Beatrix Bobbit and the Thanksgiving Fairy

"Are you sure it's supposed to be so sludgey?" Beatrix's younger sister, Sybil, asked, scrunching her freckled nose. Even with sludge on her pink cheeks, Sybil looked cheerful.

Beatrix checked her notes for the Fairy Summoning Recipe and nodded. "The only mention of consitency said it should be thick."

Looking at the black muddy cauldron, Beatrix felt encouraged, it not a little grossed out. But she didn't want Sybil to see her with her grossed out face.

"Do you have the potatoes, Sybie?" Beatrix asked.

Sybil giggled in response, and leapt to her feet, dancing on tip toes through the moss to the blackened log where they'd been hiding ingredients for weeks while they waited for the full moon.

"Tell me again why we need potatoes for a spelllllll," Sybil wiggled her eyebrows and worked tremendously hard not to laugh.

As usual, she was unsuccessful.

And, as usual, Beatrix didn't mind. Her sister had more than enough cheer for everyone in the family. And all of the families nearby. Maybe even enough for the next towns over.

The branches overhead rustled in an invisible breeze, and something skittered under the log as an owl hooted close by. It seemed they were not the only ones brought out by the promise of the full moon.

"Because, Sybie, it's a Thanksgiving Fairy we wish to summon, and what's more Thanksgiving than a potato?" Beatrix took the handful of small red and purple potatoes from Sybil, and dumped them one by one in the cauldron of sludge.

It bubbled and swallowed each in quick succession. Then, a giant bubble formed on the surface.

"You know what mom would say is more Thanksgiving than a potato?" Sybil asked, prancing around the cauldron in a way that always made Beatrix dizzy.

"Definitely not a cauliflower turkey," Beatrix pulled her long purple cloak over her mouth when the cauldron emitted a burp.

"She ate it! Dad too, but I'm pretty sure he fed most of his to Penny," Sybil was crouched down behind a tree studying something on the ground. "Do you think our Toadstool friends are around?"

"They're probably choosing to be something other than Toadstools or Thanksgiving helpers this year," Beatrix said, but of course she'd been thinking of them.

When Beatrix had accidentally sent their Thanksgiving feast crashing to the kitchen floor, she'd run out into the woods before her family saw her cry. There, she'd encountered the friendliest Toadstools who'd marched her back home and saved Thanksgiving.

Beatrix shook the memory away, and focused on the potion which had burped not once, not twice, but three times now.

"Sybie, the Moon water!"

Sybil squealed and launched herself into a cartwheel until she reached the clear patch of moss drenched in silver moonlight. There, Sybil grabbed the glass pitcher and sprinted forward, not spilling a single drop until she tipped it into the bubbling potion.

"Those burps sound familiar," Sybil looked at Beatrix and both sisters giggled together.

It was very unlike Beatrix to giggle, but something about the sludge and the moonlight and the memory of their Midnight Thanksgiving was making Beatrix uncharacterisitcally giggly.

Maybe she had messed up the potion. Maybe this was a Giggle Inducer.

When nothing happened for some time, Beatrix and Sybil huddled together on the cool black log, draped under an orange blanket that smelled like rabbit fur.

Eventually, Sybil dozed off on her shoulder, so only Beatrix was keeping dutiful watch of the bubbling, belching cauldron of sludge.

When a cloud covered half of the full moon, and the sounds of the woods included more scampering and whooshing than even Beatrix was comfortable with, she tugged her sister awake. Together, they walked home, blanket draped over their shoulders, Beatrix's twig wand raised the whole way.

They took off their muddy boots in the garden and left them to dry by the carrots, then opened the creaking back door. As they traversed the black and white tiles to the tune of Mr. Bobbit's snores, Beatrix tried not to let Sybil see her disappointment.

Once upstairs and tucked into their respective beds, Sybie said, "It was a good sludge. We can try again, maybe summon a Christmas Fairy."

"I just don't know what went wrong," Beatrix shot up in her bed by the window.

But Sybil was curled on her side, one hand strewn across her eyes.

It took a little while, but eventually Beatrix found sleep too.

...

The next morning was bright and sunny. Beatrix's least favorite kind of day, but, of course, it was Sybil's favorite, so Beatrix attempted not to groan too loudly.

"BEATRIX, DEAR! SYBIL, DEAR!" Mrs. Bobbit's voice called from downstairs.

Reluctantly, Beatrix sat up, and threw the covers off. Sybil looked at her and shrugged. At their bedroom door, they donned robes -- black velvet for Beatrix, fluffy pink adorned with bows for Sybil -- and silently descended the stairs.

"Mom? Do you need something?" Sybil said as they shuffled into the kitchen.

"I should say not, Sybil, dear, but when did you and Beatrix do all of this?" Mrs. Bobbit was wearing her favorite yellow floral apron and gesturing to the countertops crowded with steaming biscuits, bowls of root vegetables and the largest turkey Beatrix had ever seen.

"AHHHHHH IT WORKED BEA!" Sybil screeched and grabbed Beatrix's shoulders, urging her to jump up and down with her.

"What worked, Beatrix, dear?" Mrs. Bobbit asked with a sigh as she tucked her wispy pale hair behind her ears.

"We don't know that--" Beatrix started, but was interrupted by Mr. Bobbit shouting in the garden.

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER! Quick, Judy, girls, she's got Penny!" Mr. Bobbit was practically bellowing, which was so unlike Mr. Bobbit, they all three rushed outside in bare feet.

Where they were greeted with the sight of Mr. Bobbit weilding a sunflower stalk as a weapon while he swatted at a small orange fairy wearing a brown dress.

The fairy in question who "got" Penny was wrapping a vine of red and orange leaves around Penny's neck.

"There, isn't that better, rabbit?" The fairy said, putting her small hands on her hips. "That mean man didn't want you to dress for the occassion. Wiggle your nose if you want me do something to him," the fairy leaned in closer to Penny.

"Why. I. Never--" Mr. Bobbit's mustache was damp with spit.

Despite the complete absurdity of the scene, Beatrix felt the need to intervene. In case Mr. Bobbit traded that sunflower stalk for a shovel.

"Um, hello. Who are you?" Beatrix asked, immediately regretting it.

"Are you our Thanksgiving Fairy?" Sybil bounded closer to the fairy, springing happily on her toes.

"Well, I'm not yours. But I have been summoned, and so here I am at your Thanksgiving service," the fairy brought her hands to her skirt, and bent both legs before twirling.

Suddenly, Mr. Bobbit shoved in front of Beatrix, completely out of breath. He straightened his crooked mustache. "Thanksgiving fairy, did you say? Can I make my wish of you now?"

"That's not how it--" The Thanksgiving fairy began before she finally caught sight of Beatrix shaking her head and arms and mouthing, "Play along."

"Why yes, of course," the fairy beamed in a cloud of orange sparkling dust. "You rabbit headed fool." She mumbled so quietly Beatrix hoped Mr. Bobbit couldn't hear.

"Excellent. Excellent, really. Last year we had a cauliflower turkey. Can you imagine! Now if you'll come with me, I'll show you my plan," Mr. Bobbit scooped Penny up with creaking knees and shuffled quickly to the back door, holding it open for the Thanksgiving Fairy.

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Bobbit said once the fairy and Mr. Bobbit and Penny had disappeared inside.

"What? I think it's cute dad has a Thanskgiving wish," Sybil said, and Beatrix nodded her agreement.

"I just hope we'll be able to get the smell out," Mrs. Bobbit sighed loudly, worrying her hands together.

"Turkey smells good," Beatrix said, but Mrs. Bobbit was shaking her head.

"It does," Mrs. Bobbit sighed. "Pickled herring does not."