Hump Day Quickie #79

Posted: September 23, 2015 in Hump-Day Quickies
Tags: , , , ,

Dreammaker

by Rebekah Postupak

“Coffee?” A wordless nod; I poured. The coffee was cold and the mug had pink fuzz growing in one corner, but she wouldn’t notice. “Sunny out?”

Another nod.

“It’ll be autumn soon.”

She shrugged. “So?”

“Pumpkin season!”

Now she laughed. “You think that still matters?”

“It used to.”

“If it still mattered, the earth would be overrun with pumpkins by now. And even then, they would be sought after like diamonds. Like gold.”

“There’s always lattes.”

“Pshhh. Artificially flavored.”

“Cynic! And I suppose you think everyone today should be a cobbler.”

“No; but it would be nice if shoes were made by humans rather than faceless machines. Shoes today have no soul.”

“No sole? Now look who’s funny.”

“I mean it. People care more about the label than the fit. It’s not what shoe they’re wearing; it’s what shoe everyone else is wearing. They don’t even care where they’re going.”

“You think glass was any better?”

For the first time I caught a tiny flash. “Some thought so. Once.”

“Tastes change.”

“No. I mean, yes, they do, but—“

“People change.”

“They didn’t used to.”

“Forgive me; I’m having a little trouble untangling your complaint. You’re clearly upset, but I’m no trickster. You got everything you asked for, down to the tiniest clause. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“It never failed you.”

“No.”

“Your subjects won their princes, exchanged ash heaps and cottages for palaces and happy ever afters. They conquered dragons, led armies, changed the course of history.”

“Yes. Yes, all of that. Every time.”

“And after that, they multiplied, just as you hoped.”

“Yes, they did.”

“I’ve read the reports: you’ve a hundred million Snow Whites. Five hundred thousand Auroras. At last count, three hundred million Cinderellas, and—correct me if I’m wrong—three billion Princes Charming.”

“Yes. Those numbers are right.”

“Again, please forgive me, but I just don’t follow. What is the nature of your complaint?”

The godmother’s eyes stared back at me, hollow. “I don’t know,” she said, the whisper in her voice echoing theswish of the wand as it fell.

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