Another Group Participation Fairy Tale
Entry posted by malign
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Again, I would like to try an experiment in group authorship. Anyone is welcome to comment, adding another section (paragraph or more) to this story. It's a fairy tale based on my Fairy Godfather series, and I have provided the title and a beginning. Let's see where it goes!
{I started a new story, not because I've given up on the previous group participation fairy tale, which is still unfinished, but to give people the option to continue that one or to start another.}
Murphy and the Oboe of Doom
Another Group Participation Fairy Tale
Murphy was in a foul mood, even compared to his usual. He had limped all the way back to his home town. Yes, limped. He had spent some time imprisoned in a small box recently (see The Washer of Londry), and his gossamer wings had got wrinkled. Until he found someone helpful with a clothes iron, he was forced to walk. And when you're only a couple of inches high, walking takes a long time.
He had stomped bad-temperedly along the forest paths. Mice and butterflies scattered at the sight of his angry face, though they did laugh at him behind his back, once he was far enough away that he couldn't catch them at it. He spent the nights camped under large leaves, or one lucky night, under a big fresh toadstool. It was a little drafty, but at least the dew didn't drip off down the back of his neck.
Finally, one day, he walked into his home town. No, it's not on any maps. Fairies always know where they are, and prefer it if no one else does. So, in a fairy town, you never find any of those large signs that somehow know that "You are here". No one likes a smart-arrow.
He had been off traveling for quite some time, as he often did. He was frequently away long enough that he would find things had changed somewhat when he returned. Still, he was completely unprepared, when he finally arrived on the street where he lived, to find that his apartment building was missing, gone, absent. In his amazement, he even forgot to be angry.
But nothing good lasts forever; he eventually recovered enough to swear vigorously, which was something he was uncommonly skilled at. Then he asked passersby what had happened, until someone told him that the building had burned down. In fact, it had burned down the day he left, because he hadn't extinguished his mail properly (see A Group-Participation Fairy Tale).
Still, there are advantages to being a magical creature. Murphy just swished his wand, and a brand new apartment building appeared on the spot. He could have created himself any home he wanted, so one might think that he felt a tiny speck of guilt about what had happened to all the other tenants. The truth, however, was that he was a creature of habit, and simply preferred to live in the same old place.
Now, judging from how many of them there are, the Universe does not seem to have any problem with apartment buildings, as such. However, that's not the same as saying that It likes to create them from scratch in the middle of the afternoon. Nor does It particularly like Murphy, regarding him (quite correctly) as a necessary evil. So, given those attitudes, it is perhaps not surprising that the Universe took this occasion to, yet again, use Murphy's own law against him.
It took him quite a while to verify that his new building had no doors. Looking up, for lack of a better direction, he muttered, "Nice one."
Then he swished the wand a few times, correcting all the little details (besides missing doors, the building had windows only in the floors, and no plumbing.) He chose an apartment (the same one as before), and furnished it to his tastes (mixture of slum and hovel, as usual). He conjured himself an iron and rubbed up against it until his wings were back to their slightly crooked normal. Then he flopped down on his bed and went to sleep.
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