The Fairy and the Ogre (Part 1)

Once upon a time, a young woman sat at a boring desk doing boring work – typing till her fingers bled and reading till her eyeballs fell out.

One Tuesday, as she sat in front of her computer beating her head against her desk in frustration, her boss stopped by for an unwelcome visit.

“Sleeping on the job again, eh?” he boomed nasally, “Better lift that job performance, or you'll lose your bonuses!”

As Sally contemplated the loss of a measly $3.56 annual bonus, her bile rose and she got angry. VERY angry. But what could a mere worker like herself do against the might of management?

That evening, as she labored at her ever-increasing workload, she spied a night-dweller of the office – the cleaner. Hump-backed and quiet, only venturing to speak if spoken to, he shuffled around emptying bins.

“Evening!” she said, attempting a bright smile and succeeding only partially.

“Evening, dear” smiled the cleaner, “you're working late, aren't you?”

Sally looked at her acquaintance, and briefly pondered the office hierarchy which made managers so far above her... and the office of cleaner such a huge distance to fall.

“Do you enjoy your job?” she enquired.

“Well, dear – it's about all I can get, looking the way I do!” the cleaner twinkled cheerfully.

“May I ask... your back...?”

“Oh, that!” he harrumphed. He leant down, “Can you keep a secret, dear?”

“Ummm... I- I- guess so..” stammered Sally, a little bewildered but very, very curious.

The cleaner whipped off his coat (causing Sally a few moments of deep anxiety – an office was no place to be stuck alone, late at night, with a demented sexual predator). On his back was...

... a pair of wings?

Fairy wings.

Translucent, glittery, the works.

What's more, they were firmly attached to his bare back.

“Errrrrr... you're a cleaner dressed as a fairy?” uttered Sally, near lost for words.

“I AM a fairy!” declaimed the cleaner/fairy.

“Oh”

“You don't believe me, do you, dear?” enquired the cleaner/fairy, with a glint in his eye.

“Welllll...” said Sally diplomatically, “It's a bit hard to take in, isn't it? I mean, fairies are kids' stories!”

The cleaner giggled, and Sally started to worry a bit again. Then again, she HAD learnt self-defense. And the cleaner was pretty weedy – she could probably hold him off long enough to call security.

“Tell you what,” suggested the cleaner/fairy, “I'll grant you a wish. Something localised, mind you, and fairly small. No lotto winnings or fancy cars in your driveway, let alone castles built overnight. I'm a fairy, not a genie!”

Sally pondered. She couldn't take this seriously, but she didn't want to seem to NOT take it seriously either...

“Get rid of my boss” she said, “Don't kill him, don't even harm him, just make life a bit hard, make him want to leave. He makes MY life pretty damn hard, I'd like to see him suffer for once.”

The cleaner's eyes brightened. “Perfect!” he announced, rubbing his hands together, “I know the perfect trio of brownies to make his life hell... they love personalised mischief. They'll embarrass him, plague him and make it all look like unlucky coincidence!”

The cleaner wandered off, giggling and muttering under his breath.

Sally, shaken, slumped down in her chair and wondered what on earth she'd just done. Surely at the worst her boss would be in for a couple of slashed tyres or a loosened chair back... something annoying and maybe expensive to fix, but not majorly criminal. She'd hate to have incited a mentally-ill member of the community to cause real damage to someone.