B.T. (Before Titania)

The call was low and mournful, echoing across the frozen wasteland. Eric shivered and glanced up at the unmoving sun.

"What was that?" he asked.

Werner shrugged. "Probably a unicorn. Help me set up the salt circle; we have to make sure the snow doesn't melt and disrupt it."

"A unicorn? Sounding like that?"

"Well, a woolly unicorn, yes. And that means there will be hunters. You remember who lives in Faerie, don't you?" Werner busied himself spreading the tarpaulin.

"The Fair Folk? Faeries?"

"Close," said Werner. "Remember, time really does move more slowly here. Try Asutraleopithicelfs, Cro-Goblins, and Gnomanderthals."

Imagine All the People

That morning, Burt had ignored them tying his shoelaces together and stealing his keys. He aimed for them on the road. It was silly, of course, trying to run over imaginary blue men the size of dolls, but it eased his burden to try.

Muller came by, dropping off a report. Burt noticed his eyes dart down to the desk, where the blue men were converting a stapler to a catapult. Burt goggled. “You see them!” he cried.

“Who?” said Muller, stricken.

“Wait,” said Jenkins from the next cube. “You two see them, too? I thought it was just me!”

Lord of the Greenwood

“So you’re a prince?” said Brian. “What are you the prince of?”

“I rule this wood, from the first oak to the last sapling!”

Brian glanced around. “That’s about three trees.”

“Insolent!” said the Prince. He waved tiny fists. “A dark cloud the size of an apple appeared. A minuscule lightning bolt flicked out, stinging Brian’s nose. “Teach this impudent whelp a lesson, minions of the forest!”

An elderly badger struggled from its burrow. Brian rubbed his nose as the badger solemnly gummed his sneakers. Brian glanced at the self-proclaimed monarch.

“There have been some regrettable cutbacks,” the Prince allowed.

The Fundamental Equivalence of Pixie Dust, an Electrical Socket, and the New Baco-Splosion Deluxe

Larry watched the elf blithely hand over a twenty-dollar bill. He didn’t even wait for change, but sashayed into the food court, plunking his tray down on a spindly-legged table. Larry followed more slowly.

“How did you do that?” he asked, sitting down as the elf bit into his Baco-Splosion Deluxe.

“Do what?” the elf mumbled, tiny mouth full.

“Pay for the food. You don’t have pockets. You don’t even have pants!”

“Oh, that,” the elf waved a thin-fingered hand. “It’s all the same. Magic is money, money is potential, potential is energy. I just manipulate the rates of exchange.”