He sat on the grass verge at the side of the road, his head spinning, his bare feet pressed into the grit. The wet road shone like liquorish in the moonlight.
Where were his shoes?
He curled his toes and frowned. He was vaguely horny, vaguely high and really fucking bored.
Where in the fuck were his shoes?
Wasn't he driving a car, like, half an hour ago? If this is where God wanted him to be then God sure had a sucky sense of humour.
He ran his fingers through his hair then rubbed the palms of his hands into his eye sockets. He needed something. Sleep? No... Blow. Weed. Something.
He patted his pockets. "'Shrooms?" Where did he get those?
Still, he didn't want to seem ungrateful. He popped a couple into his mouth and began to chew before his taste buds could react. He swallowed quickly, retched a little then lay back in the long grass.
"Shoes," he said out-loud, with a kind of vague wonder. When he was a kid, back in New Mexico, his Mom had told him that if you needed something all you had to do was wish for it. "I wish for shoes!" He announced confidently into the empty night air.
There was a tinkling sound, like dozens of bells ringing from very far away, and a "pop", like the change in air pressure when you zoom through a train tunnel real fast. He wiggled his jaw, swallowing hard until he could hear properly again.
Then he screamed.
Because he saw himself.
Clear as day, he saw himself.
But with wings.
And a kind-of lame, cream-coloured suit.
"Fuck…" He exclaimed.
Did somebody wish for some shoes? His winged-self asked.
"What are you supposed to be? A fucking angel?"
His other self gave him a look. It was that "don't be such a jerk" look, the one he practiced in the mirror. Who am I? Check out the wings! Who do you think I am?
"A fucking fairy!" He told himself.
His other self shook his head sadly. Did you wish for strippers? No. You wished for shoes, you idiot. I'm the shoe fairy!
"Should have wished for strippers." He looked down at his hands, which now seemed to have far more than the correct number of fingers. Those shrooms were really strong. Really, really strong. And what was he thinking again? "Oh right. So, you gonna conjure me up some sneakers, dude?"
The fairy… shoe… person… rolled his eyes. Sneakers? Please. It's gonna be Gucinari for you, my friend. The fairy cracked his knuckles, reached into his jacket and pulled out a small trumpet.
A small golden trumpet. Shiny!
The fairy played The Last Post on the trumpet and a pair of black and red leather lace-ups appeared on his feet.
"Whoa. Dude, that's fairly impressive."
The fairy… guy… stared at him. Well? Do I get a round of applause?
He clapped his hands together but the sound was muffled and his palms didn't seem to fit together properly. He thought for a moment. "Hey? Fairy guy! Can I touch your wings?"
The fairy laughed. If you're careful.
He reached around the fairy shoe person's back, the tips of his fingers brushing over the soft, soft feathers. "Nice."
I know, right? People never usually appreciate the wings. Never. The fairy's eye twitched a little.
He buried his fingers deeper in the feathers. It was an oddly sensual sensation. His dick twitched and hardened.
The fairy shoe person purred like a kitten. Stop doing that. You've got your shoes now I gotta go.
"No way! Come on…"
I don't make the rules.
"Come on, dude! There's nothing to do out here. You can't leave me alone with a raging boner. That's totally fucking unfair."
Dude, I'm you. You're totally fucking hallucinating right now!
"Doesn't make you any less hot. Shit, your wings are so soft!" He pulled the fairy shoe person towards him. He was solid enough for an hallucination. His hands were solid enough anyways, and that's all that mattered. The fairy stuck his hands down the front of his pants, fingers encircling his dick, not to gentle either.
So, do you still think you should have wished for strippers?
"Shut the fuck up and get me off already?"
The fairy shoe person laughed, his hand pumping rhythmically, firmly, confidently.
"So, what happens if I wish you to b-blow me?" He stuttered, on the edge already. Boy, the fairy shoe person was good.
The fairy shoe person chuckled. You couldn't handle it. You've seem me blow that trumpet.
"I could handle… urgh!" His eyes rolled back in his head and he ejaculated explosively over his own fist. When he opened his eyes he was standing at the side of the road, alone, dick in hand, fingers covered in come.
There was no-one else for miles around.
He blinked slowly, still panting, until the world came back into focus.
Then he looked down at his feet, at the red and black shoes and he grinned, wiping his hand on the grass verge and retrieving the bag of mushrooms from the ground.
"Thanks dude," he muttered. "Shoe fairies! Hah..." And he wondered how many of the 'shrooms he'd have to chug before he saw something really awesome.
Like a unicorn.