Hanny had made up her mind and taken leave of King Innocent.
“Why are you leaving me girl?” asked the King.
“Oh Majestic Majesty, King of Kings, Lord of the Dance, and Suzerain of Suspect Undies! I need to find myself! I need adventure beyond your nethermost sphincter! I seek a great Quest to be the Best of the Best to flee the Nest! I will not Rest until I pass a test or wear a string vest! Washing your smalls no longer cuts it for me! I want romance! I want Escapades! I Favour Fabulous Exploits in Far Flung Fatherlands! Magnificent Memories of Mutinous Motherlands! I want to liberate a Libellous Land! And I could do with a firkin good seeing to!”
The unseemly fat twat of a King shifted uncomfortably at the last part. He would happily have complied with the latter request, though he knew that such a course of intercourse would lead to Queen Dillberry separating his sweetmeats from the rest of his body, and serving them up to him on toasted Rye Bread. Or even putting them into a mixture of four ounces of butter, four ounces of caster sugar, a couple of top quality free-range eggs, possibly a teaspoon of vanilla extract, four ounces of self-raising flour, a dash or two of milk, cooking for about ten minutes then shouting ‘How’s about that then for a couple of King Size Fairy Cakes’.
He knew his Queen well.
She had a face like a cats arse on fire, but she was his Queen, His Consort, and His Mill Stone.
And he loved her dearly…
“So, what are your plans then love?” asked the Minging Majesty.
“I am going to join the Sankyu Fairies and save the little people on the High Seas! Vanquish the Pirates of Penns Aunts and those from the Carob, Ian!”
“Yes he’s a nasty piece of work is Ian the Carob. And those vicious Aunties of William Penn can be an absolute pain in the bung hole! Well go safely my sweet and make sure you don’t surrender your patooty to some loser like that Pixy whose arse you fixed! Go with my Grace; never forget me.”
How the fuck could she ever forget?
Endless days of scraping the winnits from his arse, washing his soiled pants and adorning an FFP3 respirator to get into his armpits.
“Thankyou Majesty. I’ll be off then!”
Hanny departed the Royal Palace to forget the Royal Fat Ass. As a parting pledge she had arranged with her long-time friend Fairy Nuff to find a replacement in the regal bottom cleansing trio; Nuff at once came back with her cousin Hadi Nuff. She had a vague idea to head West to Hlither Poler to meet her cousin, should she still be based in that fine City.
And so it was she walked along the banks of the River Thyme, hoping beyond all hope to get to Hlither Poler to meet her cousin .
When you are standing on the Edge – on the Edge of Time – coincidence becomes more likely. So it was that Hanny drifted toward the Bridge of Size as Tom, Magdalene, Ken and Wayne stood perusing and adjusting.
The Bridge of Size spans the Thyme not too far from the Ghetto (the Ghetto), being a great place for males to assess appendages.
Tom was very impressed.
“You have a really big nose!” he said to Wayne. “And hands to match!”
“Thanyuverrmuch,” said Wayne.
“You know what they say about men with big noses?”
“They must have lots of handkerchiefs!”
They laughed in a simpering chuckle at the lack of double entendre.
“And is this really the way to Itchy Coo Park?”
“No – you need a few sessions with the girls from the Ghetto (The Ghetto) if you want Itchy Coo. You need to see Saint Annie, Sweet Melinda or Nurgul; they’ll sort you out. Then there’s plenty of cream available from the Farmer!”
“Yes, but don’t go to A or B!”
“Which one should I go to?”
Hanny enjoyed the mist that rose from the river, so sang a tribute to the fog on the Thyme, just like all the Fairies are meant to do. She pranced about flapping her wings and winging her flaps, singing a song that she made up on the spot.
“Oh Fog on the Thyme
Can you be mine
And see me through
The mists of Time
Fairy’s end every song with tra-la!
Hanny knew that somehow she had to get to the coast, a long way to the west, then along the Mere Sea to meet her cousin Mutch. She hoped beyond hope to find some travelling companions to take her to the Mouth of the Thyme where it meets the Mere Sea. From there she knew it would be tough sailing as the Mere Sea is shiny bright and rough as a bears arse. But then she could become a Fairy across the Mere Sea, and take her to the land she might love. And there she’ll stay. Her life could go on day after day and see hearts torn in every way.
Then the appeared to be a manipulation in the rivers of Time and Thyme. Mad Toms wrist worked furiously in his pants and then…
Thyme and Time again.
“I thought about this next week,” said a slightly irate Tom of Bedlam as Hanny made her way under the Bridge of Size. “I know this is a Fairy of some renown, a Fairy of some repute, and she is cute and she could be our new recruit!”
“Have you forgotten already?” asked Mad Magdalene.
“Maybe,” replied Tom cautiously.
They moved a little distance from Ken and Wayne to have a quieter discussion.
“This is her!” said Magdalene. “This is the Fairy we sent to the Isle of Faery next year! And we brought her back from the Lake of the Gloompty Fish with the bottomed bothered Pixy! Have you forgotten already?”
“Of course I forgot because if we do it next year my brain can’t always recall what happens in the future,” explained Tom.
Fairy Hanny came bounding up to them, her fulsome bosom wobbling like oscillating trampolines under the gravitational impulse of an overweight Ogre.
Ken and Wayne readjusted their trousers on the Bridge of Size.
“What high and what ho?” asked Hanny.
Ken thought she intended doing some gardening whilst under the influence of his produce.
“Wurlitzer!” he said.
Hanny scanned this collection of ragamuffins and ne’er do wells. She was used to the stares of rambunctious Elves as they became enthralled by her bodily undulations, but these other two weirdo’s… there was a sense of familiarity about them. The guy with the bright blue eyes and the lady with the golden hair; could it be a memory of the days of future passed? Those moody blue eyes had her captivated. Then her good old common sense kicked in. Elves and strangers would only mean trouble or adventure. She steeled herself for the encounter – or did she stole herself?
Hanny intended setting the ground rules; and if the Elves started any nonsense their testicles would be ground into mush under her brutally black, twenty four lace-hole boots.
Yes Fairys wear boots and you’ve got to believe me.
She did not realise at this moment, but Another Great New Adventure had begun.