or on top of them.”

“Real Men Don't.”   Tinkletoes announces.

Black Buck looks at Carp and finishes sharing the details.   “Transports come through based on the number of souls counted.  They come through this meadow twice a day.  Remember, they never use the same route.”

“How do these transports know where to go?”  Carp asks, pen poised and ready for more.

“They can hear lost souls calling out to them.”

“Help!”

Tinkletoes turns his head listening for the calls origin.   “What the...”

“HELP!”

The group looks to the west and finds a family of platypuses calling out and waving. “HELP!”

“See.”  Black Buck says, nodding towards the horizon.

Four bubbles, one for each puss, comes floating over meadow grasses and stops. The group watches as each platypus takes their place in or on his or her personal bubble.

“Look Mom.  I'm riding on top.”  A smaller platypus calls out.

“Not today.  Your father is in a hurry.  Get inside.”

“Mo-om.”

“Don't argue with your mother.”  The largest platypus calls out.

“O-kay.”   The young platypus slides down the outside of his bubble and climbs inside.

The largest platypus calls out, “Pixie River.  Step on it!”

The bubbles take off, whizzing over the men's heads and the antelope's horns as they pass.

“Did you find anything?”  Monitor Man asks, stopping behind Writer Lady.

“Shhh.”

“Have you noticed how much you have been shushing me lately?”  He asks.

“Shhh.”

“No.  I didn't think so.  Do you remember that time that I came to visit and you hung my every word, laughed, smiled, and offered me pie?  I miss those days.”

“You also left, shacked up with Incredibly Hot Woman, then returned only to drag me into a war with Ninja-Zombies since then.”

“It was a slight disagreement.”

Writer Lady turns and looks at Monitor Man.

“An inter-dimensional incident?”

She doesn't falter.

“You didn't have to come and get me out.”

“Leave you and forever be known as the woman that let Monitor Man become a zombie?”

“A Ninja-Zombie.”

“The end result would have been...”  Writer Lady rolls her eyes upward, holds out both arms, and starts groaning.  “No.  I would have been killed by your adoring fans within the week.”   She lowers her voice.  “Besides, you're too cute for that.  It would have been such a waste.”

“I'm cute?   Am I sexy too?”  Monitor Man asks.

“Shhh!”

“And we're back to square one.”