- From the Desk of Emmaline Faun -

- Resident Fairy Godmother of the Gingerbread Wood to the Mermaid's Lagoon -

- - -

Who makes happy endings, well . . . happen?

It's certainly not the princesses, despite their very catchy theme-songs. Darling, Cinderella would never have stopped crying by the fireplace if someone hadn't listened to her whining, and forcibly pushed her out the front door. Snow White? Her greatest triumph was accepting an apple from a strange old woman, and spewing up the poison bit at the magical moment. Rapunzel? She spent all day, every day shampooing her hair. Yep, that's one great heroine for you.

Thumbelina was the size of a finger; think about it.

The princes? Don't make me laugh. Those pathetic lumps of brawn and blue eyes are too busy proving their supposed 'manliness.' Dear, have you ever met Charming? Talk about issues, after five years, he's still jealous of seven dwarves with silver beards. Dear Prince Derek tried to shoot his one true love because he thought she was the 'Great Beast.' And Phillip, Aurora's husband – he tried attacking a dragon on foot with a sword. Um . . . Phillip, dear, dragons can breathe fire, and that pointy little pig-sticker you're so proud of? It won't do much good without brains.

I blame inbreeding, I really do.

What does that leave - the assistant pig keepers? I think my milk just came out my nose.

So who's left to make those tear-jerking, happy endings happen?

Well, that's our job, the Fairy Godmothers.

Pause.

Now you're thinking, nice, a group of old, gray-haired, plump women go around making the world a better place. How . . . cute.

Eh, not really . . . I'm twenty-two, blonde, and toned. And if you try to hit on me, love, I've got a wand and a license to send you to a place where oxygen is a distant memory.

Thank you, and have a wonderful, wish upon a star kind of day.