A Glimpse at How Things Work

Sometimes a frog is just a frog. And sometimes a prince is just a prince.
Nine times out of ten the frog is the most preferable choice.

For one thing, they make great, if somewhat damp, paper weights. For another, what you see is what you get. Princes, of course, come in many different varieties, but usually are along the lines of golden haired he-men that can take out a dragon before breakfast without really thinking about it. That is, if they can think. I rather suspect they devote much more of their attention to what is decorating their head rather than what’s in it. But they are nothing compared to the Princess Hopefuls.

Young maids that aspire to the crown (or nobility of some sort) are generally very pretty and naturally compliant. Until they spot someone sporting wings and a wand, that is. Then they begin demanding things. Impossibly expensive things like gorgeous ball gowns and animal servants–all with the aim of catching a prince. As if anyone in their right mind would want someone who took a good look at their gown and experienced Love at First Sight.

Where’s the meeting of hearts and minds? Believe me, people are on their best behaviors when they’re dancing in front of a lot a people in the arms of their potential One True Love. Reality has a nasty way of sinking in once you clear the dance floor. But that’s no longer my problem as the contract clearly states that my servitude to Deserving Young Ladies of Quality/ Damsels in Distress ends the second their I do’s are cleared with a kiss.

If things get difficult on the prince securing side of things, big towers without doors, fire breathing dragons, and giants are very good inducements. Especially if the poor thing’s complexion isn’t all roses and ivory, if her teeth aren’t straight and sparkling, or if she squints. Fortunately, Princes tend to see past all of those superficial things like physical features in the Glory of the Battle. The important thing is to get the wedding on while his eyes are still bedazzled with his own prowess with the sword (or ladder).

To understand my plight, you must first understand a few points in How Things Work. To do that, we must go back to the beginning.

Fairy Godmothers are very rare creatures because the events surrounding their births happen to be rare as well. It must be a night of the Full Moon when the sky is filled with star dust. A child’s first wish, a baby’s first sigh, the song of a nightingale, a smattering of True Love’s First Kiss, and a perfect rose are ingredients and must occur in the right amounts.

But when they do: voila, you have a fairy godmother.

And while she is still trying to clear the star dust from her eyes, the faerie council is waiting at her elbow with a once in a lifetime contract that must be signed now. The benefits: to keep the hope of magic alive in every human heart, to help those who are less fortunate, to tip the balance of good and evil on the side of good, and to lead a fulfilling life.

What’s not to like?

So the fairy godmother signs on and begins her duties once she can see straight. By then, of course, it is too late. They never mention the long hours, that you sign on indefinitely, the fact that there is no pay (besides that warm feeling you feel inside for helping others), and the dispositions of the deserving young ladies of qualities themselves.

Nerissa–Fairy Godmother, Class of the Silver Star

 

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