Wednesday, March 30

part FIVE of Fairy Infestation story.

So we're standing off all aggressive-stlye. Me on one side of Fairy Land, Bermuda and Steve on the other. The desk falls past me to my left in its endless loop, the chair following soon after. Mr. Happy Puppet Head watches impatiently a little ways away.

"Oh, dammit!" says Steve, looking at his wrist where a watch could be but isn't. "We're missing our show." They reach out over the ledge and grab the desk. As it hangs over the edge of Blue Oblivion, they open the biggest drawer and pull out a small television set, then let the desk continue it's fall. They plug the TV into Fairy Land and turn it on to Mr. Happy Puppet Head's soap opera.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head releases his tension in one large exhalation of breath. "Well all right," he says and settles in next to Bermuda and Steve.

As fake people argue about fake things on the TV, I watch as the desk falls past me again and again. I reach out and grab one of the papers as it flutters by. It's what Steve had been working so frantically on just a few minutes ago. Proving Algebra wrong.

"6 + 5 = NO." says the paper. "6 + 8 = NO. 8 + 9 = NO. 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 = NO." And on and on.

How do I win back Fairy Land for the Fairies? Bermuda and Steve are so big and naked.

A magic portal opens in front of me. A fog of Fairies stare back at me from my basement.

"What's going on?" asks one of the Fairies. "Why are you sitting? Destroy them. Like you killed so many of us and our loved ones. You're a monster. Go."

"I am not," I say. "That was an accident. And look how big they are. I can't stomp them."

"That's why we gave you Fairy Powers, moron," another one says. "Go blast them."

"Maybe you guys should look for a new homeland. This place is kind of small, anyways."

They look at me with their Serious Fairy Faces and point with their Serious Fairy Fingers at Bermuda and Steve.

"Fine, but let them finish their show." I don't want Mr. Happy Puppet Head even more mad at me. The Fairies nod their Serious Fairy Heads and close the Portal.

After what seems like forever, their show ends. Mr. Happy Puppet Head bobbles over. "Hey, can we go?" Bermuda and Steve are held with rapt attention to the TV. "I don't like this show."

I stand up. As I do, I notice that Fairy Land wobbles a little. I bounce up and down and Fairy Land bounes up and down, too. Like on a pivot.

"Hey, jerkface!" yells Steve. "Knock it off."

I don't knock it off. Not at all. I jump up really high and come down on the edge of Fairy Land, flipping it completely over. Me, Bermuda, and Steve all go spinning off the small patch of Land, waving our arms and kicking wildly. Mr. Happy Puppet Head steps a ways back just in time for the TV to not smash into him.

I gesture and open a Magic Portal for Bermuda and Steve to fall into. But somehow they miss it. I open up another while passing the still spinning Fairy Land.

More and more Magic Portals. Everywhere to everywhere. The Arctic, beaches, mountains, college campuses, but somehow they manage to wiggle and writhe out of the way. The TV falls through into some prehistoric era, and the chair falls into a taping of a Documentary Movie in China.

"You jerkface!" they yell at me. "Look what you did to our office!"

I look and fall into a Magic Portal, and then face down onto a Grocery Store floor.

"This milk had a less price in the display case," the old lady tells the clerk.

"I'll do a check price on it," says the clerk.

I Magic Portal my way back to Fairy Land where Bermuda and Steve have managed to grab onto the spinning piece of Land and hold on tight. A Portal going to a loud Rock Concert sits directly below them.

As I fall past, I gesture at Fairy Land and turn it into a gummy worm. Sour. Bermuda and Steve fall into the Portal.

I close all the portals.

Now the only way I can tell I'm falling is from the wind. And Mr. Happy Puppet Head. I watch him eat the sour gummy worm as I fall past.

I open a Portal to our bedroom and fall into my bed. I crawl under the covers and wrap myself into a tight, Fiary-Proof cocoon. After a long time, I fall asleep.

Monday, March 28

Part FOUR of the Fairy Infestation story

When we pass through the Magic Fairy Portal, Bermuda and Steve are working furiously at the desk. Fairy Land is very small, with barely enough room for anything.

"What are you doing here? This is our office." says Bermuda.

"We have fairies in our basement."

"Hey guys, what's up?" asks Mr. Happy Puppet Head.

"Not much..." says Bermuda. "Just proving Algebra wrong!"

"Cool," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head as he floats off to explore the Blue Oblivion surrounding Fairy Land.

"Bermuda. Steve," I say when I finally get my footing. "We need to talk. All the Fairies you expelled from Fairy Land are now living in my basement and I'm going to have to do laundry eventually, and my high school yearbooks are down there, too."

"Tell him come back later," says steve.

"Come back later!" says Bermuda. "We're proving algebra wrong! What will the schools do? Nothing! There's nothing they can do!"

Mr. Happy Puppet Head bobbles up from the opposite direction he left in. "Huh..." He says. "Whoa, I gotta get back. My show's about to be on."

He's right. His show is about to be on. To expidite things I turn Steve's pen into a gum drop with Fairy Power.

Both Bermuda and Steve look at their once-pen in shock. Steve looks up at me with eyes full of anger. He slowly puts the gumdrop into his mouth and swallows it whole. "I'm sorry, sir," he says. "I'm going to have to ask you to come back later." To make sure I understand, he shoves his desk towards me, knocking me off Fairy Land.

I fall through the Blue Nothing for a moment before I pass Fairy Land. I see Steve take out another pen from a drawer before continuing to fall through the Blue.

I pass Fairy Land again.

And again.

And again.

And again. Falling isn't so bad when you don't really go anywhere.

Below me I see Fairy Land approaching quickly. Mr. Happy Puppet Head pushes on the tiny piece of Land in my direction, just enough for me to catch hold and pull myself up. "Quit fucking around," he tells me. "I have to get back right now or I'll miss it. I can't miss it."

"I'm trying," i tell him. "I just gotta--"

"Just open the Magic Portal, come on."

"I-- I just," I watch as Bermuda and Steve scribble away, now and then gesturing triumphantly before going back to their sheets of paper. "We wouldn't even be here if you hadn't left your dollhouse and toy ponies out for the Fairies to find!"

"Hey! what-- I don't, dude..." he bobbles up and whispers in my ear, "Not in front of the guys. Come on."

"Okay, now I'm so serious," says Steve as they stand up from their chair, toppling it over backwards. "You're disturbing us in our private office." They push the desk over the edge, just as the chair finishes its loop and falls past us with a whoosh. "So leave."

"You leave," I tell them.

"No. You." Steve says.

"I will. Just after you." The desk falls past to my left. A moment later the chair whooshes past behind the large, nude, blue, two-headed monster in front of me.

So now what we've got is a stand-off.

Friday, March 25

Part THREE of Fairy Infestation story

I'm dreaming. I know I'm dreaming so I start flying around in circles. Flying is lots of fun and everything is great. Then I notice there's a Fairy flying next to me, beating her little wings hard to keep up with me. This must be another nightmare where I squish lots of Fairies. Either that or soon I'll turn into a Fairy and a giant Midnight Mailman will squish me.

I fly real fast to get away but they're fast, too. I fly up into space and hide in a space station. But they follow. Some friends from high school are on the space station, and they tell me to hide in a closet and that they'll distract the Fairies.

"Thank you so much," I tell them.

"Spelling for the marshes," they tell me in unison. "Telescope." For some reason this not only makes perfect sense to me, but it affects me on a deep Emotional Level. I want to hug them and tell them they're my best friends, but then the Fairies come around the corner and I jump in the closet.

"Don't be scared," the Fairies are in the closet with me. "You can't hurt us in the dream, and we can't hurt you."

There are three of them, so I punch one and it explodes in green all over my fist. "Okay, so maybe don't do that again," they tell me, backing up a little. "We have someting important to talk about."

"I don't care about important, just the Marsh," I tell them as I punch and explode another one. "Telescope."

"Listen! We can't leave your basement until Fairy Land is Freed!" the last one yells.

"Fairy Land?"

"It's where we live when we don't live in your basement," she explains. "It's been taken over and we need someone to expell the invaders from our land."

"Okay, where is it?"


"Where's Fairy Land so I can expell the bad guys so I can do my laundry ever again."

"There's a Magic Portal we can open for you. So you'll do it?" she asks.

"Sure," I start to jump up and down because now we're on the Moon and I don't have so much gravity.

The Fairy points her wand at me and makes me all shimmery for a second. "Now you have Magic Fairy Powers to defeat the Villains. Use it wisely."

And I wake up. The first thing I do is accidentally turn my alarm clock into a candy cane, my boots into gummy worms, and my underwear into a peanut butter cookie.

But I soon get a hang of it and begin to use it more wisely.

Thursday, March 24

Part TWO of the Fairy Infestation story.

With the basement door nailed shut, there's no way I'll have to see those Faries again. I can't do my laundry or look at my high school yearbooks ever again, but at least I won't have any more accidental mass murder on my hands.

"Wait," I ask Mr. Happy Puppet Head. "Who's Barbara?"

He doesn't answer, just continues staring at the melodrama unfolding on the television set before us.

"Wait, who's that? Is that her kid or her boyfriend?"

He turns up the volume to drown out my questions. I hate soap operas when I don't know what's going on, but I'm determined to get this one. It's Mr. Happy Puppet Head's new favorite and we've needed something to bond over for a while now. He's also been surly ever since I blamed him for the Infestation. But it is his fault.

I try to watch the show but it's so boring not knowing who anyone is or why they're crying or anything. My mind wanders and I look out the window. Next to the window is an air vent, which falls to the floor. From out of the hole in the wall flitter two cautious Faries. I watch them, not wanting to move a muscle.

"Mr. Happy Puppet Head..." But he can't hear me over some attractive couple arguing about something. The two Faries slowly make their way towards us on the couch, whispering to themselves and pointing in our direction.

They flitter right up close to us and stop only a few feet in front of my face. "Go away," I tell them. I'm too scared to say or do anything else. Mr. Happy Puppet Head notices them with his half-lidded gaze, and returns his attention to the show.

The Faries whisper to themselves. They nod in aggreement and wave their wands aggressively at my face. My goggles and bowtie both turn into purple Gum Drops.

As slowly as I possibly can, and without turning my head, I reach out to the end table next to the couch. The Faries scream and hide behind the TV. From the drawer I pull out an extra pair of goggles and a bowtie and ever so slowly put them on. Tiny faces watch me from behind an old man seducing a young woman in a nurse uniform.

The three of us stare at each other for a long time. The soap opera ends and Mr. Happy Puppet Head turns off the TV. He leaves the room and turns the lights off behind him.

I can see their little glowing eyes blink at me in the dark. "What do you want?" I ask, my voice a hushed whisper.

They scream again, wave their wands crazily at me, and fly back into the vent in the wall.

When I'm absoluetly sure they're gone, I reach for the lamp to turn on the light. I find that it's been turned into a gum drop, the color of which can't be determined since there's no light.

And the only replacement lamp is in the basement.

So I decide to fall asleep right where I'm sitting. It seems lately any action I take either estranges friends, kills innocent creatures, or strikes fear into the hearts of those lucky enough to survive. So forget lamps.

Wednesday, March 23

"Hey," says the Fairy. "Where do you keep your filtered water?"

"Um," I tell him. "We just drink from the tap."

"Oh. Do you have any bottled water? Because we can't really drink from the tap. Something about the chlorine or something."

"No," I tell him. "We just drink from the tap."

The Fairy nods his little head and flaps delicately away. I watch as he goes straight to the basement door and down the staircase.

"Mr. Happy Puppet Head!" I yell.

"Yeah?" he bobbles in from the other room. "What's up?" He keeps the back of his head to me as he watches the television in the other room.

"I think we have Fairies again."

"Yeah?" He takes a small sip from his beer.

"Pretty sure. In the basement."

He doesn't answer, just stares at the TV.

"I thought I told you to pick up after yourself down there." I tap my foot. "I don't know if I can go through another infestation. I say, pick up after yourself, and you say 'Okay, I'll do it.' But then you don't. You know how I feel about this."

"Fine, I'll do it."

"Right now?"


The little Fairy taps me on my shoulder. "Hey, I got you some cash. Could you go out and buy us a couple bottles of that Spring Water. We're really thirsty."

"How about right now, Mr. Happy Puppet Head?" I'm tap my foot harder.

"Can't I even watch TV?" Mr. Happy Puppet Head gulps down the last of his beer and throws the can against the wall. He turns and bobbles heavily down into the basement.

It's dark down there, except for the hundreds of tiny Fairy Lights floating like a fog. It's so beautiful for a moment I forget why I was so upset about them. They make the most beautiful little songs just by flapping around. I get halfway down the stairs before I step on one. They all scream in horror and rush towards their fellow Fairy to see if they can help, but with them so dense all around me, I can't help but squish more with every move I make. With each gorry death comes more wailing, more sorrow.

Glowing green blood coats my boots, cape, everything. "Mr. Happy Puppet Head..." He bobbles easily through, barely disturbing anything as he makes his way accross the basement. I turn my head too fast and one splatters all over my goggles. I try to wipe it off, but it's too greasy, and the act of wiping only kills more of them. The screaming of these creatures pierces the deepest part of my being, and it only rises in pitch as more and more of them are slaughtered by my inability to not kill.

I run. Upstairs. Straight for the bathroom into the tub.

I lie there panting as the water from the shower washes over me, oily green spiraling down the drain. I hear Mr. Happy Puppet Head drop his things in the hallway outside the bathroom. He makes a lot of noise so I'll know he's mad.

I notice a Fairy hanging from the toe of my boot. He waves his magic wand at the water droplets, turning them into gum drops. His lower half is completely crushed, and with his last breath he waves his wand, making an ugly little brownish gum drop, and dies.

I remember being mad once, but I can't feel my emotions anymore.

Friday, March 18

"No matter what awful, terrible things you do children," says Roboctopus. "And no matter how wrecklessly you endanger both the property and lives of those around you, I will always love you. Always."

"But..." twiddles Potato. "We didn't dig that hole in the highway. You did that."

"Don't worry about a thing. Everything will be all right. Forever. Always," Roboctopus tells them.

"But..." mumbles Patti. "What about all those bounty hunters hired by the parents of the sexy teenagers who died in those Highway Death Traps we made? They promised to come over in tenty minutes to murder us and our families?"

"Don't worry," Roboctopus croons. "I'll take care of it. Don't even think or anything."

Potato and Patti are scared. Real scared, but they take comfort in their friend Roboctopus. He's usually a lot of fun, and maybe if they see this through, they'll live to have more fun later.

Tuesday, March 15

You can't stop thinking about the time you spent in that public bathroom. Green and white with dripping water and cold tile. Strange Human Men stomping in and out, doing their strange odorous business before stomping back out again.

You loved it so.

There was a small boy who would bring you Grain. He'd sit in the stall--the farthest one down--and cup his hands out to you. It was the most delicious thing you had ever eaten, and that boy was the best friend you ever had.

It was perfect until that awful Janitor Woman went to war with your restroom occupancy. She danced around for a week, waving her arms over her head, trying to catch you with her leathery fingers, until finally throwing a towel over you, plunging you into darkness and expelling you forever from your haven.

Even now, two years later, you perch on a branch overlooking the men's room you so desire. A sign hangs from the door, "Out of Order." It's been there since you left. The doors have been locked and no one has gone in or out.

They aren't going to open the door ever again. They've given up.

But you never will.

Thursday, March 10

"I live in a rectangle house only slightly larger than my total body mass," says Mansard. "I fit snug and cozy."

"Does it have a dishwasher?" asks Concord. It can be hard to understand Concord sometimes since instead of a mouth he has large tusks to speak with.

"What?" asks Phraseberry. He has never understood a word Concord has ever said to him.

"Dishwasher," says Concord. "I was wondering if his place has a dishwasher."

"Oh," Phraseberry says as he nods his head. All he heard was some mumbling.

"No dishes or washers or anything," answers Mansard. "The whole place is only slightly larger than my entire body mass. I don't even have room to itch my face when it itches. Which it always does."

"That's the best idea Ever!" shouts Phraseberry as he grabs his friends and hugs them tightly to his slippery chest. "We can be roomates!"

Concord says, "I like the apartment I already have."

"Yeah! We can all move into my Dank Home-Hole," Phraseberry hugs them tighter. "We're already best friends, so there's no problem there. And we'll save a ton on rent."

The large tentacled monster drags them both back to his place, which is dark and musty and smells like carcass. He sits Concord on a small rock and places Mansard in a small shelf dug into the rock wall. "See? Nice and cozy."

He lights a fire in the fire pit, which is far too hot for such delicate roomates as Phraseberry now has, and they both begin to sweat profusely.

"Can you turn the fire down?" asks Concord, sweat dripping down his tusks like a little faucet.

"No, I don't think we'll ever fight ever about anything," says Phraseberry as he shuffles his collection of rocks and twigs around in circles. "Good roomates never fight. We'll be so happy."

Forty-seven hours later when Phraseberry finally collapses from exhaustion, Concord and Mansard have words with each other.

"I don't like living with Phraseberry very much," says Mansard. "My old home had sligthly more room than my body mass. I could scratch my face when it itched, which it always does. In this square-shaped shelf, I have no room at all."

"And I'm far too hot, and have shriveled up into a tiny tusked-raisin-friend," which is true.

"What are we going to do?"

"Make the best of it?" Concord tries to do a Shrivel Dance, but only shrivles.

"Oh," Mansard tries to scratch his face with his face, but finds it to be completely impossible. "Okay. We'll make the best of it."

Which is what they do.

Eventually Phraseberry finds a better hole to live in, and moves out. The new roomate, a very famous actress/singer/fashion designer, is much nicer, and feeds Concord and Mansard every now and then. Even more eventually later, a new landlord wishes to turn the hole into some condos, so Mansard and Concord are evicted. They get jobs with a traveling Deli, write sonnets about sliced meat, and statues in their honor are errected in parks accross the world while they are still alive.

Friday, March 4

Spirit isn't a bad guy, his eyes just get all spiraly sometimes and then he can't help but hurt people.

They stay that way for days at a time, spiraling around and around, allowing him no time to eat or sleep. His manic spree of trippings, tauntings, face-slappings, pinching, and all-around brutality are relentless. No one is safe, not your sexy teenagers, not your adorable children, not your middle-tax bracket parents, nobody.

Since his eyes started doing their crazy spirals, Spirit has stolen 152 bicycles, smashed 452 rented video tapes, exposed to direct sunlight 4,032 rolls of undeveloped vacation photographs, and 100,862 phone calls to his elderly parents have gone unanswered.

"Where's your math book now?" he yells at the 2nd grader.

"In your hand," she points up at his hand waving her math book around.

"What?" he cups a hand to his ear. "I can't hear you."

"It's right there in your hand," she says a little louder.

"Where?" and he throws the book off the bridge into the canyon. "I don't know where your math book is, but I think you'd better forget about doing your homework ever again, huh 2nd grader? Get ready for some detention or bad grades, yeah?"

She gets mad, kicks his big toe. He howls in pain and pulls on her pig tail. She scratches at his wrist. He shoves her back and runs away.

Once his eyes return to their nomal stasis, Spirit curls up in his bed and cries. His insides are cold and twisted from all this eye-spiral business, but he doesn't know how to control it. He thinks maybe he should move to the Arctic where he can't hurt anyone anymore, but when he's mean and can't help it, when he's right there in the pain-causing moment, he loves it.

And at least he's got that to look forward to.

Thursday, March 3

Today I woke up different than I normally do. Now I have glowing goat hands, am striped like a candy cane, and my feet are two-dimensional.

I say, "Hey Mr. Happy Puppet Head, what's going on?"

But he doesn't say much. He woke up with all of his intelligence gone.

So a day like this calls for going to the park and hanging out. All the children are awed by my glowing hands. They say, "The Midnight Mailman, we didn't know you had hands like those!" And I say, "Check it out!" and with my other-dimensional feet I step inbetween their Thoughts.

I find that I can leave a pretty good burn mark on the kids' skin with the magic glowing hands, kind of like a cowboy brand on a steer, so the kids all clamor to get me to sign their flesh. Most want it on their foreheads, but many want it on their forearms.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head says, "I miss knowing things..." So we try to teach him the alphabet again, but he gets distracted and eats a pinecone.

We get bored after a while and go home to watch television. Now we like to watch the news, and commercials with Lawyers make Mr. Happy Puppet Head laugh.

Wednesday, March 2