Maab is my first FC to name herself. She was simply the Photobomb Fairie until she began to talk. When she called herself “Mab” the first time, someone pointed out that her name has been used by Shakespeare and others, and hardly original. It turns out that Mab is as common a name among Fairies as Taylor is in cheerleading.
No one remembers how the second A landed in the middle of her name, I’m guessing a typo. But Maab liked it and told everyone to call her Maab, and that she would hear it if you omitted either A.
Physically, Maab is four inches long, mostly iridescent green and is a very attractive mix of a Dragonfly and a Tinkerbell sort of person. Like everyone else, Maab moves at various speeds, but unlike the rest of us she is able to hop dimensions and seemingly disappear from common sight and yet still be “there” when captured by a camera–hence the title Photobomb Fairie.
Maab doesn’t do much dimension hopping nowadays because they do not serve Mai Tais and Gin Blossoms anywhere else but in this assortment of dimensions which constitute “reality.” For a four incher Maab can really put down a Mai Tai. That’s because she’s a “Magickian” (Maab’s spelling, and trust me she listens for the K), able to consume hundreds of times her body weight in alcohol without ever needing to pee. But booze affects her in other ways.
When buzzed, our little Magickian tells charming tales of her times back in Cottingley; when polluted, our little Magickian excels at gleaning criticism from silence and insult from conversations she is not a party to. These are not good things to have in a mind able to use a magick wand.
So one of us keeps track of Maab’s consumption rate and we listen for the little tells in her voice which precede her little acts of hostility. My pal Renfield is expert at de-wanding the Fairie, who usually gets sulky and verbally abusive until someone plugs Amy Winehouse into the Unsteady Jukebox beside the bar in my office.
Imagine Alvin and the Chipmunks singing:
“They tried to make me go to rehab,
But I said, no no no–
I know I’ve been black
But when I get back, you’ll know know know…”
Anyway she’ll just sing and sing and sing that, no matter what song is on the unsteady jukebox, until she passes out and either Renfield or I put her to bed in the cigar box located on the top shelf of my bookcase.
To date Maab has yet to follow through on threats to turn me into a Toad. I think that there are far worse things than being a Toad. One of those things must be someone who takes my decidedly non-pc attitude towards alcohol and drug use seriously. Then again, since all of you are grown ups who have noticed that this is a Feeble Fable and obviously not an attempt to ruin the minds of those rancid little creeps some call “the future,” there’s probably no need to add this part, but I’m going to anyway.
I now present a play within a play within a play:
Maab and the Rehabilitationist: A Feeble Fable of the Fantasmagorical
Our Cast of Players
The Rehabilitationist Spirit…………………………………..Renfield
The Assistant Director……………………………..Flo the Trade Rat
Pie-Eyed Peety the PDQ PILSNER PIGEON……………….Himself
Aristotle the Winged Iberain Ibex as “Toady”
“Yee-haw, drunk again,” said Maab the Photobomb Fairie. She was abed in a cigar box which had a quilt, mattress and pillow cut and sewn from fleece. She pulled the lid and sank deeply into the wild dreamworld experienced only by tiny drunk Magickians.
Maab found herself saddled on Toady the Winged Iberian Ibex. Toady was grazing in a field of magick mushrooms and not inclined to fly, despite Maab’s urgings to the contrary, until the hallucinations kicked in.
“Sorry, Maab,” said Toady. “I don’t fly until I see alligator lizards in the air.”
Still just as plastered to her tiara as she was in the cigar box, Maab lost her temper and began to rap on Toady’s horns with her prop wand.
“Insolence!” Maab screeched, “Get aloft anon, you dirty sonofabitch–No, no wait, I didn’t mean it. I love you, Ari, I love you…man…”
“Psst, Maab,” called out the Assistant Director of the Fable, Flo the Trade Rat, “His name is Toady.”
“Insolent rodent,” Maab bellowed. “I’m a profesh-null, I know my fucking lines…don’t feed em to me till I call for them…”
Time, made longer by an awkward silence, passed.
“LINE!!!” Maab finally yelled.
“Squ-wack–’Have you ever seen a grown man naked?’ The Captain, Airplane,” said Pie-Eyed Peety the PDQ Pilsner Pigeon, who had wandered onto the set for no good reason.
At this point in the production all hell broke loose on the set. Everyone began shouting at once and Maab was alternating between threatening to turn everyone into a this or a that, and professing weepy, sloppy affections for all. And to make matters worse, A Rehab Spirit appeared and began substance abuse shaming the cast and crew.
“Silence!” The Spirit bellowed. For whatever dark reason, he’d manifested himself as Doug Neidermeyer, a card carrying uber-A-hole from the film Animal House . “You all should be ashamed of yourselves. Worthless and weak! An Ibex seeking to escape the cliffside of life via hallucinogens; a magick entity who conjures only chaos and verbal abuse; a supervisor who’s obviously gnawing on a peyote bulb and a perpetually polluted cartoon Pigeon who wastes his life finding wisdom in raunchy 80’s films…”
“Squ-wack, ‘My God, the boy’s deformed’–Cherry Forever, Porky’s…”
“That’s just what I mean,” the haughty ghost continued. “You’re too blasted to reference the right movie. Worthless and weak! Look at yourselves, you are all worthless and weak…”
The Rehab Spirit (a close relative of a spectre known as a “Prohibitionist”) went on and on, but all the while Flo had snuck off to the wand cabinet and brought back Maab’s tool of menace.
“If you would, milady,” Flo said, after climbing aboard Toady and handing the loaded wand to Maab, still in the saddle, who happily tossed aside the useless prop wand.
“It’ll be muh plesshrure, Ratty-girl ol’ pal oh mine. Help me aim this thing, would ya?”
It took three shots but Flo helped Maab turn the Rehab Spirit into a statue of Dr. Phil composed of horse manure.
Amoral: Gimme 12 Steps, Just Twelve Steps, Mister, And You Won’t See Me No More
9 thoughts on “99 Maab and the Rehab Spirit: A Feeble Fable of the Fantasmagorical By Leila Allison”
See – I always knew the Cottingley fairies were real. I didn’t realist what little beesoms they were though. Good to know, good to know. Excellent stuff Leila.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. It’s a little known fact that Fairies can be as ill-tempered as Hell’s Angels when in their cups.
“Alligator Lizard” sounds like somethig from “A Horse With No Name”* which has my favorite triple negative “Ain’t No One For To Give You No Pain”.
* Looked up Horse to get the triple negative right. Found that alligator lizard was from a different America song – Ventura Highway.
Brain firing on 3.7 cylinders.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Doug.
Your brain is hitting on all cylinders. That line about alligator lizards has stuck in my mind since the first time I heard the song. Also, “I tried to make it Sunday, but I got so damned depressed” from Sister Golden Hair has never been far from mind
What happened to America works on multiple levels.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Welcome, Maab, to the ckompany of plaayers! I enjoyed all the pop culture references. It must be about time somebody gave that horse a naame. Good piece.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, David.
Maab rules…if only in the desert where nobody double negatives her pain…
There ought to be a college course that explains America lyrics.
LikeLiked by 1 person
What can I say??
As I always do when I first see one of your stories, I scribble some notes – So for transparency and all that:
– I’ve never had a Gin Blossom, I’ll need to give it a go. Tonight I’m on Gwen’s Fig And Blood Orange Greenall’s Gin…She’ll kill me tomorrow when she gets in!!
Give it a go, it’s a love hate type drink.
– With Maab’s bladder capacity, she’d make a cracking lager drinker. My brother-in-law can go nine pints before he starts peeing. Me, I’m a wimp, five and I’m a waterfall.
– I wonder…If you were a toad, would you like being licked???
…Let’s not go into the where’s! (Should there be an a apostrophe there??)
– Peter Grave – I love that being such an icon on MIP, he was willing to do this!
– Mark Metcalf, seen him in a ‘Twisted Sister’ video. Loved his ‘Pledddge Pinnn’ line in Animal House!
– I tip my hat to you for the ‘My God, the boy’s deformed line’!!!!!!!!!!!!!
– I love Maab’s drunk speak. I reckon that took years of research!
– And the Twelve Steps – Cutting / Perceptive / Sarcastic / Realistic / Helpful / Insulting…One or all!!!!
Oh just hearing E=MC2 (I can’t get the two wee and high!) by ‘Big Audio Dynamite’. I forgot how much I love that tune!
When I first was old enough to order drinks I decided to try (not all in one night mind you) all the drinks I had heard of but had little idea what they contained. One night I ordered Mai Tai and liked it so much I had three or four more. The I made the mistake of ordering a Gin Blossom. It didn’t play well with the Mai Tai and I rode in the cab home with my head out the window like a dog. Still like Mai Tai, never touched another gin blossom, but I do enjoy a Gordon’s and tonic now and again. Thank you and happy new year!