Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Sunday, December 13, 2009

The Retailers Pixie ... Revisited

If there is such a thing as reincarnation, I'd like to drop my name in the box for Pixies.
Pixie...a fairylike or elfin creature, especially mischievous. A playful sprite.
Toothfairies, flowerfairies & the sandman all have a good life... but perhaps, just a little too good for me.

All this peace & love needs a little spit & fire.

I'd build my wings from sticks & twigs. I hold them together with sap & spit. I'd proudly flaunt about completely topless & I would never, ever wear shoes. I'd grow my hair long & I wouldn't really brush it. I'd be a professional. Much like the toothfairie, I would have a area that I catered to.

Living my life as a Pixie, I would traipse in & out of people's homes, cars & places of employment...

I wouldn't visit everyone, of course, as everyone is not well-deserved of a fine, morally upstanding, professional, long-haired, barefooted, topless Pixie-on-a-mission. I would visit all the people who had once visited me & I would leave a trail, just as they had done.

I would bop in on the I-Can't-Read-Nor-Use-A-Measuring-Tape-But-Can-Tell-If-Its-The-
Right-Size-By-Looking-At-It persons' house & I would unravel every spool of thread, every bundle of rope & every dispenser of tape... just to see if I too, could measure with my eyes & mind.

I would pilfer through cupboards, stacking plates upon bowls, placing cups in pots & I'd put the lids to said pots on the mantle to the fireplace.
I would go into linen closets, remove pillow cases from their matching sheet sets & place them in the garage with the lawn equipment.
I would remove the lid from the gas tank on the lawn mower & place it in the socks & underwear drawer.
I would take one sock & do some spot cleaning in the bathroom with it.
I would remove half the screws from the bathroom fixtures & move the toothbrush holder to the backdoor, placing it right on the ground by Fido's bowl.
I would fill Fido's bowl with crystal beads, stolen from a garland which I found & disassembled.
I would take the peppermill & seasalt grinder & I would grind salt & pepper onto the coffee table & the maybe I'd dabble my initials in it.
I would take all books off of the coffee table & place them on the floor.
I would open umbrellas & put them in the center of the room, along with any mail I might find.
I'd pull one slice of cheese, one egg, one link of sausage out of their packets & place them on the floor right in front of the refrigerator.
I would unscrew pump lotions & squirt a little bit on the counter, then I would smear my fingers through it. A little dab will do.
I would take pictures off of the wall & place them on the furniture, hoping not to scratch any wood.
If I had a Pixie-child, I would let her chew on candles or cashmere sweaters, they seem to be such wonderful replacements for teething rings when consumers are shopping at christmastime. I'd let her play fingerpaint in the syrup ...and she would be more than welcome to leave her sticky little fingerprints wherever she saw fit
Every now & again, I would nibble on some food...taking, say one bite, out of a loaf of fresh-baked bread or a corner off of a Belgium candy bar...yum!yum! and then I'd tuck that nibbled on evidence under a bed pillow in the spare room
I would take apart Parker ink pens to see if the ink looked different & then I would scribble on pretty Victorian stationary sets or past due bills to see if they write differently.
I'd take car keys off of the rings & hang them from ribbons.
I'd re-organize alphabetical files according to my mood.
I'd open glove compartments & trunks & I'd leave them open, maybe I'd put the tissue in the trunk and the spare on the floorboard. I'd flick on all the interior lights, put the wipers on high and turn the radio up full that when the key is turned some folks would rattle and roll.

Oh, I would be such a good little Pixie...
All in good fun, no harm meant & no money spent.
Much like the shoppers at Christmastime.