~

 

“I hear tell that the Christmas fairy this year is… male,” Douglas, George’s best friend and the biggest, baddest, fairy of them all, said on a series of spluttered chuckles that stomped on George’s last nerve.

“Impossible!” Michael shook his head. He was adamant that couldn’t be the case. There had never been a male Christmas fairy, and in his mind, there never should be. “That’s the same old rubbish that they say every year to get the little male faeries to behave themselves — it’s like Santa’s naughty list, but for faeries.”

“Not as impossible as you might think,” George muttered on another grimace.

“Did you hear something we didn’t?” Douglas demanded.

If the godmother was going to make the Christmas fairy a male, then he might just pack up and get out of town for a while.

“Kind of…” George groaned inwardly.

Life as he knew it was about to come to an end. He was the Christmas fairy — he would never live it down.

“Well?” Michael demanded.

“The Christmas fairy this year is… Male,” George groaned inwardly at the thought of telling his friends. He’d chickened out announcing the truth of it because it was so awful a thing to happen to any male.

“Bloody marvelous!” Douglas exclaimed before he put the tankard to his lips and knocked back his drink. He practically licked the inside dry. Then he slapped the metal down on the wooden bench table in front of him and pushed his bulky frame upwards. “Well, I’m going on holiday until after Christmas!”

“Sit down,” George grumbled.

“Are you insane? I’m not sitting around here waiting for the godmother to make me the Christmas fairy!” Douglas grumbled.

“A little round Douglas fairy on top of every Christmas tree in the world – sounds…” Michael sniggered into his drink.

“I’m not round – it’s muscle,” Douglas grunted in annoyance.

“Relaxed…muscle.” Michael bit out on a snigger.

“There’s no chance of that,” George sighed.

“And how would you know that?” Douglas snatched up his belongings and was ready to leave.

“Because — she’s already chosen the Christmas fairy,” George groaned inwardly.

“Who is it?” Michael chuckled.

“I don’t know what you’re chuckling at — it could be you!” Douglas grumbled.

“Bite your tongue,” Michael put a little magic behind his words and Douglas did just that.

The big man grumbled and groaned in annoyance. He was fixing to turn his magic on the man when George piped up.

“It isn’t Michael, it’s me,” George sighed.

“That’s not funny,” Douglas shook his head to back up his words.

“Definitely, not funny,” Michael snorted his contempt for the idea that George could be the Christmas fairy.

“Could you imagine the fairy godmother trusting such a noble tradition to George?” Douglas chuckled.

“Not this side of forever, no,” Michael chuckled back.

“Well, she did,” George grumbled again.

“That’s funny, but I have to leave,” Douglas said.

“Douglas, sit down. I’m the Christmas fairy,” George said a little too loudly, and everyone inside the establishment stopped what they were doing and turned to gawk at him.

George groaned again.

Suddenly, the place erupted into chatter, laughter, and pointing fingers. Of course, they were all pointing at George.

“You’re serious?” Douglas demanded. He didn’t just sit down in his chair he dropped into it.

“Unfortunately, and very.” George groaned again.

“That’s…” Michael couldn’t get out another word because he couldn’t seem to make his mouth move, except to laugh.

“I suddenly hate Christmas,” George grumbled.

“Well, that’s not exactly the kind of Christmas spirit that will carry you through the holiday season, is it?” Jessica, last year’s Christmas fairy, wiggled her hips up to the table and sprinkled some fairy dust through the air.

Show off.

“Go away,” George grumbled.

“I would — because I hate to be this close to you. But, our godmother said I needed to chaperone you for a little while,” Jessica sighed.

“No really — go away.” George didn’t much care for Jessica or her flamboyant ways.

She was a much better Christmas fairy than he would ever be, and he couldn’t understand why the fairy godmother had cursed him with such a horrible task when there was Jessica, who deserved to be cursed.

“Fairy up, George, we have to get you in the Christmas spirit,” Jessica offered back with a wide smile that was as fake as her hair extensions.

“George’s idea of a Christmas spirit is a few bottles of booze,” Douglas chuckled heartily.

“I really, really hate Christmas,” George grumbled, and face planted his hands.

 

~

~

~

 

“Your task, if you choose to accept it, and you will,” Jessica informed him with glee. “Is to find a mated couple and give fate a little helping shove in the back.”

“And why can’t fate do it herself?” George moaned.

“Because George. As good as fate is — sometimes witches do not always do as they are told, or shown, in this case.” Jessica informed him.

“Oh no – not a witch,” George groaned.

“Yes, George, a witch — enjoy,” Jessica offered back with glee.

The trouble with witches was that they could always see a fairy coming a mile off. It was the auras that surrounded them that did it every time.

Witches were predisposed to see magic in whatever shape or form it arrived. That included faeries.

That was good for the witches and bad for the faeries. George was in no mood to deal with a witch. At least, not after his last encounter.

Still, his godmother had asked him to do something — well, not asked — and he would have to do it.

Especially, considering, the woman had an all-seeing eye, not really, but she did have spies everywhere.