Apparently, my hairy-legged heroine with the hay-stack hair-do, fell way too far below the minimum "kempt" standard most bloggers expect and demand. To wit, I'm told as no-one wants to actually read about my sorry personal hygiene problems, my character needs to either glam-up, or be immediately shut-down, with all future blogging privileges withdrawn forthwith.
Harsh, or what?
Soooo, with this borne in mind I hereby present you with
The Further "Scrubbed-Up" Fantasy Adventures Of A Desperate(ly Bored) Housewife
(Note to Management: All effort has been taken to cover any offensive appendages.)
Guess I knew it was only a matter of time before word of my super-powers got out.
In truth, I have tried to play them down some, because, well no one really likes a show off, do they? Still, I guess it was inevitable it would have to come out at some point. I mean, once you've got it, you've got it, haven't you? Be daft not to use it now and then, akin to stashing a billion quid in the house, only to then go stand in line at the soup kitchen.
Still, yes, with a little hindsight, I agree, perhaps I may have chosen a more fit, responsible way to test them out. No bones about it, I am truly very, very sorry.
I apologise.
Profoundly.
But I ask you, who ever heard of a Super-hero having to do community service? And as for this ankle-tag nonsense, surely you cannot be serious?
Sigh..
On your own heads be it, then. C'mon, what happens when I need to save the world, and it's past my curfew? Have you really thought this one out?
Okay, but don't let it be said I never warned you, is all..
(Pout.)
I wouldn't mind, but it's hardly as though I actually asked to get set apart from all you common mortals. No-one thought to tap me on the shoulder to ask. A little, "Oh, 'scuse me Missus, how do you fancy me bestowing a few superhuman gifts on you?" might, maybe have come in handy.
Okay, but don't let it be said I never warned you, is all..
(Pout.)
I wouldn't mind, but it's hardly as though I actually asked to get set apart from all you common mortals. No-one thought to tap me on the shoulder to ask. A little, "Oh, 'scuse me Missus, how do you fancy me bestowing a few superhuman gifts on you?" might, maybe have come in handy.
I could have said no.
Unlikely, granted, but still, I might have.
They didn't know.
All I'm saying is, it would have been nice to at least have been given the option. But oh no, all I get is, " ZAP!" done deed!
Guess I should have known better than to get mixed up with that bunch of fairies. It all began when I took that sodding picture - you remember, down by Fairy Bridge?
Yeah, that's the one.
Unlikely, granted, but still, I might have.
They didn't know.
All I'm saying is, it would have been nice to at least have been given the option. But oh no, all I get is, " ZAP!" done deed!
Guess I should have known better than to get mixed up with that bunch of fairies. It all began when I took that sodding picture - you remember, down by Fairy Bridge?
Yeah, that's the one.
Naturally, it got my curiosity up, and I found myself being drawn back there. But for all my hours spent in searching, the fairies never revealed themselves again.
Reluctantly prepared to admit defeat, I finally made one last pilgrimage to lay my gift at the fairy shrine, tied my wish to their tree, and turned for home.
That's when I heard him. Proper foul language he was spouting at that.
'Course, I had no idea what was going on, but the mutt was acting in a real frenzy, I'd never seen him in such a vexed state.
Running over, I see something snagged on his upper canine. The curses and screams mixed together with Jake's snarling confuse me, and I actually do a double take, believing it's the hound himself there that's doing all the yelling.
And then I see him.
Eyes out on stalks, my jaw gapes. Looped by his belt and snagged to Jake's tooth, is this angry-faced, livid, little creature, being tossed and flung around fit to rattle his every bone.
"Do something ya' great galloping galloot! Call yer fecking flea-bag off, right this minute, ya' gormless, puss-filled, face-ache of a vacant, howling waste o' space, ye.."
Well now, I don't know about you, but I don't respond very well to being spoken to in such tones.
Distressed as he is, there's no excuse for such a stunning lack of manners. Besides, he's certainly ignored me for long enough, hasn't he? Have I received so much as one simple thank you for all those carefully chosen gifts, lovingly left lying by his shrine?
Ha! Look, who needs the favour NOW then, eh?
Grabbing Jake's collar, I calm and settle the little fella' down enough to reach over and pluck the wee guy loose, and raise him by his belt, level to my eye.
Big mistake!
Still kicking and cursing, he lets his fist fly straight, smack-bang into my retina - owowowowowow, that damn-well hurts - yet still I hold him fast (if a little farther away).
"Take yer shiftless, slimy, sticky mitts off a' me, ye stinkin' stream o' steaming sputum.."
Charming, eh?
Still, the little folk are hardly sought out for their polite after-dinner conversation. Everyone knows the catching of a fairy gives out huge rewards, but it's also common knowledge they rarely give up their favours with grace.
It takes several minutes of stern negotiation (the best part involving ducking him in the river for a bit) before he finally swears to give up my just due.
It takes several minutes of stern negotiation (the best part involving ducking him in the river for a bit) before he finally swears to give up my just due.
Satisfied I've won a life-changing prize, I happily set the little fella' free, as once promised, no fairy can ever go back on their word, it's set in stone.
Admittedly, maybe I should have asked him to be a little more specific as to the gifts he'd bestow, but I'm not always the sharpest knife in the drawer when it comes to my trust.
Admittedly, maybe I should have asked him to be a little more specific as to the gifts he'd bestow, but I'm not always the sharpest knife in the drawer when it comes to my trust.
I just kinda' assumed it would come in monetary form, y'know?
Not as in a bolt of lightening set to frizzle my being.
Sheesh, what the hell is all that about?
No sooner have I let go of him, a flash of energy sears through my veins hot enough to rival any giant onset of the menopause, and I find myself soaring way up, up, over twenty foot high, only to plummet down fast and hard, landing slap-splash-crash into the middle of the boulder-strewn river.
No sooner have I let go of him, a flash of energy sears through my veins hot enough to rival any giant onset of the menopause, and I find myself soaring way up, up, over twenty foot high, only to plummet down fast and hard, landing slap-splash-crash into the middle of the boulder-strewn river.
Scares the bejesus out of me, so it does (the wee rat-bag's way of revenge, no doubt)
.
.
I want to make it plain, I had no say whatsoever in the powers the warped little sod chose to gift me. Awesome as they may be, would you elect to have the ability to stop the bad guys by fetid stench alone?
It's hardly flattering to be known as the Queen of Skunks, y'know.
I'll have it said, my motives were nothing but pure when I chased down that mugger - how the hell was I to know the whole of Douglas would need evacuating, afterwards?
And another thing, so far as I was aware, I thought that whip he gave me was just a tool to round up the baddies with, no one told me it disabled folk by inflicting instant, multiple ejaculation.
(Eewwwh - pul-ease!)
Still, a girlie has to make the best of things.. I mean, at least the transport looks groovy, eh?
(Further note to Management: Ten cans of super-hold hairspray have been sacrificed to ensure each hair be expertly nailed into place, during the execution of this photograph.)
