Growing up for the kids’ sake

There’s nothing that matures you faster than having to take care of someone smaller than you are.

Because let’s face it, most of us aren’t that great when it comes to taking care of ourselves. We know everything we should do to keep ourselves happy, healthy and relatively functional, but we tend to ignore the bits that we don’t have time for or we feel like are too hard for some reason. It’s even easier to ignore if the problems it causes aren’t immediately apparent, because it’s much harder to worry about 10 or 15 years in the future when you’re focused on making it through a particular day.

But when you have a kid, or become responsible for a kid for some reason, suddenly it’s much harder avoid thinking about all the things you should be doing. Or, more specifically, all the things that someone should be doing for this particular child, who is relatively young and innocent and still feels like they should listen when people tell them what to do. Horrifically, you have somehow become the person who’s supposed to pass on all the advice you’ve been happily ignoring for years.

Which means that you not only have to remember all that advice, but you have to figure out how to sort out the useful information from the random fads that get news sites all excited on slow news days. Because this child hasn’t lived long enough to tell the difference between what’s healthy and what’s complete nonsense, so you have to figure out how to do it for them.

Even though you’ve (probably) been successfully avoiding a Healthy and Responsible Life (tm) for several years, it’s your job to explain to this child how to live that kind of life for themselves. Because you may have opted out, but they’re not old enough to make that choice for themselves yet.

Which means, unfortunately, that it’s your job to choose for them until they can. You have to learn how to watch out for those moments when they’re screwing up, and figure out how to get them back on track. Even more importantly, you need to be on the lookout for dangers they haven’t figured out yet, or you forgot to tell them, and help keep them from falling into them. As a bonus round, you also have to figure out when you need to start letting them make choices on their own so they learn how.

On top of all of that, you have to be a good example, because this kid is going to look up to you. No matter how ridiculous you are, all this child is going to see is a loving and responsible adult in their lives. They’re going to want to pattern themselves after you, often zeroing in on the traits you least wish they would notice and immediately copying them. Which means that, even if you don’t particularly worry about keeping yourself healthy and safe, now is probably a good time to start.

It’s not for you – it’s so your favorite small person doesn’t start making all the terrible decisions you’ve been happily making for most of your life.  

New short story: Fine Print

The sorcerer held the pendant in his outstretched hand, the red stone giving an eldritch gleam in the dim light. "This was forged in the fires of Hades by the artisans of the damned. Wear this, and you will be unstoppable."

The richly dressed man on the other side of the table reached for it eagerly, but stopped when the small woman next to him cleared her throat. She was wearing a suit and a politely disinterested expression, and the sorcerer hated her instantly. "Not yet, your lordship. There are a few points of the contract I need to go over with Mr..." She flipped through a few of the pages in her hands. "Dread Dank Darin."

The nobleman sat back in his chair, disappointed. The sorcerer – Darin to his friends – narrowed his eyes at the woman. He definitely did not approve of the way she said his name without a shred of awe. "Contract? There is no contract. I have to summon a demon if you want one of those, and I'll need a case of alcohol and 48 hours advance notice."

The woman gave him a long-suffering look. "No, I meant the implied contract that comes with ownership of the pendant you are trying to sell my client. For example – you promise him that he will be 'unstoppable' if he purchases this, but what precisely do you mean by that?"

The sorcerer's brow furrowed, not sure what she was getting at but definitely not willing to admit his confusion. “Exactly what it says on the tin. Unstoppable. Cannot be stopped.”

“By whom, exactly?” The woman’s voice was just polite enough to be infuriating. “Individual opponents? Entire armies? Gods? If he takes possession of the pendant, will he be capable of stopping himself should he choose to? Or could he, for example, eat himself to death without intending to? And what definition are you using for ‘stop’? Defeat in battle? A halt in his rise to power? Death? And if it is death, does it mean he can’t be killed or that he can’t die?”

“I knew an immortal once,” the nobleman said suddenly. “He mostly gardened. Said he was bored of everything else.” He shuddered. “I can’t even imagine.”

The sorcerer gaped at them both for a moment, caught without an answer to even a single one of the woman’s questions. Then he shook his head and focused his attention on the nobleman.  “Unlimited power is almost in your hands, your lordship! All you have to do is pay me!”

The nobleman hesitated for a moment, giving the pendant one last hungry look, then shook his head. “No, sorry. Can’t do it. My grandfather got himself killed in one of those ‘no man can defeat me’ loopholes, and that was before there were so many lady knights about.” He pushed himself away from the table, standing. “No good rising to power if you make it that easy on people to stop you.”

“But… but….”

The woman tucked her papers into a briefcase, then stood as well. “I would advise you to look into researching your products more thoroughly, Mr. Dank.”

By the time he had recovered enough to correct her, they were gone.  

Adventures in wildlife, part 2

Photo courtesy of pbs.org

You know those moments when your gut tells you that something is happening, but your brain doesn't really want to deal with the complication and keeps deluding itself for a few more minutes?

Turns out I do that waaay more than I'm comfortable with.

I was sitting just outside the front door of my apartment on the darkened walkway, surfing the internet by the glowing light of my computer screen. It was inching on 2 a.m. and I really needed to go to bed, so I finally made myself surface and shut off the computer. That's when I looked over and saw this ... shape on the walkway not more than a foot away from me.

Staring at it through the darkness, I could almost hear my brain think the words "Oh, it's probably just a leaf." Now, this shape looked absolutely nothing like a leaf, and I knew that as I stared at it, but if it was anything else I would be forced to actually do something. So, still telling myself it was a leaf, I reached over to touch it.

It was warm and just a little soft, like the skin of a particularly fuzzy peach. I was forced to accept the fact that it was most definitely not a leaf.

As if in agreement with the thought, it chose that moment to chirp.

Well, the only thing to do at that point was to scramble upright, tuck my laptop out of the way of whatever was about to happen, and turned on the porch light. There, lying on my walkway, was the most adorable little brown bat I have ever seen. It was just plastered against the cement on his belly, and I was suddenly afraid the poor little thing I'd just heard the poor thing's final chirp when it started to move around.

Now, this was not my first encounter with local wildlife. I've hauled to safety several birds who tried to kill themselves in my hall closet, but this was different. The little guy wasn't imposing on me at all, but my apartment complex is full of idiot kids, even more idiot teenagers, and drunk people, all of which could easily show up before I got outside in the morning and none of which I wanted anywhere near this little guy.

So I Googled, the one information source that doesn't care what time it is. I desperately started searching on my tablet, standing outside on the off chance I could keep him from getting stepped on (in the city, drunk people can literally show up at any moment). Most of the information was about what to do if they were flying, but as my little guy was still plastered against the ground that was clearly not the issue.

Not that he wasn't mobile. I turned off the light, in case it hurt his eyes somehow, then jumped dramatically like a minute later when something warm and soft bumped into my foot. I immediately flipped back on the light (with apologies, of course) to see the little guy crawling along at a pretty impressive pace. It thought about going off the edge of the walkway for a few seconds (not a comforting thought – I'm on the second floor), then clearly decided against it and turned around.

By this point, Google was telling me that the best way to move the bat was to urge it to grab onto a stick and carry it around on that. I was short of actual sticks – there are very few convenient branches in the city – so I grabbed a very dull-edged decorative sword (yes, I know. The only excuse I have for grabbing that instead of oh, I don't know, a broom, was that it was 2 a.m.) and ran back outside to find that the bat had crawled about 2 feet up the brick wall right by my front door and settled in for the night.

Now, I was really tempted to let him stay – like I said, the little guy was adorable – but that was still very much grabbing height. So I tried to get him interested in the sword, but unsurprisingly he wasn' t having it. I found a grabbing arm with a nice metal pole, but he wouldn't grab that either. In the end, I got desperate and used the grabbing arm to gently urge him into an empty, lidless cool-whip container (apologizing the whole time). Then I carried him to the one strip of relatively protected green space for like five blocks and wedged him into branches a few feet off the ground. When I went back to check on him a few minutes later, the container was empty and he was gone.

I went back the next morning to check again, but there was no sign of anything (I shooed off a cat, just in case). Clearly, I'm getting a little bit of a reputation amid the smaller portions of the animal kingdom. 

No shame in loving "dumb" movies

© 2015 CTMG, Inc.

I have to be very careful sometimes when I talk about movies I like.

When you’re in any group of “serious” movie fans, those of us who talk about awards season like people in movies talk about horse races, there are certain standards you’re expected to uphold. Anything that won a major award is usually acceptable – the Academy Awards or the Golden Globes are always safe, though you get extra points if you can get something slightly more obscure.

Even better is if the movie was nominated, but lost to something that wasn’t quite as “good” but came from a bigger studio. In general, your favorite films should be mostly dramas, though Wes Anderson’s movies (“The Grand Budapest Hotel,” “Moonrise Kingdom”) get a special exemption.
Major blockbusters may be liked under certain circumstances, but only if they’re well made. It helps if you can spin some explanation of how, for example, all the explosions are really symbolic of the destruction of modern society. (It goes without saying that you have to say all of this with a straight face).

I’ve seen many of these movies, and there were some of them I actually liked. As a former English Literature major, I can talk about the thematic significance of nearly anything, which meant that even if I didn’t like a movie I can talk about it in appropriately serious tones.

But I’m tired of hiding the fact that there’s a part of me that absolutely adores dumb movies. Though I haven’t seen the sequel, I actually liked “Paul Blart: Mall Cop.” (I actually had to physically fight the urge to go back and delete that sentence out of embarrassment, or qualify it with something like “even though I know how stupid it is.” Truthfully, I’m still fighting it, and it’s hard enough that I’ll be amazed if this entire paragraph makes it online).

I love the most ridiculous action movies, the kind that defy both common sense and the laws of physics, and want to be able to gush about my love of “Furious 7” without apologizing for how wonderfully absurdist it is. I want to be able to watch Reese Witherspoon use a terrible Texas accent (at least, I think it was a Texas accent) and fall over stuff in “Hot Pursuit” without having to pretend I wished it were something like “Wild.”

I will admit that Witherspoon was really good in “Wild,” a tough, searching movie about grief and self-identity. But do you know one thing it wasn’t? Fun. And sometimes, all I want to do when I go to a movie is switch my brain off and watch idiots crash into each other onscreen.

So if you honestly want to see a movie, go no matter how many insults movie critics or your “serious” movie friends pile on its head. Even if I’m the one lambasting the movie, feel free to ignore me if that’s what you want. If you end up deciding I was right, e-mail me and we can trash the movie together.

But if it turns out that you love it – or even like it just fine – there’s nothing wrong with that. Shout your love from the rooftops.  No matter how “dumb” the movie is, there’s absolutely no reason to be ashamed.

Yes, even if it’s “Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2.”

"Beast Charming" alternate scenes: A Sinking Sensation

This is an unused back story for James, aka Beast, from a much, much earlier draft of  "Beast Charming" (so no real spoilers if you haven't read the book). For me, the most hilarious thing about this is that there was once an entire version of the novel written in first person.

Chapter 2
A Sinking Sensation (Beast)

Looking back, it was not one of my more intelligent moments.

The entire fiasco was not, however, entirely my fault. Iliana looked at first glance exactly like every other predatory young thing that always crowded balls like this, giggling and fluttering her eyelashes at each and every available lordling in the immediate vicinity. If that weren’t enough of a cheat, her ice-blond hair had been piled on her head in a complicated style that all-too-conveniently hid the pointed tips of her ears from the unsuspecting.

I, naturally, had retreated to the library, drink in hand and a large chair blocking the only entrance. Just because Waverly insisted that it was part of my duty to hold a ball once a year didn’t mean that I actually had to attend the thing – as long as I let them use the space and paid for the hors devours, I considered my part in the festivities amply fulfilled.

Also, I was hiding. The fairy godmothers had published a list the year before rating the eligible noble males in the kingdom, and to my horror I had several gold wands beside my name – a title slightly more impressive than most of the young men within reach, a respectable amount of money to back that title and, thanks to a nasty curtain accident several years previous, no annoying father to stand in my way. Together, they added up to a picture that was irresistibly and unfortunately attractive to several members of the opposite sex, and they along with their mothers declared me the top target on their list of suitable prey

Sadly, the additional point that I was also a moody, sarcastic little snot did little to significantly change my standing, no matter how often I tried to advertise this particular aspect of my personality. Though I had managed to scare off one or two women, most didn’t have enough idea of what I was talking about to be offended. Hence the library, and the thick, heavy wooden doors ready to stand guard between me and massed femininity outside.

Unfortunately, my butler refused to see the genius of my plan. When the door creaked open, I set down my glass and picked up the heaviest book within reach, but it was only Waverly ready with another drink and a disapproving expression. “Can I get you anything, sir?” he asked in a faintly pained voice. “Perhaps some hermit rags and a long white beard?”

“Go show the guests how hilarious you are,” I hissed, taking the drink out of his hand and making shooing motions with the other. “And leave me alone until the uninvited guests are gone. Who knows who could have followed you?”

Waverly rolled his eyes. “Heaven forbid you should actually have to speak to someone, sir. Who knows what tragedy could strike.” Still, he closed the door, and with a deep sense of satisfaction I locked it behind him.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough to stop it from opening again a few minutes later. “Waverly, I told you ….”

“You could tell me more.” I swore at the distinctly feminine voice, and cringed at the pale, delicate looking creature that swept into the room and shut the door behind her. “I have been looking for you the entire evening, my lord. I’ve heard so many lovely things about you.”

My eyes narrowed at her. “That door was locked. How in Grimm’s name did you get in here?”
She lifted an elegant shoulder. “Magic, my lord. What else?”

Okay, maybe that should have been a clue. Still, as warning signs went it was unfortunately small – anyone could bribe a fairy godmother and get the same effect. “Fine” I growled, returning to my book.  “Now use it to leave again.”

She frowned at me for a long moment, then smiled the smile of a person who has just completely dismissed the last few minutes of conversation because there’s no way they could have conceivably happened. “What a sense of humor you have.” She swept forward, hunting for a seat close to mine. “If you could only dress a little more appropriately I’m sure we could work wonderfully together ….”

I stood up, stopping to grab a dictionary as I approached her. “Let me be more specific,” I cut her off, glaring at her. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to look at you.” As her eyes began to widen, I lifted the book in a menacing manner. “And the mere thought of ‘working wonderfully’ with you makes me want to break out in hives. Leave now, before something unfortunate has to happen.”

”But …” Her breath hitched, and she splayed a delicate hand across heaving bosoms. “You don’t want to hear about my ….”

“The only thing I want to hear from you,” I snapped. “Is the sound of the door smacking you as you leave.”

I could see the tears start to glisten at the corner of her huge violet eyes, usually the sign that they were about to scurry away in defeat. I set the book down, but barely had time to take a step back before a wand was suddenly pointed at me. Then everything went black.

And, as I realized when I could open my eyes again, furry.

Deleted Scenes: Beast Charming, part 1

This is the prologue for a slightly earlier version of "Beast Charming" that didn't make it into the final cut. While this means that some of the plot details listed here means that it no longer fits neatly onto the version of the novel you guys will be getting – at least one character has disappeared entirely, just as an example – it's a nice little introduction to the situation and some of the key supporting characters who did stick around.

000

Prologue: Door-to-Door Curse Correction

 “…and I’ve been told he’s a wonderful listener. It’s true that he doesn’t exactly have ears, but he’s an enchanted washboard – I’m sure they’ve made some other arrangements. A couple months of quiet company and poof, you’ve got yourself a prince – the happily ever after’s practically guaranteed ….”

 “Father.” Grace was surprised at how calm her voice sounded. “Let’s pretend I’m Beauty for a second.”

Startled, Noble froze in place, forcing the crowd flowing down the street to part around his bulk. “You’re my good daughter. Why in the world would I want to imagine you changing into your horrible little sister?”

Grace leaned forward as she jabbed a finger into his chest. “Because then I would be the type of person who would tell you that if you don’t stop talking this instant, I’m going to knock you unconscious with this zucchini and leave you here to be stepped on.”

Noble blinked, then glanced furtively up and down the street in case anyone suddenly seemed a little too excited to help Grace follow through with the “stepping on” part of Grace’s plan. When no one came forward, he glared at his daughter. “Wouldn’t you say that was just a little more dramatic than the situation called for?”

Grace narrowed her eyes. “You want me to start dating an enchanted washboard. I don’t think you’re in any condition to be swayed by subtle suggestion.”

The empty space around them widened by a few inches, the need for the surrounding people to shave a few seconds off their travel time momentarily subsumed by the much more pressing need not to get caught in the middle of an Embarrassing Family Moment.

“I offer you the future and you sound as if I’m making you scrub the kitchen. Why have I been cursed with daughters who have such narrow minds?” Noble’s sigh was long and loud in the hopes that random passersby might take pity on him. “You all must have gotten that particular deficit from your mother, God rest her ….”

“Don’t even start with that.” Grace started shaking her head before he could even finish the sentence. “You know as well as I do that she’s not dead. She ran off with that merchant from Elvinton when Beauty was five and none of us have seen her since.”

“Which means that she could very well be dead by now,” he huffed, brown eyes not quite capable of meeting his daughter’s grey ones. “But that’s completely beside the point. The enchanted washboard’s the best potential fairy tale I’ve been able to find yet. There’s hardly any effort required on your part, and the prince won’t even get the chance to be … to meet you until you’ve already won his heart by saving him.” He leaned in close, wrapping a conspiratorial arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “It’s practically a sure thing – two weeks, at most, until you get your very own happily ever after and I get a wealthy and grateful son-in-law.”

Grace shoved Noble’s arm off her shoulder, whirling back around to face her father. “That, in case you’ve forgotten, is exactly what you said when you kept dumping frogs into our beds every night on the off chance that one of them might turn into a duke. And when you knocked Patience unconscious and spread the word that she was a long-lost princess caught in an enchanted sleep. Not to mention that time with the geese ….”

Noble folded his arms across his stocky chest, lower lip jutting out slightly in what he would never admit was an angry pout. “Your great-aunt Caroline locked herself in a tower for a measly six or so years and she managed to snag herself a baron.”

Grace groaned and rolled her eyes, then recited the same response she’d been making to that line since she was 15 years old. “It was actually the third son of a baron, Father, and the family was so poor that Great Uncle Nigel had to hire himself out as a castle maintenance man. He met Caroline when he was fixing a leak in the tower roof and just never got around to leaving.”

 “A minor detail.” Noble waved his hand casually, brushing away that inconvenient little thing called reality. “No matter what he was doing up there, your great-aunt certainly never would have met her future husband and stopped being such a burden to her parents if she hadn’t been up in the tower in the first place. Besides,” He sucked in his stomach, the mass of it lifting his chest a good three or so inches. “Her father didn’t have my vision.”

Grace raised an eyebrow. “Have we forgotten about the frogs already?”

Now Noble’s chin lifted. “Failure,” he said with utmost conviction. “Is just another step on the pathway to success.” Then he drooped slightly, adding with a mutter, “Though with you girls, it’s gotten to be an incredibly long pathway.”

Grace sighed, feeling it all the way down to the base of her spine. “You could just leave us alone, you know.”  She lifted a hand to rub the back of her neck. “It’s about the only crazy thought you haven’t tried yet.”

Noble made a disgusted noise. “But I have tried it, and look where it’s gotten us. The men from the village make the sign of the cross when they see Patience coming. Your little sister Beauty isn’t quite such a terror, but she’s still stubborn, smart-mouthed and thornier than your mother’s old rosebushes. You’re the only one who has any sort of chance of attracting a man on her own, but you’ve been so busy taking care of Beauty that it hasn’t occurred to you to start looking.” He shook his head. “Finding you girls fairy tales is about the last chance I have to stay sane.”

Completely unable to think of an argument her father would actually understand, Grace gave up and simply glared at him again. “You still haven’t told me how you decided I was destined to be the washboard’s dream girl.”

Noble raised an eyebrow, mocking Grace’s earlier gesture. “Have you actually listened to your sisters recently?”

Grace folded her arms, deliberately keeping her expression even. “Weren’t you the one that said the main advantage of this particular fairy tale is that the poor washboard wouldn’t get the chance to see or hear his future beloved until it was too late for him to do anything about it?”

Noble opened his mouth, then snapped it closed when he realized that she might have a point. His chin lifted again. “Maybe I was trying to reward you for making my life just a little less miserable than your sisters insist on doing.”

Grace remained unmoved. “You only think that because I’m willing to do the family mending.”
 “True.” A wistful look came into Noble’s eyes. “If we could only get you to start doing some embroidery, needlepoint even, I could pass you off in just about any castle there is ….”

Before Grace could respond someone with an overly large basket knocked against her, causing her to stumble backwards and nearly fall. Catching her father’s arm for balance whether he liked it or not, she straightened with an annoyed sigh. “And then there’s always the chance I could trip and smash the prince into a thousand pieces,” she added sarcastically, brushing away a lock of sand-brown hair that had fallen out of her bun before turning to face the rest of her father’s argument.

But he just stood there frozen, eyes wide like Grace had accidentally elbowed him in the stomach. Then he sighed, his entire body seeming to sag with the sound. “It would be just like that time with the twelve princes, wouldn’t it? Only eleven other couples in a gigantic enchanted ballroom, and you somehow manage to knock a grandfather clock on top of your prince charming.”

 “Once, Father. I did that once. Besides, that prince of yours is the one who practically threw me into that clock in the first place. If he hadn’t danced like he was swinging a sack of grain around ….” A little voice in Grace’s brain kept desperately trying to close her mouth, reminding her that she should be relieved that long-term commitment to a chunk of wood wasn’t in her immediate future. But she had been joking, curse him. “Breaking his legs was probably a community service.”

But Noble had already moved on, staring meditatively off into the distance. “It’s too bad about the washboard. Still, maybe I can trade the information to a wicked uncle or something, see if I can get one to adopt one of you girls for a couple of weeks. The poison, unfortunately, isn’t going to be ready until the end of the month, so at least for right now that’s a wash. If only that butler of his wasn’t so … well, well, well. There he is.” His gaze sharpened as something caught his eye, an almost predatory edge sliding into his expression. “I’ve got him now.”

Noble set off into the crowd, stopping only when he realized that there was now a Grace-shaped weight firmly attached to his shirtsleeve. “Who’s ‘he,’ and what terrible thing are you about to drag him into?” She took a quick, desperate look in the direction he had been staring, hoping the view would give her some sign of whatever was going on in his head. “More importantly, when are you going to spring this terrible thing on us?”

 “Not ‘us,’ my dear girl.” Noble was smiling contentedly as he carefully pried her fingers off his arm, and for the first time that morning Grace felt her stomach twist with genuine nerves. “I try to save the more … extreme situations for one of your sisters”

Grace’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no way Beauty’s going to believe a word that comes out of your mouth. After that whole ‘straw into gold’ mess you tried to pull ….”

Noble shook his head, far too pleased with himself for anyone’s good. “As if I would limit my possibilities that way.”

 “You can’t mean … Patience?” Grace’s breath caught. The oldest of the three girls, Patience was rude, snappish and had a temper that could frighten off a bear, which meant that their father attempted to pass her off less often than he did the other two (large teeth and a willingness to use them made for a very convincing argument). If this was a chance to get her out of the house.... “You think you might actually be able to use her this time?”

He nodded, more than happy to lie. “You’ll never know unless you give me peace to work.”

She scowled at him. “That’s evil.”

His smile became a grin of satisfaction. “I do my best.”

000

“What would you do if I told you that I could solve all your problems?”

Momentarily distracted from a rather amusingly shaped rutabaga, Waverly raised an eyebrow at the tall, slick-looking individual in front of him and tried to decide if he was worth the effort for sarcasm. “Then I would say that you no doubt have too much time on your hands, for you very clearly have some problems of your own that need to be attended to first.”

At the expression on the other man’s face Noble shifted a bit, suddenly ever so faintly unsure of himself. He knew he was being insulted, but wasn’t sure how or whether it was worth possibly sacrificing the plan to call him on it. Still, no point in wasting the opportunity …. “Unfortunately for me, none of my problems involve your employer’s ... condition, which happens to be the subject that I am currently most prepared to deal with.”

Waverly sighed, looking fondly over at the displays of produce it was clear he wasn’t going to be allowed to return to for quite some time. He could do them both a favor and verbally destroy the man before he truly embarrassed himself, but to do so in public would be unforgivably rude. “And what condition would that be?”

Still caught somewhat off guard, Noble studied the other man’s eyes in the hopes he could see the joke.  When that failed, he cleared his throat and began a more concerted effort to be charming. “Amusing, sir, but I believe you know the condition I speak of as well as anyone does. Wouldn’t it be simplest, then, to leave such delicate matters for a more private setting and get right down to business?” He held out a hand for a handshake, but pulled it back quickly when Waverly merely eyed it as though he found the gesture amusing.  The idea rankled – what did the man expect, a bow?

For once, Waverly privately agreed with the man. It would be best to get this over with as soon as possible and return his attention to tasks that were actually important, or at the very least more mentally engaging. “Of course, but it might be wise to clarify a few things first,” Waverly allowed a disdainful edge to come out in his voice. “If by business, you mean that you just happen to have a convenient/daughter/sister/ex-wife laying around your domicile that you just know will be the one that can break the horrifying curse of the Beast of Darkwood Hill, then let me tell you that you are to date the 49th person to have come up with such an idea. I beg you to come up with a reason, any reason, why I should pay any more attention to you than I did them.” He thought for a moment. “And, if at all possible, do please try and make it amusing. I’ve just undergone a rather dull week, and could use the entertainment.”

Noble groaned inwardly. Honesty was all he had left, and it galled his salesman’s heart. “If you take away the sister and ex-wife, then you pretty much have it,” he muttered finally. “However, since I don’t know your taste in humor it’s going to be a little hard to fulfill the last part of your request.”

“Then I suggest you simplify your response by telling me why you think your version of the plan, whatever it happens to be, might actually work.”

Noble shivered inwardly, then reluctantly dipped another toe into truth. “Basically, my main selling point is the fact that Beauty is an incredibly stubborn girl. If she sets her mind to doing something, no amount of big hairy anger management issues is going to scare her off.  In fact,” he admitted after a moment, “it’s possible that she’ll be the one to scare him off.”

Waverly’s eyebrow moved up again, his curiosity finally piqued. For once, this was an angle he’d never heard before. “And does she want this?”

Noble allowed himself a small grimace. Forced into all this honesty in the space of a single conversation – he was going to need to lie down after this. “That, unfortunately, will be the hard part.”

Waverly eyed the man in front of him, sorely tempted for the first time in what he was certain had been years. It wasn’t that he specifically needed the curse broken, though such a result would certainly make life easier for the castle décor and the poor souls doing Beast’s tailoring. It was simply that what Beast needed right now was someone to take him out of himself. If Waverly was lucky, they might even slap some sense into the boy before putting him back.

If nothing else, it was possible he had just found the one girl capable of shouting Beast down if the need arose. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly at the thought. “Out of curiosity, what do you plan to do with this Beauty of yours if I say no?”

This time, the grimace was almost completely suppressed. “I suppose I could try and get her in with this enchanted washboard I’ve heard about ….”

Waverly shook his head with a sigh. The lack of vision in some people was appalling. “I hope you’ve put slightly more thought into your primary plan than you have into your backup. I dislike being a party to incompetence.”

Noble’s forehead wrinkled as he tried to analyze exactly what the butler might have meant with that last sentence. “Are you saying you’re interested?” At the mere forming of the thought he leaned forward slightly, the eagerness already beginning to leap back into his face. “Because I could con Grace into running some sort of errand up near the castle, I’m certain of it. If your master caught her trespassing on the property and held her hostage – in a dungeon would be the best – I’m sure Beauty would trade herself for her sister’s freedom ….”

“That would be one way of going about things.” Waverly took a precautionary step back, in case the man became overcome and insisted on doing something ridiculous like touching him. “A much saner, approach, however, would simply be for me to write this Beauty of yours a letter and offer her a suitable job at a quiet, respectable castle with residents who have conveniently never met you before in their lives. By the time she arrives at her true destination it will be too late for her to back out, and… we shall see what develops.”

Noble fought back an expression that was dangerously close to a scowl. “That’s all?”  Noble had planned on looking like he had nothing to do with this, and would have gotten to that point had he been allowed to actually lay out his brilliantly foolproof plan. This butler person didn’t know his daughter at all – Beauty was way too good at screwing this sort of thing up. There was no way something so idiotically simple could succeed where he had so often been thwarted.
Still, it would be best to agree now, then take matters into his own hands once she was safely inside ….

“For the moment, that will be all that’s needed.” Waverly raised an eyebrow, amused by some distant thought. “Though I suspect that it would be a good idea to hide the fine china.”

Loving your brain

by Gaetan (via Wikipedia)

We're reminded almost constantly to treat out bodies right. We're told to exercise so our muscles stay strong, eat healthy foods so our bodies get the vitamins and minerals they need, to protect our skin from the sun and make sure we get regular dental checkups.

When we get sick, injured or just achy, our co-workers tell us to go home and take care of ourselves. Get some medicine. Have someone cook you some chicken soup. Give your body the love and attention it needs to get well again.

Our brains, however, don't get nearly so much love and attention. We're constantly making demands out of the thing, insisting that it perform perfectly at work, remember the kids' schedules when we get home and think up something brilliant for our anniversary. We get mad at it every time it forgets something, and when it feels things we don't want it to we bottle the emotions up and pretend they're not happening. We're expected to be able to work forever, shake off negative feelings, and constantly achieve more.

But it's just as important to take care of our minds as it is our bodies, maybe more so. Our bodies may be what keep us alive, letting us do all those wonderful things like walk, talk and breathe on a regular basis, but the brain is the switchboard that makes it all happen. You wouldn't lovingly take care of a sports car only to mistreat the engine, would you?

What people tend to forget is that our minds are just as fragile and just as prone to injury as our bodies. That organ that allowed Beethoven to write symphonies that outlasted him my centuries, or Einstein to discover things about the universe that no one had ever imagined before, is just a small, wrinkled organ that's so complex internally that scientists are only beginning to understand it. If something as relatively simple as an arm or a leg can get damaged so many ways, imagine the trouble that the brain can get in to.

But we shouldn't be ashamed of our brains for getting tired, or even breaking, any more than we are when our muscles and bones do the same thing. We should learn to accept its frailties the same way we accept that we'll never be a size six, no matter how many diets we go on, or that we'll never run as fast an as Olympic sprinter no matter how hard we train. Sometimes we get a cold, no matter how hard we try to protect ourselves from germs, and sometimes we feel sad for no reason we can explain.

Once we can accept that our brains aren't perfect, then maybe we can start learning to take care of them as well as we do our bodies. Addiction can have as many effects on the mind as it does the body, and seeking treatment can improve your life on more than just a physical level. Taking breaks, and not being quite so hard on yourself, can help lower potentially damaging stress levels. Seeking treatment for depression can help you reclaim the life you no longer feel like you have the energy to maintain.

It's normal to take vitamins to improve our bodies, or medicine when we're sick and need to feel well again. It's normal to pamper aching muscles for a little while, giving them the chance to heal. We need to learn to treat our brains the same way.
 

Never Open the Death Closet

One of the poop-covered victims

Our apartment has a death closet.

Mind you, we don’t provide the bodies. The birds do it themselves, flying in through an opening on the side of our building to drop in to our water heater closet through the vent. Too often, they’ll injure themselves and fall/crawl behind the water heater, where they then can’t get back out again. We hate it, but none of our previous supers would put grates up, and short of developing some sort of bird pulley system there’s nothing we can do.

It’s better when the birds can fly, and we have a rousing game of “fly out the open door you stupid bird.” One of the birds that showed up after the last rainstorm did just that, while the other one insisted on a game of tag first as it tried to fling itself against our closed and screen-covered kitchen windows (that were three feet from the open door, mind you).

The following morning, I heard more noises from the bird closet. Our new guest had no interest in flying, and when I tried to grab him he just tried harder to wedge himself in the crack between the wall and the water heater. I had to get to work, and I didn’t want the guy to get back there if I could help it, so when I left for work I kept the door open and hoped it would see sense.

When my roommate got home, she texted me that there was a bird trying to fling itself against my bedroom window and no sounds from the closet. She got the bird out and closed the door, and I told myself the matter had been solved. The bird she described sounded too big to be the one in the closet, but I wanted to think that it had gotten out.

The next morning, though, I swore I could hear birds in my room. Now, sounds echo oddly through the thin walls of my apartment building – when I’m in bed I can hear anyone knocking in my building – but I was certain enough to get up twice, put on my glasses, and peer desperately around my room. Finally, I convinced myself I was hallucinating and went back to bed.

I later got up, went to work, then came back home. As I was hanging a shirt up in the closet, I heard a flapping noise from somewhere around the floor. I shrieked “I knew it!” and proceeded to hunt for the bird, which was trying to wedge itself into a tiny space behind the filing cabinet. After an exciting adventure behind my bookcase, we got the bird and deposited it in a safe place outside. Finally, all the birds were accounted for.

Somewhere, the universe was laughing at me.

Later that evening, I was on the phone with my sister, and when I turned around there was suddenly a bird sitting on my bookshelf. I made an unholy noise, which caused the bird to disappear again, at which point I starting shoving my way through the solid two feet of furniture and assorted crap that stood between me and the corner. One of those things was a stuffed animal that made a trilling noise. It activated when I threw it, at which point I shrieked, “There’s another one!” I was overwhelmed enough I had to hang up the phone.

When I’d collected my thoughts a bit I realized it was the stuffed animal I’d heard, and I was calmer as I finished clearing everything else out of the way. Then I looked down into the dark corner and saw two little birdie faces staring up at me, their expressions clearly wondering why I was freaking out so much.

I then walked into the kitchen, laid my head on my roomate’s shoulder, and said “There are two of them.” She patted my shoulder and came to help.

The first one was relatively easy to get – plastic bag gloves are an important part of this process – and as I carried it outside she tried for the second one. This one, unfortunately, wanted to die, and we had a whole adventure behind two different sets of bookcases while it ran back and forth along the entire length of one wall. My roommate had it at one point but it escaped, making her wedge her hand into an inch tall space while she cursed the bird’s ancestry and all its cousins.

Finally, though, she got it, and I hurried to the front door to open it for her. Just as I left the room, I suddenly heard her scream (and I quote), “Fuck! There’s another one!”

At that point, I was laughing too hard to breathe. After that, getting the last bird out was almost anticlimactic.

I’m still finding poop in my room, and our landlord swears we’re finally getting a grate. Until then, though, I’m not opening that damn water heater closet for anything.

Special Client

Special Client
by Jenniffer Wardell

"What the hell is this?"

"It's a script."

"I know it's a script, Frank, but what do I need a script for?" My improvisation not doing a good enough job for you?"

"No, Harry ..."

"Harriet!"

"Sorry. Of course not, Harriet. You're the sexiest voiced cross-dresser we have on staff, and I love the job you're doing. But this is for a special client."

"A phone-sex line has a special client?"

"Weird, I know. but this comes straight from the higher-ups."

"A phone-sex line has higher-ups?"

"Harriet..."

"Okay, okay. But still, why do i need a script? I'm creative -- I can treat this guy right."

"I'm sure that you can, but this one has ... special needs."

"Any more special than the guy that got turned on by egg yolks? He hung up satisfied."

A pause. "Well ... yes. Have you read the script, Harriet?"

"Not yet. But even when I do, how do i know what guy to use it for? We take names and credit card numbers, but the script doesn't include either."

"You'll know. Besides, he always calls at the same time."

"And when would that be?"

"I don't remember." A pause. "Do you know what the time difference is between here and Eastern Europe?"

"Eastern Europe?!"

"Just read the script, Harriet."

"Fine." A pause. "Night ... a huge bed ... balcony window ... black cape ... a fantasy scenario? That shouldn't be too hard."

"Keep reading."

"Nightgown -- ok ... heaving breasts -- like that's original ... a lot of neck descriptions -- unusual, but not a problem ... biting ... hey, wait a minute. Frank ..."

"Don't worry about it, Harriet. I'm sure you'll do great. Remember to compliment him on his huge, throbbing teeth. He loves that. Bye."


Click. 

Getting to Know You: Rupert Charming, the original handsome prince (played by Channing Tatum)

He may not be the sharpest knife
in the drawer, but he's polished very,
very prettily.

I had a request to hear from Rupert, the crown prince and older brother of “Fairy Godmothers, Inc’s” leading man Jon. I thought it was only fair that I give him the same getting-to-know-you questions as Kate (which I borrowed from http://www.humorthatworks.com/how-to/50-questions-to-get-to-know-someone/).

*Minor spoilers*

What was your favorite food when you were a child?

Cake. The cook would make these enormous cakes for all the parties, taller than I was and big enough I couldn’t put my arms all the way around them. The adults never ate any – you have to try and not get fat when you’re a grown up – and so it would always be there after. Later that night, I would sneak downstairs and make a running leap into the side of the cake. It was wonderful.

What is one of your favorite quotes?

“Inner harmony can only come when our inner voice is in accompaniment with the outer representation of our truth.” – Dr. Abraham Sneefleupaicus

What’s your favorite indoor/outdoor activity?

Singing in taverns. I’ve learned most of the songs, and  the barmaids are always happy to whisper explanations for the dirty jokes I don’t always get the first time. Everybody’s generally singing along by the third song, and sometimes people will even use their tankards or axes to pound along in time to the music.  

What chore do you absolutely hate doing?

I thought about doing chores for a little while, but I decided they would be far too stressful.

What is your favorite form of exercise?

Riding horses. They never ask you for conversation or try to tell you boring stories, but they always neigh in the right places when you’re explaining something to them.

What is your favorite time of day/day of the week/month of the year?

Things are always more fun after it gets dark. The people who would usually yell at you have already gone to bed.

What’s your least favorite mode of transportation?

Walking can get very tiring very quickly, but I would still rather walk than get stuck in a carriage for hours with my grandmother. She keeps poking at me with her walking stick and asking when I’ll give her grandchildren.

What is your favorite body part?

I’ve been told I have a very heroic chin.

What sound do you love?              

Complete strangers all singing together, really loudly and probably off-key. It makes me feel happy just listening to it. 

To learn more:
http://www.amazon.com/Fairy-Godmothers-Inc-Jenniffer-Wardell/dp/0988649152

Being Different

Every once in awhile, I wish I was normal.

           
No, it wouldn’t be as fun. Normal people have to dress a certain way, and not raise their hand and say anything that their neighbors wouldn’t like. Normal people can be warm and wonderful, but they’re bound by the societal rules pretty much every second of every day. 

           
But surely it would be easier. I get to ignore the rules, dress/think/act how I want to, but in exchange for that I have to figure out everything pretty much on my own. The normal people are in the carefully mowed park, having a picnic, while I’m lost in the deep woods hoping that the berry I’m about to eat isn’t poisonous. Yes, I get to see things no one else can see – secret waterfalls, wild animals, and sunsets designed to bring tears to your eyes. But I also get scratched and desperately, desperately lost.

           
We don’t wander out into the woods on purpose. The rules sound like an alien language to me, and the years have proven that I am physically incapable of doing things the way that normal people do them. Because of the way I look, because of the way I think, or maybe just some weird pheromone nobody bothers to tell the freaks about, I don’t get the option to do things the way normal people do. The rules are written into your skin, behind your eyes, and those of us who were born unmarked are cast out to fend for ourselves. We have to stumble through without a map.

           
My brain bends sideways. Some of the most brilliant figures in the arts and sciences have had the same problem, but there’s only so many of us who get to shine that brightly. I’d like to think I have some talents, but I accepted a long time ago that I can’t shine enough to make people forget that there’s something not quite right about me.

           
I’m not broken. I remind myself of that every day, sometimes every minute, and I try with all my soul to be the best whatever in the world I am that I can possibly be. There’s no shame in being something new. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, there’s even glory in it.

But it’s exhausting always having to forge a trail before you can move even a few feet. It’s exhausting not having anyone to ask what to do next. Forgive me for occasionally wishing that I was in the park, eating boring but beautifully cut sandwiches. 

The Second Time: Book Signing Edition

Photo by Louise R. Shaw

Katherine Russell Rich said that uncertainty can give you power, but I’m pretty sure she was nuts. Sure, you need uncertainty in your life, because otherwise you’re going to spend your entire life in front of the television, but I haven’t noticed it make me any mightier. What it mostly makes me is panicked, though I’ve gotten to the point where the only obvious sign of this is eyes that grow to about three times their normal size (though, since they’re pretty small anyway, that might be a plus).

             

Still, when it comes to new experiences, the second time is usually easier than the first. My first book signing was last Saturday, with my second coming up this Saturday at the Barnes & Noble in Sugarhouse (if you’re in Salt Lake, come say hi!) Here are some things I’ll know this week that I wish I could have told myself last week (or maybe not – time travel is never a good idea). If you’ve had your own book signing, I’d love for your to add your own insights in the comments.

1. Breathe

            

A book signing isn’t nearly as nerve-wracking as I thought it would be. You’re mostly there to talk about your book and explain why it’s the greatest thing ever, a process you’ve already mastered when you were trying to get the thing published in the first place. As long as you don’t try to accost people and shove the book into their hands, you’ll be fine.

2. Think about all the people who might want to buy your book

            

You will be amazed (or at least I was) about the number of people who will come up and ask if your book would be good for kids/adults/romance fans/serious readers/casual readers/goldfish. Give serious thought to the answer – you don’t want to steer people wrong, but you also don’t want to leave out a potential audience. I’ve had everyone from 12-year-olds to women with their own kids say they loved “Fairy Godmothers, Inc.,” but when I was writing it I had no idea the spread would be that wide. 

3. Don’t freak out over the quiet periods

            

Those moments when you’re sitting alone at a table, watching everyone hurrying by to places that are clearly more interesting than you are, isn’t fun. The self-consciousness comes almost immediately, followed by the flashbacks to less pleasant moments of high school.

The key thing to remember is that these quiet periods are a natural part of any book signing, and it doesn’t mean that your book isn’t the most awesome book ever written. How many times have you hurried through a store to get where you needed to go and not even noticed anything else going on around you? That’s what happening here.

4. It’s surprisingly hard not to knock into things when you have wings sticking out of your back.

            

 I have so much more sympathy for Kate now.

The Liebster Award: More about me (and the next nominees)

First, thanks to http://fjrtitchenell.weebly.com for tagging me in the great online game called the Liebster Award (apparently, it’s sort of like a chain letter for bloggers, except there’s no implied dire consequences). If I’ve tagged you and you don’t want to play, feel free to pretend none of this ever happened.

11 Facts About Me

1. “Return of the King” is the only book I’ve read in “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy. I read it all at once the evening after I first got back from seeing the movie version of “The Two Towers,” because my mother refused to tell me if anyone I cared about died in the third book.

2. Joss Whedon is a genius, but if I ever met him in person I’d probably punch him in the face. He’s hurt too many characters I love.

3.  I like the Monkees better than the Beatles. Yes, I know how desperately uncultured that makes me.

4. When I’m tired or in a hurry, I have a tendency to call people of both genders “dude.”

5. I didn’t have a car all through college. The skills I learned then in navigating public transportation have helped me out on every vacation I’ve ever taken since.

6. I have a long-term crush on Kiefer Sutherland. If I ever met him in person, I would probably do something to destroy what little dignity I possess.

7. Given the opportunity, I will usually sit on the floor rather than a chair. This is true even in my own living room, which means that my armchair ends up doubling as an extra table.

8. The most famous person I’ve ever interviewed (for my day job as an entertainment journalist) is Rita Moreno. She proved out to be charming, interesting, and the source of some fantastic quotes.  

9. I’m addicted to Chapstick. I must have a tube within arm’s reach at all times.

10. My head is large enough that I have a miserable time finding hats that fit.

11. I love buying coats and jackets, but I’m so warm all the time that I rarely ever wear them.

Answers to 11 Questions

1. What fictional world would you be most willing to live in?

I know this is cheating, but I’d have to pick the world in my novel “Fairy Godmothers, Inc.” I know all the rules, and my writer’s status would probably give me magic powers.

2. What verbal tic annoys you most?

I have so many verbal tics of my own that it would be incredibly hypocritical of me to take umbrage at anyone else’s.

3. If you could have one cancelled TV show resurrected, which would it be?

This is a tough one, because I have a terrible habit of falling in love with shows that are too quirky to live. A really good one would be “Life,” Damian Lewis’s series that ended in 2009, if only because the season/series finale is one of the most awesome hours of television I’ve ever experienced. I would love to have seen the aftermath of it.

4. If you could have one currently running TV show cancelled, which one would it be?

“Supernatural” on CW. I love the show and absolutely hate it at the same time, and the only way I will ever be completely free of the thing is if it goes off the air.

5. What’s the most surreal thing you’ve ever witnessed experienced?

With my book coming out, one of my co-workers at the newspaper wrote a story about my book that ended up going on my arts page. It was too long for the space, however, so I ended up making significant cuts on a story about me, written by someone else. For a journalist, that’s about one of the strangest experiences you can ever have.

6. What book do you think most urgently needs to be made into a movie that hasn’t been yet?

There should always be more Discworld movies in the world. I would love to see Sam Vimes in the flesh. 

7. What’s the first book that really scared you?

I wasn’t exactly scared, but certain parts of Mary Higgins Clark’s “Loves Music, Loves to Dance” did give me queasy feelings when I was a teenager.

8. What’s the first movie that really scared you?

"Carnosaur." It was the first movie I saw where the good guys lost in the last few minutes (quite horrifically, too). It traumatized me for years. 

9. What do you do to cheer yourself up when you really need it?

Read. Terry Pratchett is particularly good for those moments when I want to completely block out the world. 

10. What’s the strangest question that anyone (other than me) has asked you about your work?

If my book was a meal, what would it be?

11. What’s the answer to it?

I can’t tell you that, or the blogger who asked it will be annoyed that I spoilered her post.

11 New Nominees

 Kimba the Caffinated Book Reviewer

http://www.caffeinatedbookreviewer.com/

Rebecca Enzor

http://rebeccaenzor.com/

Sonia G. Medeiros

http://doingthewritething.wordpress.com/

Dan Levinson

http://www.danlevinsonwriting.com/

Lehua Parker

http://www.lehuaparker.com/

A Diary of a Book Addict

http://adiaryofabookaddict.blogspot.com/

Kindred Dreamheart

http://kindreddreamheart.blogspot.com/ 

Janet Jensen

http://www.janetkayjensen.blogspot.com/

Read, Rinse, Repeat

http://readrinserepeat.blogspot.com/

Kerry-Ann McDade

http://readinglittlebitofeverything.blogspot.com/

Cabin Goddess

http://cabingoddess.com/

11 New Questions

1. If you could be any kind of animal, what would it be?

2. Why would you want to be that animal?

3. Do you have any superstitions (that you’d be willing to share with your blog readers)?

4. What’s your favorite joke?

5. What’s your favorite dessert?

6.  Where’s your dream vacation destination?

7. What would your supervillain name be?

8. What would your supervillain power be?

9. If you had a time machine that would only work for one trip into the past (with a safe return as well), when would you go?

10. What’s your least favorite movie?

11. What movie do you feel is underappreciated?

The Liebster Rules:

1. The Liebster Award is given to bloggers by bloggers.
2. Each blogger should post 11 facts about himself / herself.
3. Each blogger should answer the 11 questions that are asked by the nominating blogger.
4. Choose 11 new bloggers to nominate for the Award and link to them in the post.
5. Create 11 new questions for your nominees.
6. Go back to their pages and tell them they’ve been nominated.
7. No tag backs.

Fairy Godmothers, Inc. fiction: Squirrel Lessons

Photo by Jenniffer Wardell

Squirrel Lessons

By Jenniffer Wardell

It was supposed to be a simple job.

The client was the soon-to-be Viscount of Thornby, a young man who had spent the last six months as an enchanted squirrel. He’d annoyed whoever cursed him enough that they’d also taken away his ability to talk like a human, but Kate had found a squirrel translation charm that solved that problem.

The curse could only be broken by a kiss from a maid who was genuinely pure in heart, which was a slightly more complicated problem. Still, careful research and some legal wrangling over the definition of “pure” had turned up a perfectly nice young woman named Leslie who seemed to fit the bill. A rumor about a unicorn sighting had gotten her into the clearing, she had found the artfully displayed translation charm that someone had just “happened” to leave behind, and everything was ready to go.
 

Hiding behind a tree, Kate turned to the enchanted squirrel perched on her shoulder. “That’s your cue,” she whispered.

The squirrel nodded, then leapt down off her shoulder and headed into the clearing. He’d stop in front of Leslie and begin the speech they’d prepared, and Kate would add a little sparkle just to help get the point across. She lifted her wand, ready to nudge things along….

Only to have Thornby head straight through the clearing and disappear into the trees on the opposite side.

Shock had Kate frozen for a split second, then she hurried through the clearing after him. Leslie looked up, the hope on her face disappearing as soon as she saw who it was. “You’re not a unicorn.”

Kate hadn’t planned on dignifying that with a response, but she realized she was missing something. Doubling back, she plucked the charm out of the woman’s hand. “I need that.”

It took her 15 minutes to find Thornby, who was high on a branch cuddled up to another squirrel. She yanked him down by the tail, causing a horrified squeak from the other squirrel, and held him upside down in front of her. “I should make you into a hat, you little sneak. What do you think you’re doing, running off with a poor innocent real squirrel? Does she even know what you really are?”

They both started chattering at her at once. Apparently, the translation charm worked for all squirrels.

“Okay, fine. But if you were so honest with her, why didn’t you have the guts to tell me what your little plan was?”

More chatter.

“I understand wanting to be free of your mother. But you can’t really want to spend the rest of your life as a squirrel, do you?” Kate didn’t add that she wouldn’t get paid if she didn’t produce a human Thornby.

More chatter.

“Yes, I know she’s a squirrel. But you’re going to miss food that isn’t seeds. And surely you have friends somewhere.”

More chatter.

“How can you be so sure you won’t regret this? And if you do, nobody’s going to be standing around with a convenient squirrel translation charm.”

At this, the female squirrel jumped off the tree and knocked against Kate’s hand long enough to make her drop Thornby. Kate swore, ready to start chasing them again, but then the female squirrel touched her nose to Thornby’s.
 

There was a swirl of magic, and a second later a very human man was standing in front of her. It took Kate a second to realize what had happened. “Mental note,” she murmured to herself. “Wild animals count as ‘pure in heart.’”

Thornby, however, wasn’t listening. He dropped to his knees in front of the squirrel, his face a picture of despair. “Reetcheet, what did you do?”

The squirrel started chattering, and Thornby looked even more despairing. Kate, taking pity on him, held out the translation charm. “This might help.”

He gripped it tight in his hands while the female squirrel kept talking. Kate could no longer understand what she was saying, but a moment later his expression cleared. “If you’re sure, then I’m absolutely thrilled. I’ll find a witch right away.”

The squirrel leapt onto his shoulder, and they both stood. “She wants to become human,” he said, looking absolutely delighted.

Kate smiled. She hadn’t quite gotten over being annoyed yet, but Thornby’s pleasure was infectious. “Great. Just let me handle explaining this to your mother.” It was, technically, everything the woman had contracted with Fairy Godmothers Inc. to provide.
 

She just hadn’t bothered to specify a daughter-in-law who didn’t speak squirrel.