People, this is serious. I have recently discovered that fairies are the perfect vehicle for my dramatic whims. I will officially proceed to use them gratutiously in plays. There is lots of room for over-writing, whimsy, and general cuteness. Also, the costumes. I mean, hi.

I measure the success of the fairy character thing I have created by the fact that the girl playing the Fairy in the Bedmaker’s Revenge got an audition for a Fox Sitcom because of it. Holla! (Pronounced ‘(ch)alla.’ Not ‘Hoe-lah.’)

A few weeks ago, it was a Sleep Fairy who never sleeps. This week – as I attempt to write a one act for Flux Theatre Ensemble that must be somehow inspired by the character of Bottom from Midsummer Night’s Dream – the Fairy is obsessed with Celebrities, and just happens to be wry and wise. So there.

So far, she says:

One upon a time, John Stamos terrorized an Australian talk show host. He wasn’t drunk, he was just Really tired.
Famous people don’t love Normal people, they just don’t. Even people pretending to be famous. We watch famous people like toys that might change while we’re sleeping, Their boobs get bigger and smaller and we watch. Has their hair grown? How has it grown since yesterday? Where can I get that salad dressing he uses? I want that hair, I need that car, if I can’t have it, I want death, I want to be buried in my own lack thereof.
When you poke at your face in the mirror, a fairy sits on your shoulder and shakes her head. Your mother cries because she didn’t teach you how to grow up.
When a fairy says good night, a light turns red in Hollywood and a person without a home mulls across the street, dragging a bag of old shoes.

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