The World's Worst Fairy Godmother

by Bruce Coville

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!”

  She began to wail again.

  “Come, come,” said Dr. Dekter gruffly. “It can’t be that bad. Now, let’s start again. You say you’re Susan’s godmother?”

  “Her fairy godmother,” sniffled Maybelle.

  “You mean, that’s how she thinks of you,” said Dr. Dekter reasonably.

  “No, that’s what I am. And I made a love apple to help her.” She held up an apple. “Here, I found it on the path. She must have dropped it. You can see where she took a bite. But it didn’t work. Somehow I created a m-m-m-monster!”

  Before Dr. Dekter could answer, Edna shot into view. She was holding up the hem of her dress and running as fast as she could. “Help!” she cried. “Save me!”

  Zozmagog was hot on her heels. “Wait for me, Dear Heart, morning sun, little dew drop of joy. Wait for me!”

  “Edna!” cried Maybelle in horror. “Oh, now what’s happened?” She turned to Dr. Dekter. “Here,” she said, thrusting the apple into his hand. “Take this.”

  Then she raced off after Edna and Zozmagog.

  Dr. Dekter sat on the edge of the fount
ain, blinking in astonishment. He began tossing the apple up and down as he went over everything that had happened from the time Mr. and Mrs. Pfenstermacher had stopped him. He looked back at the house. He looked down at where Maybelle had been sitting. He looked in the direction where everyone had run off.

  Finally he shrugged and absentmindedly took a bite of the apple.

  Instantly his eyes grew wide.

  “Wait!” he cried, springing to his feet. “Little pudgy woman, come back! I think I love you!”

  He paused. “Love her? How can I love her? I just met her! Besides, she’s so short!”

  He shook his head. “What does time matter? What does short matter? What does pudge matter? I love her!”

  And with that, Dr. Dekter raced off after Maybelle, Edna, and Zozmagog.

  Chapter Ten

  Zozmagog’s Secret

  Edna Prim was running in circles around a big tree, and she had just about had it.

  She had been horribly startled when the imp spotted her in the forest and began chasing her. But no mere imp was going to torment her like this. Stopping in her tracks, she turned around and drew herself up to her full height. Raising one hand, she snapped, “That will be about enough of that!”

  It was a voice that could have stopped a bull elephant, much less a mere imp. Zozmagog stopped so fast he nearly fell over. Then he stood stock still, staring up at her in astonishment.

  “All right just why are you chasing me?” asked Edna, in a tone that demanded he answer.

  “Because I love you,” Zozmagog moaned. “You are the sun and the moon and the stars. You are—”

  “Oh, angel feathers. Cut the baloney you little monster. Imps can’t fall in love.”

  “I have,” said Zozmagog. Then he tipped his head back and moaned helplessly. “I’m in loo-o-o-ove with a wonderful woman.”

  “Oh, sit down,” commanded Edna. “Now!”

  Zozmagog sat. At that moment, Zitzel came on the scene. When he saw what was going on, he hid behind a tree to listen. After all, it was possible the boss was working on some master prank. If he interrupted now, it could mean noogies for a week.

  “All right, describe this love,” said Edna, pronouncing the word love as if it tasted like mustard mixed with vinegar.

  Zozmagog made his thinking face. “Well, my insides are all jumbled up.” He put his hand on his chest. “And I have a burning sensation right here. My stomach is in a knot. Yet I feel all bubbly inside.”

  Edna snorted. “That’s not love, it’s heartburn. You’ve been eating too much spicy food.”

  Zozmagog threw back his head and howled mournfully.

  “Stop that!” said Edna. “It’s disgusting!”

  “Well it’s not easy being an imp in love.”

  “Not easy? It’s impossible! Magic can’t create love out of nothing. And imps have no love. So that apple couldn’t have affected you.”

  “But it did.” Zozmagog sprang to his feet. “Kiss me, or I shall die!”

  “What???”

  “Kiss me, you gorgeous tower of femininity!”

  He rushed toward Edna. She sidestepped him, and he ran into the tree.

  He was too much in love to notice. Spinning around, he began to chase her again, crying, “Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me!”

  They made another three or four circuits of the tree. Then Edna stopped, turned around, and rapped him sharply on the nose with her wand.

  “Owwww!” cried Zozmagog. “Ow! Ow! Ow! What did you do that for?”

  Grabbing his nose, he turned away from Edna and bent over, sobbing and moaning as if he was in blazing agony. Actually, his nose didn’t hurt that much. But he was hoping he might get some sympathy.

  He was barking up the wrong fairy godmother. Reaching forward, Edna grabbed his tail. “Straighten up!” she ordered, giving his tail a stiff tug.

  It broke off in her hand.

  She stared at the severed tail in horror. “Good heavens!” she shrieked. “What have I done?”

  Zozmagog spun around. “Give me that!” he cried, snatching the tail back from her. If anything, he was even more horrified than she was. He stared at the tail for a moment, then threw himself to the ground and began to roll around, moaning and groaning. Finally he looked up and said, “If you tell Zitzel about this I’ll never forgive you.” He paused for a moment, then added. “Of course, I’ll still love you. But I’ll never forgive you.”

  “But how could this happen?” asked Edna, who was feeling as guilty as if she had stepped on a kitten. Suddenly her eyes widened. “Wait a minute. Look at me.” She bent so that she was face to face with Zozmagog, who was desperately averting his eyes. “Look at me!” she said again, in a voice that left no room for disobedience.

  Zozmagog turned back and looked directly into her eyes.

  “Aha!” said Edna.

  He ducked his head. “All right,” he said mournfully. “You’ve guessed it. I’m not an imp. When I was born my fairy godmother delivered me to the wrong place.”

  “Impossible!” snorted Edna.

  “Just because you think something is impossible doesn’t mean it can’t be true. Anyway, the imps that got me were thrilled. They loved teaching me to be rotten.”

  Edna took a deep breath. “Then what you really are…”

  “Is a love-struck cherub,” moaned Zozmagog.

  Edna reached up. Snapping her fingers, she pulled a lace handkerchief from the air. She wet it with her tongue, then began to scrub at Zozmagog’s cheek.

  “Hey, watch it,” he said, trying to squirm away from her.

  “It’s true!” cried Edna, after she had cleaned off several layers of grub and grime. “You are a cherub!”

  “I told you,” said Zozmagog. “Anyway, those imps made my life so miserable that I vowed I would get revenge on the woman who did this to me.”

  “And who was that?” asked Edna.

  “Maybelle Clodnowski.”

  Edna let out a heavy sigh. “Suddenly all of this makes sense.” She sat down next to Zozmagog and put her arm around his shoulders. “You poor little cherub,” she said sadly.

  Zitzel was still watching from the bushes. “I think I’m gonna puke,” he muttered, holding his stomach.

  Suddenly Edna stood up. “Well, I’ll take care of this,” she said decisively. “Even if it does cost Maybelle her wings.”

  “Will you really?” asked Zozmagog.

  Edna snorted again. “I haven’t been fairy godmother of the year for a hundred and forty-seven years in a row for nothing, buster.”

  Zozmagog sighed. “You’re wonderful. I love you so much. What’s your name?”

  In the bushes, Zitzel was sticking his finger in his throat and pretending to vomit.

  “You know, I never wanted to be bad,” continued Zozmagog in a dreamy voice. “It was just the way they raised me. Naughtiness was the only thing I knew, until I met you.” Turning toward Edna, looking her right in the eyes, he said sincerely, “I was lonelier than you can ever know. My heart hurt so much that I finally put a wall around it. But when I saw you today, somehow that wall just crumbled.”

  A little tear trickled down his cheek.

  Edna reached out to brush the tear away. As she did, she felt a strange fluttering in her chest. Her eyes widened.

  “Oh, no!” she whispered in horror. “Not that! I can’t let that happen! Listen, you—”

  “My name is Zozmagog.”

  “Listen, Zozmagog. I need a wall around my heart. It saves me from chaos. If that wall starts ever starts to crack my career as a fairy godmother will be over. Please—don’t knock on a door that I don’t dare answer. Please.” She took a deep breath then said fiercely, “I want to help you. You’ve been terribly wronged, and it is my duty to give you assistance. But that’s all. A fairy godmother must never fall in love.”

  Zozmagog sighed heavily.

  “Look,” said Edna primly. “We’ll find a cure for the effects of that apple. Then you’ll be just fine.” />
  “But I don’t want to be cured!” cried Zozmagog. Suddenly he sat straight up, and his eyes went wide. “Wait a minute! ! What about that poor girl who got my apple? I feel awful about that.”

  Edna looked at him nervously. “What are you talking about?”

  Quickly Zozmagog explained to her about the crab apple he had made for Susan.

  “Well, that certainly does complicate things,” said Edna disapprovingly. “But with your help, I’m sure I can disenchant the poor girl.”

  “It won’t be easy,” said Zozmagog. “The spell can only be broken one way. She has to tell someone she loves them.”

  Edna gasped. “But if she’s so cranky and crabby—”

  “Exactly,” said Zozmagog glumly. “And that’s not the worst of it.”

  “There’s more?” asked Edna sharply.

  Zozmagog looked away, embarrassed.

  “Zozmagog,” said Edna, “what have you done?”

  The cherub-in-disguise sighed. “Susan is contagious. Any kid who comes into close contact with her is going to catch the spell and start acting in the same incredibly bratty way.”

  “Gracious,” cried Edna, “you were nasty, weren’t you! I’ll have to see that spell, and quick! Come on!”

  Grabbing Zozmagog by the hand, she pulled him to his feet.

  Zozmagog started to lead her in the direction of the cave.

  Zitzel was about to follow when someone grabbed him from behind.

  Chapter Eleven

  Susan’s Rampage

  “Gotcha!” cried Susan happily. “Gotcha, gotcha, gotcha!”

  “Let go!” cried Zitzel, squirming wildly.

  Susan just laughed.

  “What do you want?” asked Zitzel, still squirming. He was surprised at how strong she was.

  “What do I want? I want to cause trouble! I want to bug people! I want to be rude, nasty, and generally socially unacceptable.”

  Zitzel began to smile. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all.

  “Let go of me and I can help you!” he said.

  Susan let go. Then she gave him a noogie. “I’ll tell you what I like,” she said. “I like spittin’, cussin’, and fightin’.”

  “Hey, me too!” said Zitzel.