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Our feud with the faeries reached its high when they hijacked our tea party this week. It all started with the collapse of their faery houses under the weight of snow and ice and their decision to move into our house. We are very understanding people, especially when it comes to magic folks, but living with them was next to impossible. Tripping over tiny horses again and again, getting hurt by out of control unicorns and our cats would chase the faeries with the pegasus hard on their heels. Our house turned into a mad house. Instead of helping to solve the mystery of disappearing socks, they were dancing on the piano keys to make very unsettling twelve tone music and forcefully evicted all Playmobil people from their houses in a wicked ploy to move in themselves. Now we had those folks running about as well.
We called a summit of their leaders with the CEO of our household, but diplomacy failed and war was declared when I called them faeries and not elves. Apparently when you bestow the Franco-Anglican term onto Germanic magic folks, you are a fool and thus the feud began. In their clever and cunning ways, they started playing tricks on us, switching salt and sugar, leaning ‘purely by accident’ onto the Wii power button when we were about to get a first place, putting cayenne pepper into our wine glasses when we were not looking, lighting matches directly under the smoke alarms in the middle of the night, dousing the cats in expensive perfume, hiding car keys in the pastry flour and eating all our chocolate.
It proofed impossible to catch them all for a return to nature and I was tired of surprises like finding the floor covered in glue in the morning or children missing the school bus, because the wee ones had knotted up all shoelaces incredibly tight. To provide a little rest from this mess, we decided to have a little tea party. We had barely sat down when the wee folk descended onto our party like ants onto sugar cubes. In our favor and some kind of cosmic justice though, their last mischievous deed turned around unto them.
First, Feya the oldest burnt her feet landing on a teapot and Surah’s parrot drowned in a pot of milk. Yasira got stuck in the lemon bars and feared for the life, since Eyela & Ophira were devouring one after the other and showed no signs of slowing down. Tinuveel unknowingly had a piece of salmon sandwich and went into anaphylactic shock due to allergies. Apricum was mortified when his love Feya the third dove head first into the sugar cubes, he tried to hide in the creamer because he did not like to watch her flying on a sugar rush. Oleana, the smallest and youngest, ate a whole rum infused cherry and passed out, just like Falaroy, who slurped tea with rum and was drunk as a skunk. Arelan overdid it with the cucumber sandwiches, which gave him never ending hiccups while Sera II was stuck to the orange marmalade she was trying to get for her twin Sera I and the scones. Nimsay and Lindariel ate too many berries, resulting a belly aches.
It was not a catastrophy for all involved, Bilara and Iloris who had nurtured a thorough dislike of the other for a long time, noticed that they shared the same dream of bathing in whipped cream and small tendrils of friendship grew. Only Nuray and Turag, who had already maximized their daily weight watchers points, refrained from joining the feast, as well as Marween, who was content to listen to the mayhem from her perch and Feya the youngest, who took a foot bath in tepid Earl Grey.
Were we upset to have out tea party hijacked like this? At first yes, but when we woke up the next morning to find our house devoid of tricks and rather quiet, we realized that the faery-elves had left. They must have felt that it was impossible to be mischievous with us after being so thoroughly embarrassed by their own bad behavior. Come spring, we shall put some lemon bars in the vicinity of their dwellings, as a sign of peace.
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