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.