by Dawn Knox
eggnog
Mrs Furbelow withdrew a booklet from her handbag and
slapped it on the desk with a triumphant snort.
“This says your academy is inclusive and non-discriminatory.”
Miss Scrapp, the head of the Academy of Christmas Employment
sighed.
“I understand your frustration Mrs Furbelow but I’m afraid
that doesn’t change my decision. Your son is not a suitable candidate for the
Christmas Tree Fairy course. We would, of course, be delighted to accept him on
to the module for Christmas Elves.
“But he has his heart set on being the fairy on top of the
Christmas tree. Don’t you, Sid?” Mrs Furbelow’s son began to sob.
“I’m sorry,” said Miss Scrapp, holding her hands palm upwards
in resignation, “It’s out of the question. Sidmouth simply isn’t
suitable.”
“But you’re not allowed to turn him down because he’s male.
It’s illegal,” Mrs Furbelow said, her mouth set in a straight
line.
“I assure you his gender has nothing to do with my decision.
I am basing that more on his youth. And our Christmas Tree Fairies usually
display more… um… well, daintiness than Sidmouth offers.”
“Oh!” said Mrs Furbelow nodding her head from side to side,
“So, you’re ageist and shapist, are you?”
“No! Not at all! It’s a question of health and safely.
Sidmouth is rather young to be standing at the top of a tree for hours. Our
Christmas Fairies are usually older and… um… slightly taller for their… um…
girth.”
“Are you saying my Sidmouth is fat?”
“Absolutely not! But his body shape would be a
problem.”
“Well it’s never been a problem before!”
“No, I’m sure in most walks of life, it’s fine but being
wider than you are tall would make it rather difficult to sit on the top of a
Christmas Tree.”
“Nevertheless, my son deserves a chance…”
Miss Scrapp leaned her chin on her steepled fingers and
sighed. “Very well,” she said, rising from her desk, “Please follow
me.”
Mrs Furbelow shot her son a triumphant look and he smirked.
“There, there!” said Mrs Furbelow, dabbing the tears
running down Sidmouth’s cheeks, “it’s only a tiny bump on your head. I’m sure
it’ll be gone by tomorrow.”
Miss Scrapp sat silently watching mother and son. It wasn’t
like she hadn’t warned them. She’d expected the top of the slender tree to bend
under Sidmouth’s weight but she hadn’t imagined it would lean right over. Poor
Sidmouth had clung on for as long as he could but his forelimbs weren’t designed
to grip trees. He’d plummeted shortly after, hit the floor and bounced
once.
“So, Sidmouth,” said Miss Scrapp, “would you like me to enrol
you on the Christmas Elves course?”
The young frog shook his head and sniffed, “No thank you,
Miss. I don’t s’pose you could enrol me on the plumbing course, could
you?”
About the author
Dawn enjoys writing in
different genres and has had romances, speculative fiction, sci-fi, humorous and
women’s fiction published in magazines, anthologies and books. She’s also had
two plays about World War One performed internationally. Her current work in
progress is a story set in Bletchley Park during World War Two. You can follow
her here on https://dawnknox.com , Facebook
here DawnKnoxWriter or on Twitter here https://twitter.com/SunriseCalls
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