Fox in the Henhouse

The judge banged her gavel, more in frustration than to bring order to the court. The charge: attempted chaos. The jury had heard from Chicken Little who alleged the sky was falling. The police claimed Fox spread the rumor subliminally on his bedtime story podcast. He then lay in wait around the corner from the henhouse, where he assaulted Little. Big Old Fox denied having done any such thing.

Little cackled, “We will all perish.”

Fox asserted she was crazy. Ugly, too.

The judge adjusted her spectacles and searched among her papers. “We have a process. I’m sure it’s here somewhere.”

Don’t Open the Door

A tragedy. They hoped to revive her. The smallest dwarf had noticed at intake that she seemed well mannered, a good example for the less socialized girls. Judging by the quality of her clothes, she’d come from a good family.

She earned her keep, but wouldn’t open the door or go outside, though she wouldn’t say why. She was the only one home when the apples came. The dwarf tried to imagine it. The urge to hide. The worry that she would disappoint them if she ignored the bell. The stab of a needle as the delivery driver injected her.

Never, Never Underestimate a Fairy

I’m not an ill humored creature. The opposite. Fairies have sweet natures. Ask anyone except Captain Hook. He and I don’t get on. And though Peter Pan and I have our differences, I believe he would tell you that I have a heart of gold. Literally, a gold heart.

This is a problem. Greedy people try to do away with me. Hook has attempted more than once with a net of electric eel and kelp, but I always slip through the holes. Unless a fairy is in a snit, she’s size flexible and current impervious. Fortunately, I’m chill as gold.

When Life Gives You Lily Pads…

It was Aaron’s first Frogs to Princes convention. He’d found the event in an advertisement in the Pond Courier. Lectures ranged from “Cursed Avoidance” to “Sounding Suave With a Frog in Your Throat.” He needed a laugh. He’d been desolate since his fairy godmother had been unable to reverse the spell that turned him into a frog.

The hall buzzed with the upper crust, royal accented croaks of enchanted frogs. All were princes. He started counting and quickly decided that there were more frogs than eligible princesses. A pragmatist, Aaron decided to find a lady frog and start a family.

Earthly Delights

Circe daydreamed under an oak tree that grew on a cliff overlooking the ocean. Her pet pig, Ulysses, dug truffles while she watched the sunset roll in. The truffles smelled woody, fresh, and clean. She felt wise when she nibbled them, almost as if she’d lived on the island for centuries.

She had thought she might live forever, cloistered from humankind. Young, tech rich, cranky, and prone to fits of passionate revenge, solitude suited her until she longed for company. Her TikTok video advertising island paradise dream homes went viral. Ulysses, in a straw hat, held an open house sign.

April Fool

He was up for mischief. A pint up. He twigged a flash of green, nothing but a fairy glimmer out from the woods at break of dawn. Then again, he reckoned ‘twas twilight. That might serve the little people better, twilight when shadows run deep, twilight when souls slip between worlds and mischief is abroad.

That second pint of ale overcome him. He could do anything now. Lift the world on his shoulders and take it for a ride. Find his true love. She’d encouraged him, green eyes, there on the barstool. But was it real, or was it blarney?

Smoking on a Wet Evening

You know the way it rains at night after the dogs been out. After everybody settles near the fireplace, shoes kicked off, feet warming. That kind of night when, like as not, a banshee’ll slip in through the cracks in the ceiling and make herself at home.

Don’t disturb her. She’ll get loud, then. Nobody dies if she stays calm. Don’t be alarmed when she squats, knees up around her head, haunches down on the floor. Offer her a pipe. The one you’re smoking. It’s likely why she came. After a heavy drag, she’ll nod and disappear up the chimney.

Cash for Teeth

“Guess what the going rate for teeth is,” Marjorie said.

“Uh, three dollars.” Angie thought that was an outrageous sum. She’d once got a quarter for a wisdom tooth from a boyfriend. A joke. The Tooth Fairy gave her a dime for each.

“Six and change.” Gotcha, her grin said.

“Oh, c’mon.” Angie thought Marjorie exaggerated to get attention.

But later, Angie ran across an item in News of the Weird. Six was the average. Some kids got a Benjamin for each tooth. She said to her mother, “You ripped me off.” Then she told her how.

Mom laughed. “Inflation.”

Dinosaurs

The ankylosaurus strapped on his helmet and hopped on his bike. His tail swung from side to side, balancing him. He was about to become a fossil, though he had no idea that the asteroid would strike that afternoon. No one did. They were all worried about T-Rex. Terrified, in fact. Fear, uncertainty and doubt ruled.

Before Rex, it was something else. And something else. Something else to distract them. They reacted. They dodged to the left, to the right. They ducked and wove. Eventually, distractions took their toll.

Ankylosaurus felt himself wobble. He steered hard to the center.

Tiny Hands

The others dinosaurs laughed behind his back but not to his jaw dominated face. It was the jaw they avoided when T-Rex came after them. His hands were small, arms too short to reach, but he had a knack for swinging his head in a death arc while his mouth spewed rot. Avoid the rot, avoid the hands, run like hell. It’s a Hobbesian world.

It doesn’t help to run. Nor will a strongman, a dinosaur like T-Rex, solve the problem. Given the chance, dear Hobbes, a dictator will make life “nasty, brutish, and short,” for the rest of us.

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