Magic Envelope

A response to Suzanne Young's "Friday Funkday" in Flashy Fiction.

I opened the mailbox. Flipping through my mail, I trudged back up to my apartment on the third floor. I'd received a PG&E bill, a Pyramid Collection catalog, a shiny advert for the local tire shop, both of them trash since I was squeezing by as it was and couldn't pay the PG&E bill until I got my paycheck in two weeks. Odd, underneath the PG&E bill was a lumpy envelope. I threw the junk mail on the pile of papers on the dining table and chewed on the PG&E bill -- I needed to find some place where I wouldn't lose it until I had the money -- as I looked at the lumpy envelope. The corner was stamped airmail. After the phone call last Sunday, Monday afternoon for Jezebel, she'd promised to help. I had scoffed at the time, how could she help me clean up the place before mom came to visit next weekend.

Yet, I now had a little package from Jezebel. I shook it, two soft bumps rattled as they slid in the envelope.

"Hey, we're trying to sleep in here."

In my surprise, I dropped the envelope. I backed away from the airmail envelope and absently dropped the PG&E bill on the floor with the scattered popcorn crumbs.

"What did you do that for?"

Jezebel had sent me a talking greeting card? She was odd, but even she wouldn't think that would help clean up this dump. I picked the envelope up by a corner, the lumps seemed to move of their own accord.

"You gonna let us out or what?"

I opened the letter. Two doll-like figures, sparkling wings sticking out of their backs, tumbled onto the stack of mail and papers to read for class strewn across the table. They reminded me of little Tinkerbells except unlike Tinkerbell's flawless skin and ageless eyes, they were wizened creatures, the tiny wrinkles on their faces had mini-wrinkles inside them.

"You must be Chris," said the male Tinkerbell. "You look just like your sister." He walked out on the edge of an envelope.

"Watch out," I yelled as I tried to catch the envelope as it slid off the pile causing him to slide down the stack of paper and fall on the floor.

He fluttered his wings and flew back up to the table. "Well, we must be at the right place. Jezebel said you needed our help."

I must be dreaming. These things couldn't be real. "Who are you?"

"This is my wife Mary, and I'm Braun." He bowed.

"That wasn't what I meant. You can't be real." All the pressure of mom's visit during finals must be testing my sanity.

"We're domestic fairies. At your service for the next week."

Mary flew to the window and looked outside. "Braun, it looks the same down under as it does back home."

"Down under? Jezebel lives down under."

Braun shook his head. "We've been here for tens of thousands of years, civilized long before you hairy apes walked on two feet. You've got that down under thing upside down."

I felt lightheaded. Maybe if I took a nap, I'd wake up sane again. "I must be dreaming you two. I'm going to nap now."

"Enjoy your beauty sleep," said Mary. "We'll get this place presentable."