The Fairy Godfather On The Road
The Way of the Panda
Having closed up his cozy little cabin (he just pointed his wand at it, really, to remind the doors to stay closed; who would try to break in to a house in the Enchanted Forest, and more importantly, how would they get out alive?), the Fairy Godfather picked a direction at random, clicked his ruby heels together, and soared off over the trees.
He flew aimlessly for a while, changing direction slightly from time to time. He didn’t much fear getting lost: he knew he was somewhere in the Universe, and that was enough. He gave himself over to whatever the Universe had planned for him.
After a while, though, he did start to feel a bit hungry, and as the Universe hadn’t seen fit to send a roast beef sandwich his way, he decided to visit a village that he was passing, in the hopes that he could persuade the local innkeeper to make up for the Universe’s oversight. So, he landed on the outskirts of the village, waved the wand to give the ruby slippers the illusion of being sensible shoes (though, sadly, this didn’t actually make them more comfortable to wear), and ambled through town, idly greeting passersby.
Now, if you’ve ever been near a small country village, you know that the sight of any stranger, especially as outlandishly dressed a stranger as the Godfather happened to be, will draw a large crowd in a matter of moments. They took care not to block his path, of course, but he would have had a hard time turning aside. Luckily, it seemed as if the entire crowd had coincidentally decided on a trip to the local tavern, so the Godfather had no trouble steering his semi-circle of followers in that direction.
Stepping into the tavern out of the brightness of the day, he stopped to let his eyes adjust to the dimness inside. The place was nearly empty, the trailing crowd having stopped just outside the door in some uncertainty over whether it was safe to follow on the Godfather’s heels, and in some eagerness to discuss the new arrival without him overhearing. There was only one other customer in the place, a cloaked traveler hunched over a mug of ale at the far end of the bar.
Catching the innkeeper’s eye (because the latter had thrown him a look), he wiped it gently on his sleeve and handed it back. Popping it back in its socket, the innkeeper spoke:
“We don’t get many strangers in here, nor many stranger, neither.”
Taking a moment to figure out the meaning of this sentence, the Godfather replied, “You should get out more.”
The innkeeper, in his turn, looked slightly confused at this response, then shook his head and returned to business. “What can I get for you?”
Having described his dream sandwich in salivating detail, the Godfather took a seat at a table near the only window. Faces peered in at him briefly, then, afraid to give offense, turned away quickly. The Godfather was faintly amused at all the attention; after all, at home everyone knew who he was and generally ignored him. He briefly considered, then rejected, the idea of making faces at them to see how they would react, but he was still smiling faintly when the innkeeper brought his lunch.