Tales from the Shark Tank

Part of my son’s homework today was to illustrate the phrase “catch a bus”.

He drew a figure leaning back against a taut rope, the other end of which was tied to a bus.  I’d heard of calf-roping, but bus-roping?

And then he wondered why I laughed so hard.

“You know the rules! You’re not to include yourself in the illusions.” The young woman was clearly set to lecture her opponent. He cut her off. “I have not included myself. I am a dragon. And you, my dear, are a virgin. The scent is quite clear. Now, shall we complete the competition, or go directly to dinner?”

“Dinner, I think. Just let me change my dress.” Her arms swept up, becoming scarlet wings shading into iridescent scales. “You’re right, by the way.” she went on conversationally. “I am a virgin. I’d been told that’s what you were looking for.”

With thanks to my friend K. for the title.

It’s traditional. At a princess’s christening, one offended fairy pronounces a curse instead of a blessing. Fenland was no exception. Stygia appeared with a rumble of thunder, proclaiming “Her name is Ann Phibia.”

It was anticlimactic.

Ann grew as her fairy gifts promised, intelligent, kind and (of course) beautiful. At 16, her ball fell into a pond. A crowned frog returned it, requesting a kiss in exchange. “The spell will break and we can marry.” he said.

She remembered the stories, shrugged, and kissed him.

Ann vanished in a brilliant flash. A second crowned frog appeared.

They croaked their vows.