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Storage of stories written for The Bradbury, 2025. |
| Wasted I could see him as soon as I entered the pub. He was sitting alone in a dark corner, a slight, lonely figure hunched over a drained glass of beer. At the bar I ordered a pint of some generic lager and one of bitter. In England I drink English beer. I carried the two glasses over to the man’s corner and sat down at his table. Only then did I say, “Okay if I sit here?” He glanced at me without interest. “Looks like you’ve already done so.” “Think of it as a rhetorical question,” I replied. He returned to his study of the table and his empty glass. I pushed the lager into his line of sight. “This might cheer you up.” This seemed to break into his mood for he looked up at me again. “I don’t need no charity.” “It’s not charity, it’s that excuse for beer that you always drink.” “Lagenbrau?” he asked. “Yup. I do my research.” A puzzled look passed across his face. “Do I know you? How would you know what beer I drink.” It was time to get real with the guy. “I’m your fairy godfather,” I advised. He had lost all interest in the table and the glasses now. His brows locked together in a frown. “You’re my what?” “Fairy godfather. Like a fairy godmother but with less maternal instinct.” At this point you’re probably thinking that he wouldn’t believe me. And it’s true that I get that pretty often. But this guy was different. Either he’d had enough of his gnat’s pee lager to be decidedly tipsy or he was just naturally gullible. His surprised expression disappeared and he said nothing for a while. When he did speak, it was a question. “Does that mean you’re here to help me? Or do I need a pumpkin and a few mice?” I smiled. “You catch on quickly. I’m here to make your dreams come true and no pumpkins required.” “So I make a wish and you grant it?” “Not quite,” I replied. “As I said, I’m going to make your dreams come true. Since I know your dream, that’s already decided.” This gave him some pause for he went silent for a while before speaking again. “How could you know what I dream of?” I took a swig of my bitter and leaned back in the chair. “Well, I’m your fairy godfather. Which means I have to keep an eye on you and see you through the bad times. There’s not much about you that I don’t know.” “Yeah? So what’s my dream then?” “That’s easy. You’re always whining about being in debt and having to scrape and save to get by. I’m here to make you rich.” “What, you mean you’ll magic up a huge bank account for me just like that?” “Well, not exactly. But that’s the basic idea.” He pulled the glass of lager over to him and took a sip. “Just as I thought. There’s a catch.” I shrugged. “No such thing as a free lunch,” I said. “I’ll have to make a few changes in you, that’s all. And the money will come but not by magic. All legitimately earned and every penny above board.” That guarded look had returned to his expression. “What sorta changes?” “For a start, you’re going to have to spruce yourself up a bit. And you’ll find that your next interview will lead to a job. So your attitude to work will have to change. But don’t worry, I’ll make it so you’ll enjoy it. And then the money will be a compensation too.” It was his turn to sit back in the chair. “So, no magic, just hard work.” “If you put it like that, yes.” “Huh, some fairy godfather you turned out to be.” I could see I was losing him. “Hey, even Cinderella had to do her part to get the Prince. And you won’t have to slave away for an evil stepmother.” He leant forward over the table and spoke earnestly. “Look, you’re not telling me anything I didn’t know already. Did it not occur to you that I like being who I am? If I complain sometimes that’s only because it’s what I’m good at. Life’s no damn fairy tale and I deal with it the way I do because that’s who I am.” It happens sometimes. There’s always someone who refuses the offer and stays in their misery. Maybe I was missing something. After all, I’ll not deny that many of those who take the deal and wind up rich also find that they’re still unhappy. Few indeed are those who go on to spend an enchanted life in a self made paradise. In fact, now that I thought about it, I could only think of one. I downed the rest of my drink and stood up. “Okay, Trevor, if that’s the way you feel…” He had returned to his hunched position, staring at the table top. “Yeah, yeah.” The strange thing is that I felt as bad as he did as I left. Sometimes it all seemed so pointless. Word count: 856 For The Bradbury, Week 4 2025 |
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