The World's Worst Fairy Godmother (5 page)

“Huh?”

“Laugh!”

“Ha?”

“Laugh!”

“Hoo?”

“Laugh!” cried Maybelle. Standing up she flung her arms wide, as if she was conducting a symphony. As she did she stepped backward, tripped over a stump, and tumbled to the ground.

Susan burst into peals of laughter.

“Now that's not funny!” snapped Maybelle.

“It sure looked funny,” gasped Susan. Quickly she put her hand to her mouth. “But you're right. It wasn't nice to laugh at your misfortune. Oh, no!”

“Well, it wasn't all that bad,” said Maybelle, getting to her feet. She shook herself and the dirt and leaves clinging to her dress disappeared in a shower of little sparks. Two twigs and a leaf remained stuck in her hair.

“I know it wasn't terrible,” said Susan. “But it wasn't perfect, either. And if I'm not perfect—”

“People won't like me,” finished Maybelle. She sighed. “Listen, Susan, the truth of it is, no one is perfect. Good grief, even fairy godmothers can make mistakes. But even though you're not perfect—”

“Hey!”

Maybelle sighed and started again. “Even if you weren't perfect I would like you just fine.”

“You would?” cried Susan in astonishment.

“Of course I would. I
do.”

Susan paused. “I like you, too,” she said at last, as if she was trying out the words to see how they sounded.

Maybelle looked as surprised as Susan had a moment earlier. “Really?” she asked.

Susan scrinched up her face as if thinking real hard. “Really!” she said at last. Then, as if she had said too much, she added quickly, “But I should go see my grandmother now.”

Grabbing her basket, which now had Maybelle's love apple on top, Susan started down the path.

“Have a good time,” called Maybelle.

As she stood and watched Susan go, she was so excited it was all she could do to keep from floating.

“This is going to be just… lovely!” she whispered to herself.

Chapter Eight
The Old Switcheroo

Farther along the same path Zozmagog sat clutching his magic crab apple, waiting impatiently (which was the only way he ever waited) for Susan.

Zitzel crouched in a bush on the other side of the path. His job was to create a distraction when Susan finally showed up. He was to do this by being very quiet until she appeared, and then making a sudden movement. The main problem was that Zitzel hated being quiet, and wanted to move all the time.

“Stop wiggling, you little git!” hissed Zozmagog, after he heard Zitzel shake his bush for the fifteenth time in five minutes.

“Geez-o-pete, boss,” whined the little imp. “Gimme a break, will ya?”

Before Zozmagog could answer Susan arrived, swinging her basket and singing, “She likes me, she likes me, she green and yellow likes me. She likes me, she—”

Zitzel shook the bush he was hiding in so hard that several leaves fell off. Susan stopped in her tracks. “Goodness, what was that?” She put a finger to her cheek and thought. “Oh!” she cried at last. “Perhaps it was a sweet little bunny. I want to see the fluffy thing.”

Setting her basket on the path, she tiptoed carefully to the bush. At the same time, Zitzel scooted backward into the forest. From the other side of the path, Zozmagog moved swiftly and silently out of the bush where he was hiding. He snatched an apple from the top of Susan's basket, and replaced it with the magic crab apple. Then he hurried back to his hiding place… completely unaware that the apple he had snatched was Maybelle's love apple.

Susan searched all around the bush without finding any sign of a rabbit, or of Zitzel, for that matter.

“Oh, poobity-pobble,” she said softly. It was one of her favorite curses. She went back to the path to get her basket. When she did, she noticed the apple resting on the very top. It was remarkably beautiful. In fact, it was just about…

“Perfect!” said Susan. She looked around. No one was watching, at least as far as she could tell. “In fact, it's so perfect, it's as if it was made just for me,” she said, not having any idea how accurate this statement really was.

“Of course,” she continued, “if it was made for me, then it would be wrong for me
not
to take it. Besides, Granny would never want me to go hungry. The dear old thing would want me to eat this apple, if I needed it.”

And with that she took the apple from the top of the basket. Though it already sparkled in a stray ray of sunlight that had made its way through the leaves, she polished it on her dress for good measure.

Then she took a big bite.

A strange expression crossed Susan's face. Her eyes grew very wide, and then narrowed. With an cry of disgust, she flung the apple against the nearest tree so hard that it splattered into mush when it hit.

“Phooey!” she cried. “Why am I taking a basket to my grandmother anyway? I hate baskets. And I hate grandmothers. And Granny hates me, for that matter, the skinny old bat.” She looked around. “Who designed this stupid forest anyway? It has too many trees! It's ugly.
Uglyuglyugly!”

With that, Susan stomped off through the woods, cursing at the top of her lungs, stomping on mushrooms, and spitting at baby birds.

As soon as she was out of sight Zitzel came rolling out from behind a tree. He was laughing so hard he couldn't stand up.

“Oh, boss,” he gasped, “that was per… per… perfect!”

“Not bad, if I do say so myself,” replied Zozmagog. He was still holding the apple he had taken from the basket. “In fact, I think that ought to finish Maybelle Clodnowski's career for good, Zitzel. At last—victory is ours!” Holding up the apple he had taken from the basket, he said, “Here's to apples!”

Then he took a big bite.

At once he began to choke.

“Boss!” cried Zitzel. “Boss, are you all right?”

Zozmagog was bent over double, unable to answer.

Zitzel began to pound him on the back. Suddenly Zozmagog swallowed the chunk of apple that had been lodged in his throat. As he straightened up his face began to twist itself into shapes and expressions it had not worn in over a century.

Without even looking at Zitzel, he began to run down the path. Ahead of him he saw Edna, who was just stepping out of the woods after having a conversation with Maybelle.

When Zozmagog saw the tall fairy godmother he stopped in his tracks.

“You!” he cried. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

Edna turned toward him, then gasped in astonishment and horror.

“Oh fair one, I think I love you!” cried Zozmagog. “No. Forget that. There's no ‘think' about it. I do love you. I adore you. I worship the ground you walk on! Will you be my snookie-wudgums?”

With that, he rushed toward her.

With a shriek, Edna turned and ran deeper into the forest.

Zozmagog ran after her, shouting, “Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, Snookie, or I think that I shall die.”

Trailing after them came Zitzel, crying, “Boss! Boss! Come back!”

Chapter Nine
The Inner Brat

Doctor Derek Dekter was crossing the town square when Susan Pfenstermacher's mother came me hurtling out of her house. “Oh, Dr. Dekter, Dr. Dekter! I'm so glad you were passing by. Can you help us?”

Doctor Dekter was a tall man, heavy set, dressed all in black. His white beard was neatly trimmed. In fact, everything about him was neat and precise. In a severe voice he said, “Whether I can help, you, Frau Pfenstermacher, depends entirely upon what is wrong, which you have so far failed to tell me.”

“It's Susan. She's changed all of a sudden.”

Susan's father came stomping out of the house. His eyes were wild, his face desperate. “She's not cheerful and well-behaved like she always was, Dr. Dekter.”

“She's gotten mean!” added Mrs. Pfenstermacher.

“Nasty!” agreed Mr. Pfenstermacher.

“Rotten!” cried Mrs. Pfenstermacher.

“And she's started making bad puns!” moaned Mr. Pfenstermacher.

“Will you inspect her, Dr. Dekter?” asked Mrs. Pfenstermacher desperately.

The doctor shrugged. “It sounds like a simple case of puberty to me. But if you insist—”

“Oh, thank you, Dr. Dekter!” cried Mr. Pfenstermacher. He grabbed the doctor by the hand and began dragging him toward the house.

Before they had gone three steps, Susan came leaping out the front door. The index finger of her right hand was firmly planted in her nose.

“Dr. Dekter,” she cried. “Thank God you're here! My finger is stuck. It's stuck, I tell you—stuck, stuck, stuck and I'm going to die! Save me, doctor.
Save Me!”

With her left hand she grabbed her right wrist and began to pull at it.

“Look at that!” she shrieked. “It will never come loose. And all I wanted to do was get out that potato that I stuck up there last night. Oh, doctor, I'm sinking fast. Help me. Please help me!”

With that she threw herself to the ground and began to flop back and forth, screaming and making little choking noises. “Agh! Aaargh! Ack! Ack! Ack!” Gradually her voice grew softer and softer.

“The horror,” she whispered. “The horror.”

Then she lay stretched out straight on the ground, flat and unmoving.

She stayed that way for about three seconds, then she lifted her head and said, “Being stuck up was the death of me.”

“All right, you've had your fun, Susan,” said Dr. Dekter. “Stand up. I want to listen to your heart.”

He took her by the wrist and tried to pull her to her feet.

“Watch it, frost fingers!” shouted Susan, yanking her hand free. She scrambled to her feet and began to dust herself off. As she did, Dr. Dekter removed his stethoscope from the black bag that he always carried with him. No sooner had he put the ends of it into his ears than Susan grabbed the other end. Putting it to her mouth she shrieked, “Testing, testing, one, two, three! Doc, Doc, can you hear me?”

Dr. Dekter staggered backward and pulled the tubes from his ears. “Susan, stand still. I want to check your throat. Stick out your tongue, please.”

“Gladly!”

She grabbed the corners of her mouth and pulled them as far apart as she could. Then she stuck her tongue out so far it looked as if it might come loose at the other end. Dr. Dekter bent forward to examine her throat. As soon as he got close, she snapped her mouth shut.

“Ah ah ah, let's not get too personal, Doc. A girl's throat is private, you know.”

“Susan, open your mouth!”

Susan clamped her mouth shut and shook her head.

“Susan, I want to take your temperature.”

“Try it and you'll feel my temper, sir!”

“Now, Susan, don't you act like that.”

“Can't help it, I've become a brat! I'm such a brat, I'm such a brat you won't believe.”

“Susan, you are not a brat.”

“Yes I am, and that is that.”

“Will you stop making those stupid rhymes?” roared Dr. Dekter.

Susan turned around and wiggled her butt at him. Then she began to run in circles, making rude noises and shouting, “What's for supper? Booger stew! Some for me and some for you!”

When Dr. Dekter tried to grab her, his stethoscope fell off.

“A snake!” cried Susan. Shrieking with joy, she jumped on the black tubes. Suddenly she gasped in dismay. “Oh, dear! It's not a snake after all. It's Dr. Dekter's stethoscope!” She picked it up and handed it to him. “Here's your ears, Doc. Stop by again sometime.”

Then she went running into the house shrieking, “I hate bunnies! I hate bunnies! I want to bite their heads off!”

After she slammed the door, Susan's mother said desperately, “Can you correct her, Dr. Dekter?”

“NO!”

“But what should we do?” asked Susan's father.

“If I were you,” growled Dr. Dekter, “I would put her in a box and send her to Australia! Good day!”

With that he stomped away from the Pfenstermacher house.

The doctor hadn't gone more than fifty feet when he spotted a plump little woman sitting on the edge of the town fountain, sobbing hysterically and wiping her eyes with the edge of her apron.

“Well what's the matter with you?” he asked impatiently.

“Waaaaah!” replied Maybelle.

“Good heavens, woman, stop that horrible caterwauling and tell me what's wrong.”

“I'm Susan's godmother.”

“Ah, I see,” said the doctor. “Well, if I were you, I'd be crying too.”

“You don't understand,” sniffed Maybelle. “I'm her Fairy Godmother.”

“What in heaven's name are you talking about?”

“Well, for over a hundred and fifty years everything I've done has gone wrong. So Mr. Peters—he's my boss—he sent me to take care of Susan, because he figured I couldn't do too much harm to her, I guess. Only I did, because after I made the apple this happened, and now Edna will have to step in and then I'll lose my wings and I don't know what I'm going to… to… to do-o-o-o-o!”