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A Pixie's Guinea Pig
It’s no fun being a pixie’s guinea pig.
Though I do consider myself strong,
Strength is futile when inexperienced pixies
Are prone to get spells horribly wrong.
This is most common with a pixie child
Who practices spells with her wand.
She tried to turn my black fur brown twice
Only to turn it pink and then blonde.
Those types of mishaps don’t bother me
Since they are harmless and easy to fix.
But those situations become less pleasant
When more complicated spells enter the mix.
The pixie once tried to give me the ability
To speak fluently in latin or english
But I ended up flopping on the ground
Because she turned me into a fish.
Or she’d try to give me fairy wings to fly
So that she could play with me in the air
Only for me to get the wings of a bat
Which gave the poor girl a scare.
Or she’d try to shrink me down some
So that she could carry me in her arms.
Only for me to grow as big as an elephant
To every pixie and guinea pig’s alarm.
Or she’d try to conjure up a pretty dress
And a bow for me to wear on her birthday,
Only for me to be teleported to a bird’s nest
Atop a very tall tree, to my great dismay.
Or she’d try to turn me into other animals.
She once tried to turn me into a goose.
But of course that didn’t work out at all.
She ended up turning me into a moose.
It’s no fun being a pixie’s guinea pig
Because her spellcasting can be fickle.
But to her credit, she is improving
So maybe she’ll stop getting me in a pickle.
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