The Fairy God-Stud

by Lisa Tyler ©2007

(The original story was written just before 2000, and this version was written today, October 16th, 2007)


There was a loud pop closely followed by a cough of smoke, as a billowing cloud of non-odorous smut appeared in the living room of Kiercey’s flat. 

“Cough-cough!” A dark skinned arm waved the smoke aside and stepped closer to where the scowling girl stood.  Kiercey had been carrying an armload of her dirty laundry to the back room to be washed.  She didn’t look pleased at all.

The black man, dressed in a ballerina’s tutu with a star studded Christmas garland draped around his torso, curtsied and brandished his wand gallantly, announcing “Sorrow no more, for I, your Fairy God-Stud, have come to bring you love.”

Kiercey shook her head with disgust and continued on to the laundry room.  The fairy followed behind her, looking very perplexed.

“What, you’re not glad to see me?  I’m your Fairy God-Stud, woman!”  He managed to get in front of her and look her in the eye.  She reached past him to stuff the clothing into the machine.

“I know.  You visited my sister last year, and you can keep your wand in your pants!”

Caught off guard, the Arsenio Hall look-a-like thrust the shiny wand behind him.  “The paternity test proved it wasn’t me!  …But you’re scheduled for some love this week, and I’m here to deliver it.” 

He followed Kiercey back into the living room, waddling awkwardly in his size 14 basketball shoes.  The little pants under the tutu rode up uncomfortably into his crotch.

Gathering some of his pride, he stood upright and thrust out his chin. “Now what will it be?  A millionaire?  A movie star?  Lawyer with a yacht?”  The fairy was beginning to get excited, rubbing his hands together with delight.

Kiercey, a no-nonsense, single, career girl who had her life mapped out in 3-year stages, didn’t feel that there was room in her life for a serious relationship at the moment, and it certainly wouldn’t come from this fairy-school reject if there were.

At the same time, there was something about the ridiculous outfit and bare hairy legs that softened her attitude just a little.  Perhaps she’d play along with him for a while, see what he might offer.

Trying to hide her smile, she said, “What exactly are you capable of doing for me, if I were to be interested?”  She stood with her hands on her hips in tight jeans and a faded green blouse.

Happy at last to have her attention, he began to list possible boyfriends by type and career, bank account and hobbies.

“I can get you hooked up with anyone in categories 3 through 7 but you can’t have a beach bum or accountant.  Wouldn’t do well with your personality, and we’re all out of beach bums anyway since the Survivor TV shows came out.”

He really did look like Arsenio Hall, right down to the way he held one hand over the other in a mock effeminate pose.  “Maybe,” she thought, “that’s why they call gay men, ‘fairies’.”

“So like why are you the one who gets picked to deliver me my dream boat?  You don’t look like you could whip up a cup of coffee by yourself.”

“It’s a long story, girl, I don’t know if you’d want to hear it.  Let’s just say I AM the best, but I’ve been having a bad hair day.”

“And the clothes?”

“All my suits are in the wash”, he answered wryly, “any more questions, or can we get on with it?”

“Do I get three wishes?” Kiercey asked.

“Do I look Arabian?  You get to pick the man of your dreams and what the two of you do after that is your business. anything else develops,” the Fairy God-Stud grinned showing all of his pearly white teeth, “can I watch?”

Kiercey scowled and threw a sofa pillow at him.   “What is your name, anyway?”

“Cosumot.  Ever heard of it?”

“Not around here, but then I don’t fly in fairy circles.”

He cut his eyes sideways at her, wondering if she had intended an insult.

 “So okay, what is it you’d like to do with your life?  Want to go to Africa and help the starving?  I can get you a deal on a doctor with a heart!”

“God no!  Do I look like I’d enjoy Africa?”  She looked down at her dainty hands and almost perfect nail enamel, and imagined building a hut out of mud and straw.  Her whole body shivered at the thought.

“I’m not really sure I want to find the man of my dreams, Cosumot.  I’m pretty happy as it is.  How about just someone to spend a little time with now and then?”

“No problem.”  Cosumot waved both hands in front of him and the room again filled with smoke.  Standing before them was a tall, dark haired man posing and smiling as if he had just come from an underwear catalog. 

Kiercey shook her head, “No.”

The Fairy God-Stud whipped his right arm twice up and down and the man vanished.  Waving them horizontally again, this time the smoke produced a studious man with a kind face, holding a book in one hand and a potted plant in the other.

The man spoke, “Is this where I’m spending my vacation?  Hello?”

Seeing the young woman shaking her head again, Cosumot chopped the air quickly, sending the little man away.  Kiercey frowned.

“Don’t worry, I’m a little rusty maybe, but I’ve got your perfect type here…” he rubbed his brow just a little nervously.

“Look, Fairy God Mother, …” Kiercey began.

“Excuse me?  Do I look like your mother?”  Cosumot interrupted her.

“I want to think on it a bit longer ok?  So just get out, I’m late for an appointment.”  She shoed him towards the door and despite his protests, managed to push him out into the hallway. 

His loud pleading caught the attention of the older couple in the apartment across the hall.  Opening their door, they came face to face with the man in the tutu.  The old lady shrieked, closed the door quickly, and locked it against the world.

Still determined, Cosumot rubbed his chin and took a few steps down the hall before he vanished in a small puff of smoke.


Kiercey wasn’t due at her mother’s church bazaar for another 3 hours, but there was plenty to do to get ready.  She sighed deeply and moved away from the door, back into the little flat that was her home sweet home.  It may not have been much to look at, but it was all hers, paid for by her own efforts and no man was going to muscle in on her joy now.

As she began washing the old flower vases to donate to the bazaar, the phone rang.  Probably her mother, Kiercey thought.

“Hello?”  She spoke into the phone while drying her hands on the dishtowel hung on the fridge handle.

“Hello, is this Kiercey of the light blue eyed lagoons?  I’m Darien, your suave and debonair companion for this evening…” The sickly sweet voice was cut off quickly by the phone’s jarring slam back into its cradle.

“How DARE he do this to me!” Kiercey fumed.  Her fists were balled up and ready to fight him if he came choking and puffing his smut back into HER house.

Before she could settle down and return to the sink, the doorbell rang.  Stomping her feet to the living room door, Kiercey was determined to take off the head of the next “contestant for her love” or Cosumot, whichever appeared first.

To her amazement, as she yanked the door open, a very bewildered George Clooney, the actor, stood uncertainly before her.  He pushed his fingers through disheveled hair and apologized to her.

“Ma’am I’m very sorry to bother you, but may I please use your telephone?” He asked.

Kiercey looked both ways down the hallway to make sure they were alone, then allowed him to enter.  She led him over to the phone and moved off a short distance to see what was going to happen next.

He dialed a number with shaking fingers, then glanced nervously back at her, apologizing again.  The person on the other end picked up.

“Al!  This is George, and I need…. no, Al!!!  Listen to me, this IS George!  I’m not…I know, I’m not in L.A. anymore. That’s what I’m trying to tell you Al.  I need help.”  He lowered his voice, glancing back at Kiercey again, who was pretending to be disinterested.  It was hard to be convincing with eyes as wide as hers, though.

“Al…,” the actor’s voice broke, holding back a sob.  “I think I’ve been abducted by aliens.  I had just pulled into the parking lot at the studio and was getting out of my car.  There was a flash and some smoke, and the next thing I knew, I was standing outside of a door.  I’m in some …nice lady’s apartment…” he glanced back at Kiercey with a smile, hoping she wasn’t going to scream or have him committed for what he was saying.

After a pause, he shouted into the phone, “NO!  I haven’t been drinking, I’m telling you the truth….  What do you mean the caller ID says I’m in New York?  That’s what I was telling you!  I’ve been kidnapped…”

Before he could get any more agitated, Kiercey gently took the phone from his hands, and said, “I’m so sorry Mr. Clooney, this is really my fault and if you’ll just sit down for a moment, I’ll have you back home as quickly as possible.”

The usually strong and confident actor was close to a break down as she led him to the couch.

“Well, it’s actually not MY fault,” she explained, “but I’m seriously going to wring the neck of the guy who IS responsible.”

“You can wring God’s neck?  Or the Aliens…?” George asked, his voice trailing off into even more disbelief.

“Excuse me a minute, Mr. Clooney.”  Kiercey turned away from him to shout at the top of her lungs.  “COSUMOT!!!  Get back here this minute!!!”

Nothing happened.  George wasn’t sure if he should run for the door or hide behind the couch.

Kiercey began yelling again, “Cosumot, if you don’t get back here this minute, I’m going to report you to whatever authority you have to answer to.  I’m going to make such a stink for you that you’ll wish you’d never heard of me!”

Before she could take a breath, the odd looking black fairy popped back into the living room.  George’s eyes widened as he laid back into the couch to take his pulse and check his vital functions.

“What’s wrong Kiercey?  I happen to know you’ve always had a thing for Mr. Clooney there,” Cosumot said with a smirk.

“George Clooney is married, and he’s obviously severely disturbed by all this.  You can’t just go around ruining people’s lives!”  Kiercey’s eyes glittered with anger.

“So what if he’s married, you said you only wanted a little pleasure now and then.  Ok, Ok, look I’ll send him back.”

“NO!” Kiercey shouted.  “You can’t just pop him back there without helping him understand what is going on.”  She turned to the actor.  “Mr. Clooney, this is Cosumot, he’s a Fairy God – something or other…”

The fairy interrupted her, “STUD!”

“That’s a matter of opinion, “ Kiercey muttered towards him under her breath.

George Clooney said, “You’re Arsenio Hall, …in a ballerina suit, with a magic wand…in New York City…”

“No,” Cosumot answered, “In this book I’m Cosumot, but you’re the real George Clooney.”

“Why?” The actor asked with desperation in his voice, like a small child.

“Don’t try to figure it out, pal.  Here, have some ice cream…and a great day!”  The Fairy God-Stud manifested a vanilla ice cream cone, handed it to the actor and then karate chopped at the air until Clooney was back in his red convertible at the studio lot.

“I’ll bet we’ll be hearing about him checking into rehab soon,” Kiercey said quietly.  “I’m telling you Cosumot, this is just too much!  I WILL NOT put up with any more of your match making, do you understand me?”

Cosumot studied her seriously, then nodded ok.  “All right, I give up.  You’re banishing me to another year of wearing this outlandish outfit, but if that’s what you want….”

“You can go naked if you want to as far as I’m concerned, but I do NOT want any more men…OR WOMEN…” Kiercey threw in as an afterthought, “hurled at me.  No more phone calls from your slick talking con men, no more guys with potted plants and no more confused…hunks…of…” Kiercey stopped.  “My God what have I done?  I had George Clooney on my couch.”

“I can bring him back…!”  Cosumot said hopefully, flashing his pearly white teeth.

Kiercey held up her hand.  “No.  No, simply NO.  I’m done with you.  You’re a nice fairy and I wish you lots of luck but this is not how I want to spend my romantic fantasies.  I have to leave now.”  She picked up her keys, took one last look at the fairy with the muscular legs, then left him behind in her apartment.


The church was bustling with people, mostly older ladies with hats and shopping bags full of “goodies” picked up from the tables.

Kiercey spotted her mother on the opposite side of the room talking with the new priest.  They were standing beside a table covered with over-stretched, yellow-stained bras and huge cotton panties.

“Oh, hello Kiercey,” her mother called out when she saw her approaching.  “Come and meet Father Dave, he’s been dying to meet you.”  Kiercey’s mother always exaggerated, so she ignored the statement.

The young man in black turned slowly around, his hands clasped comfortably behind his straight back.  Kiercey was met with the most gorgeous blue eyes she had ever seen; they absolutely glowed a shade of blue that mesmerized her.  Her eyes slowly settled over the rest of his face, the strong, freshly shaved chin, and the broad shoulders, down and down, until in embarrassment she had to look away. 

Father Dave smiled, pretending he hadn’t noticed her appraisal of him, and reached to shake her hand.  Just then, Kiercey’s gaze fell upon something even more disturbing.  There on the table in front of her, on top of the yellowed bras, was a ballerina tutu and a magic wand.

“Dear God…”, Kiercey said half aloud.  Looking back up at the priest, their eyes and hands met sending electricity dancing between them.


There was a loud pop closely followed by a cough of smoke, as a billowing cloud of non-odorous smut appeared in the drawing room of the huge estate. 

“Cough-cough!” A dark suited arm waved the smoke aside and stepped closer to where the surprised senator stood.  Hillary had been jotting down notes on a monogrammed note pad, and didn’t look pleased at all…

“Hello, Senator Clinton. My name is Cosumot, and today is your lucky day.”  Arsenio’s pearly white teeth shone amiably above his expensive leisure suit.

The End – for now…

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