I really had no idea what to write this week so I scoured my Pinterest writing prompt board until I found something that make plotbunnies dance around in my head. The prompt was a dialogue prompt: “Why is there a dragon in your fridge?” “It was hot.” Simple and fun.
…“Er, Steve, why is there a dragon in your fridge?”
…I shrugged and looked up from the tiny fondant flower I was trying to put onto the smallest chocolate cake I’d ever made. “It was hot.” I told Jake.
…“The detail is amazing, man. How did you get the scales so shiny?” He asked.
…“He’s not a – I wouldn’t do that -” I warned but was already too late.
…Jake yelped and staggered back a step, “Dude! That thing is alive!”
…The bunny-sized dragon chose that moment to climb out of the fridge and make its way over to Jake.
…“Well, yeah.” I told my friend, trying not to laugh as he backed away from my new pet.
…“Okay,” Jake invited, now pressed with his back against the kitchen bar, “care to elaborate?”
…“So, remember that weird dude that hired me a couple weeks ago? The guy claiming to be a mage?” I waited for his nod to continue, “well, turns out he’s legit. He tossed in this huge egg as a bonus, right? Claiming it would make more money for me in the end. Few days later, this little guy hatches.”
…Smaug had now climbed up Jake’s jeans with his tiny claws, dodging Jake’s flailing arms, and was rummaging through his pockets. Smaug made a sound of triumph and pulled out a shiny nickel.
…I gently laid down the tiny fondant flower and walked over to the small table by the couch.
…The little dragon ran over to me, nickel firmly in his beak and chirped happily up at me, showing off his prize.
…I patted him on the head as I pulled the tablecloth aside, revealing a pile of loose change and other shiny buttons and beads he had scrounged up from God-knows-where.
…Smaug ducked under the table and curled up on his hoard, making weird purring/chirping sounds while he chewed on the nickel.
…Jake was staring at him, and me, mouth hanging slightly open.
…“Yeah, I don’t know either, man. Smaug thinks I’m his mommy or something and keeps collecting things. I think there’s, like, twenty bucks in change here and it’s only been a week.”
…“You have a dragon as a pet? A freaking wizard gave you a dragon as a bonus?” Jake demanded.
…I picked the delicate flower back up and finally got it in its place. “Yeah, he was really happy about the cake. Said it gave everyone a boost.” I shrugged again, holding the three-tiered cake away from me to look at it properly. “Apparently I’m magic or something. Hey, does this look right to you?” I waved him over holding up the teeny wedding cake where he could see.
…“It’s freaking adorable,” Jake said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “why are you making doll-house cakes right now?”
…“For a client, two fairies are getting married -”
…“Dude, you can’t just say that!”
…I winced at his vehemence. “Right, sorry, two pixies are getting married and asked me to make their cake.” I carefully put the cake down with the other four cakes, each in a different flavour and with slightly different decorations. “The bride could be here any moment for a tasting. You can wait if you want, but I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t make an ass out of yourself while she’s here.” I tossed him a meaningful glare. It wouldn’t be the first time.
…“Right.” Jake stated, one eyebrow raised. “I promise I won’t embarrass you in front of the imaginary, small humanoids. Can we get back to how your magic now?”
…Just as he said it four pixies appeared out of nowhere. A puff of pinkish smoke that vaguely shimmered in the afternoon light and suddenly there were four pint-sized women standing on my dinner table.
…Jake took that moment to choke on his own spit and fled further into the kitchen.
…Daffodil, the bride-to-be, looked after him, then back to me.
…“He’ll be fine,” I assured her, “You’re looking lovely today, are you exited?”
…She smiled broadly while she made a small twirl through the air.
…I smiled at her. “Shall we begin with the lemon?”
…For the next few minutes the bride and her entourage tasted the mini cakes and tried to tell me, in a combination of gestures and speech that sounded like ringing bells, which flavours and decoration they wanted for the big day. It was going to me an ombre cake in purple with the tiniest fondant peonies, hydrangea flowers and golden berries on top. This was going to be fun. I sat back from my notepad and regarded my client. “So, you have around 120 guests, right?”
…She nodded, her blue hair bouncing with the movement.
…“Are they all your size or will there be guests bigger? Like myself?”
…Daffodil came over and took the pencil from me, the thing almost as big as herself. She regarded my notes for a moment and made a crude six on the paper.
…“Six bigger people.” I clarified. “Are they all my size or are they bigger?”
…She wrote a two and an arrow pointing up.
…“Two bigger.” I confirmed, mentally calculating how much sponge-cake I would need. “How big are we talking?”
…Then everything just – changed.
…I wasn’t sitting at my table any more but was standing in the middle of a forest. A huge creature hulking over me, its breath hot on my face. I was afraid to move, afraid to even breathe because one bite of this thing and I’d have lost a head. I blinked and everything was back to normal. Swallowing hard I looked at Daffodil, who was looking slightly guilty. “Okay -” I tried, my voice two octaves too high. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Okay, so a full sized cake each for them, and one ten inch round cake for the others to share. Or would you like cupcakes?”
…My client shook her head and pointed towards the pastel cake.
…“Alright, I’ll have it done in time for the ceremony. Full moon, right?”
…She nodded. That would give me six days, it would be tight, but it was doable.
…We said our goodbyes and the pixies disappeared again in a puff of smoke.
…Jake finally dared to venture out of the kitchen again. “Steve?” he started, “I’m not hallucinating, right? There really were tiny women on your table just now?”
…I made some final notes about the wedding cakes before putting my pencil down and turning towards him. “You’re not hallucinating,” I reassured him, “apparently Alaric, the mage, spread the word. Like I said, I’m magic.” I added a little jazz-hands for emphasis.
…“Yeah -” Jake trailed off, “and what does that mean, exactly?”
…“I have no idea,” I laughed, “when Daffodil came for her first appointment she requested that her wedding cake would ‘spread happiness and love’, whatever that means. I don’t now what I’m doing, man, but I guess I’m doing it right because she left a lot more – sparkly.”
…Jake opened his mouth to answer when there was a knock at my door. He quirked an eyebrow. “What is it? Witches? Dragons of the full-sized variety? You know what, I’ll get it.”
…“I think witches make their own sweets.” I joked as he walked over and pulled open the door.
…A man was standing there, dressed in full armour with an honest-to-God sword hanging from his belt. “You are Steven the Baker?” He asked Jake, who was looking towards the heavens with a ‘why-me’ expression on his face.
…“Actually, that would be me.” I told the stranger.
…“My Lord Baruchiel would like you to bake him something that would give him the strength to vanquish his enemies.” The stranger stated.
…“Uhm, okay?” I tried, “I can pencil him in next week.”
…He looked back towards the door, seemingly both nervous and annoyed. “His Lordship would prefer not to wait.” As he said this, a huge man stepped into my apartment, his giant white-and-grey wings folded behind his back. They were decorated with delicate golden chains, dappled with what I suspected were real diamonds, reflecting rainbows in the afternoon light.
…Jake looked over to me as if to say ‘dude, your life’.
…I looked back saying ‘dude, I know.’ Then I turned towards my new clients and uttered a phrase I’d never thought I’d say. “I’m sorry, sir,” I told the angel, “but the pixies were first.