Small Sharp Sticks

What the crap is that nipping at my ankles?

I looked around, then found myself being poked with a small sharp stick.

“I don’t have time for you.”

Lack of sleep and too much on my mind has rendered me impatient. I threw the Pixie across the room where it landed against the wall in a horrible splat.

They were everywhere. I was surrounded. I know I should ignore them but the keep biting and poking.

“Ignore them,” says my husband.

My parents have always done a superb job at ignoring them. Pixies don’t dare go around them. Unfortunately my siblings and I are not so skilled. The nasty little creatures keep reminding us of everything trivial that we shouldn’t be wasting our time on. They poke and poke and nip and bite and taunt.

Finally I said enough this morning and in celebration fixed a nice cup of green tea.

One of the little bastards came scuttling around with tiny sharp teeth and an impish grin. With the accuracy of a major league baseball player I threw my tea spoon at it and bonked the nasty little thing on the head. It stood shocked, then wobbled, and then vanished in a puff of pink and green smoke.

“Tell your friends I mean business,” I said just the last bit of it went away.

Outside my window I saw a ghost. It was one I’d never seen before, dressed in Gold Rush era garb. They get thick in the woods around here. I flashed it my fangs. The ghost opened his eyes wide and vanished. Ghosts and Pixies. Two things we can all do without.

Now I’ll have that tea.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman