Friday, September 7, 2012

If It Comes in a Can, It Must Be Good

"Bampton, you still up there? Don't make me pour those faeries down your throat. Again."

A breeze caught the tuft of Bampton's hair that even when slicked with hair product managed to stick upright. He fiddled with the flat tin on his desk and the clothespin beside it.

"Bampton, I'd better see your shadow racing across the yard. If I get another note from the school that you're late, no more Quidditch practice with your friends for a month."

Bampton sighed. His mother did not understand. She thought he didn't want to eat the faeries because he was subscribing to that vegan literature the goody two shoes was spreading at school. He figured they were already dead, so it wasn't carnivore-ism. He just hated the smell.

He pinched the clothespin over his nose and peeled back the tin's lid. A dozen faeries lie side by side. The faces blue. They stank just like a rotten walrus washed up on the beach. Even through the clothespin. He scrunched his eyes shut and poured the faeries into his mouth. They were soft, gooey things, and he hated the texture. His eyes popped open as he floated and bumped his knees against the bottom of the table. The novelty of flying still held a little magic. He grinned as he grasped the edges of his window to fling himself into the sky.

Time to fly to school.