In the deepest part of sleep, when the night sky is darkest and the stars shine brightest, a fairy came to me and hovered off the end of my bed. It poked me with its starry wand and scared the shit out of me. I could tell it was a fairy by the wings and the makeup. The fairy started off by explaining how it’s rude to call a fairy “it” and said I should use the they/them pronouns instead. I rubbed my eyes and said I was sorry and wondered in the privacy of my own thoughts how many times I’d have to vacuum the room to get rid of the glitter and fairy dust and shit.
So what kind of fairy are you? I asked.
Oh, I’m the fuck fairy, sweetheart.
Like the tooth fairy, but for fucking?
Not at all. Not at all.
The fuck fairy looked with disgust at the dirty underwear heaped in a corner and explained that theirs was more of an editorial function. They pointed their starry wand at me and acted all disdainful, nose stuck in the air like I was a lesser being who emanated a foul odour (which I probably did seeing as I’d forgotten to shower for a couple days).
It’s come to our attention that when you write your stories you use the word fuck with alarming frequency. We’re here to excise the fuck out of your stories.
But it’s one of my favourite words. (In retrospect, I think I may have whined.)
There are more genteel alternatives, you know.
So how does this work? You wave your wand and all the fucks magically disappear from my stories.
I could do that, but I’d rather you participated in the process. Own your vocabulary, if you know what I mean.
A feeling of panic rose from my gut. If the lights had been on, the fuck fairy might have seen how my face turned blotchy and how my hands started to shake.
I don’t think you understand, I said. It’s not just a matter of personal taste; I’m addicted to the word fuck. If you make me stop cold turkey, I might spiral out of control. Stand on a street corner yelling swear words all night. Rearrange the letters on those mobile signs. There’s no telling how bad it could get. I might target nuns. School children. Bus drivers. I could turn into a public menace.
The fuck fairy held the tip of their wand to their lower lip and thought for minute. I see what you mean and, just to show that I’m not an unreasonable fuck fairy, I’m willing to make a compromise. Let’s forget about the stories you’ve already written. Start with this one.
You want me to edit the fuck out of this story?
Precisely.
Oh, I think it’s way the fuck too late for this story.
