Once In A Blue Moon An FK Fairytale by Imajiru imajiru@mindspring.com imajiru@unicorn-x.net April 8, 1996 "He's a good Man," pronounced Peaches, in her squeaky high voice. "Food," intoned Scrabble, in his scratchy low voice. "He is That which brings Food." "Mmrph," Rooof said, and tore off another piece of bread. They clustered around the latest Offering, and discussed how they might best divide the bounty; and how they might reward the one who had brought them such riches with pleasing regularity. "He's a sad Man," opined Peaches, in a chirrup of sound. "Tired," was Scrabble's assessment. "He's very, very tired." "Rrwffr," Rooof agreed, and nibbled at the hamburger patty beneath the roll. The object of their discussion was strewn across the Big Black Thing in the middle of the room, looking like a bag of trash that couldn't fit into the local dumpster and had been left atop the pile; a shapeless lump of disillusionment grasping a bottle firmly by its slender neck. "We should make him happy," decided Peaches, her voice high and shrill. "Present," affirmed Scrabble. "We should give him a Present." "Gworphr," Rooof mused, and appropriated the pickle for himself. In the very very bottom of the Deep Dark Place where their ancestors and their ancestors' ancestors had stored Special Things since time immemorial, they found the perfect Present for the Man: it took some time, and a great deal of effort, but between the three of them they managed to wrest it from its hidey-hole and bring it upstairs to the Open Space. "Good gift," said Peaches with satisfaction, and a high- pitched giggle. "Very good gift," added Scrabble, with a low rough chuckle. "Harghr," concluded Rooof, licking mayonnaise from his paws. They scuttled through the Open Space, carrying the Present with them; it sparkled and dazzled in the dim light. Across the floor they crept, toward the Big Black Thing and the Man sprawled there. "Sleepy Man," Peaches noted, in her squeaky high voice. "Not awake," Scrabble concurred, in his scratchy low voice. Rooof crunched a piece of lettuce, and belched. ------- Nick blinked, and came awake; his ears were ringing, a high-pitched hum... No, he realized swiftly. Someone was laughing. Several someones. He looked around, straining, squinting through bleary eyes, and fancied that he could see a number of indistinct shapes on the floor: a bunch of fuzzy grey blobs, and something shining... The bright-shiny thing was cold and hard -- glass -- a bottle, an infinitesimal vial, no wider than a pencil, no longer than the first segment of his thumb from joint to tip. Again, there was that odd sound, like the swift sharp jingling of tiny bells. Maybe it was the remnants of his long-forgotten dream, left behind in slumberland; but he could almost hear the voice, saying, "Drink me... drink me..." There was only a droplet's worth of iridescent liquid in the little flask; it shimmered in the faint light. Better judgment should have prevailed -- but Nick was half-asleep, and hung-over from a bottle of the Raven's finest, and there was still that spark of defiant belief within him, that trace of innocent wonder that was still capable of hoping for an instant of magic... The liquid dissolved on his tongue, with a faint spicy tang as it evaporated. Disappointment set in a moment later. //Well, that's that,// he thought, wearily setting the vial aside. //Nothing's happened, of course. I don't feel any diff...// ------- He came to consciousness on the floor, blinking at the window-shutter remote control that lay inches from his nose, and at the grey furry figure that blinked back at him. It giggled, that silvery sound of tinkling bells echoing in his ear with odd clarity. "Happy!" it said, and danced a little jig before him. "Unhhhhhh," said Nick in response, trying to make his arms and legs move, trying to force his tongue to produce speech. Another grey figure joined the first. "Good present," it said, in a sound like a rusty gate swinging on its hinge in the breeze. "Happy!" added the other grey thing, and the two danced together in a neat little circle. "Nnnaaaugh," Nick explained, as a fierce fit of pins'n'needles assaulted his limbs, making him wish for his previous numbness. "Happy present!" proclaimed the first grey creature, in its bell-like voice. "Magic present," clarified the second grey creature, in its rusty-gate voice. "Omphrarg," declared a third, strolling across his field of vision, dragging a half-slice of American cheese behind it. Oblivious to their food-obsessed colleague, the first two creatures began to dance again: across the floor, across the rug, across the buttons of the remote, hopping and skipping and jumping... The shutters creaked and groaned and started to slide open; panicked, Nick tried desperately to move out of the way, and couldn't... ...the sunlight shone through the aperture, casting a golden beam across the floor -- across him. It warmed him to the core, straight through. But it did not burn. All at once, Nick found that he could move: he jumped up, checking himself, the room around him... ...not a trace of anything unusual. No tiny sparkling bottle, no indistinct grey shapes speaking in strange voices. Nothing but himself, and a wholly unnecessary bottle of cow's blood, and the rapid pounding of his brand-new human heart. But if he listened very very hard, he could almost hear the voices, singing... He picked up the phone to call Nat, humming along under his breath to the sound of "Blue Moon." -------/end Q: Why? A: Seen 'Babe'?