Just another magical crack fic

The Merman...Merperson...Whatever.

After my 754th fucking toddler tooth of the night, I can finally go back to my townhouse and get approximately 45 minutes of sleep before my actual real-life shitshow of a job. It's not like I really need to sleep to function -- I just really like my bed. When I'm "spreading my wings" at night (god that sounds fucking dirty), I go into this fugue state and just sort of let the universe work through me. I don't make wrong turns, I don't fuck up anything. It's actually kind of nice. It's sort of like when Harry Potter takes the good luck potion, or maybe it's like being really fucking drunk and breaking into people's homes to look at their children, and yet, everything works out for the best. But now -- NOW-- I have to get out of my very comfortable bed, remove my fluffy puffy cloud comforter, remove my fucking cat from my head, and go to work.

Charlie the Leprechaun, a/k/a Charlie from accounting, is perched on my desk when I walk in. Charlie is not a small dude. My desk is struggling. He's clearly got news, because the air is vibrating around his fucking glowing self, and he's scream-whispering "TEA! TEA!!!!" at me as I fumble with my bag and my fancy coffee drink. I sit, swivel on the chair toward his direction, and drag my hands down my face to physically demonstrate the aching homicide I feel in my bones. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I ask in a flat, sarcastic tone, "Dear me Charlie, what is the tea?"

Charlie hops (lumbers) off my desk and gets within inches of my face (personal space, please), and tells me in a tense, hushed tone, that he met a merman. Now, Charlie is a psycho, bona fide fucking crazy person, but this is actually interesting because between the two of us, we only know a few others. I can't act too interested, though, or he will be unforgivably loud and I'll have to shove my stapler down his throat. "Ok," I start, "tell me how you found a merman."

"How the fuck does anyone meet a merman? I almost fucking drowned. Merman arrived, swept me off my drowning feet, and voila!" Charlie made a loud, smacking, chef's kiss.

"How did you fucking almost drown? We're landlocked, asshole."

"Rec center pool. I was doing SUP aerobics."

"Your ass was on a paddle board? Like, on purpose? Dude, you're like 300 pounds." Clearly I was enjoying that mental image way too much, because I got swatted on the back of the head when my smirk turned to chuckles, and chuckles to guffaws hardly muffled when my forehead was in my arms on the desk.

"Well, Aquaman didn't give a shit. He swooped right in there, baby. I think he likes 'em thicccccc." Charlie enunciated each "c," dramatically rolled his eyes, swathed a hand down the side of his torso, and touched his tongue to a canine tooth.

Another drag of palms down my face later, I resign myself to asking the question, "So are you going to let me meet him? Or is his seashell bra all yours?"

Charlie, indignant, replies, "He doesn't wear a bra. He's a merMAN. And *what* a merman." Charlie begins fanning himself. 

"Maybe he's just a strong swimmer. And I think the inclusive term is 'mer-person.' You don't know how he, she, or they might identify."

"That's all right, fuck you, Toothy. I have a new friend. I don't need you anymore. And he might even dick me down."

"With what, his tail? Ok, ok, for fuck's sake. Can you get us all together for lunch or something? Maybe get the other folks, too, so we're not hoarding Aquaman. And don't pick a seafood place."

After a roll of the eyes, a look of contemplation drew Charlie's face inward. "I didn't really see a tail. He was just... Powerful. I think I might need to go to the aquarium this weekend. How do fish fuck again? I feel like you would know."

"Why the fuck would I know, dude?"

"Am I going to fuck up my browser history looking into this? Does IT actually check that stuff? Usually I just delete it after."

"Ew. Just ewww... no, just next time you're at the pool, set up lunch, for god's sake."

And that's how I found myself at my favorite overpriced sandwich shop, desperately wishing for a liquid lunch, with a leprechaun, an elf, and a sprite. Our new aquatic acquaintance, who I had learned was called Shakes, but we don't know why, arrived last. Charlie squealed (literally, a grown fucking mountain of a red-haired man squealed) when he saw his mer-friend enter the glass double doors, and he started making introductions.

"So, Annie is an elf. Not like Santa, more like Lord of the Rings. She's like, super-high up in the balance-of-magical-powers game." Charlie wiggled his hands like voodoo fingers to demonstrate how magical Annie is. "I don't even *know* what she does at work anymore. This unfortunately straight-as-a-board hunk of everything beautiful is Tate, and he's a sprite." Charlie rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know, the powers that be have a sick sense of humor. Let's make *this hot ass guy* wear tights and pollinate flowers or some shit." Tate chuckled, averted his eyes, and mumbled something about not being *that* hot, even though he knows he is an Idris Elba-looking motherfucker, and Shakes extended his hand to Tate. I was tempted to make some comment about "shaking" but arrived at the conclusion that it wasn't the best first impression.

Mer-boy's eyes landed on me and narrowed. "Hello Kara. I didn't expect to see you here."

My eyes widened and I did a double-take. "What the actual fuck? Jack?"

Jack Ritter was the hottest fucking guy in my quantitative methods class in college. We never talked. No, we never made eye contact. We  never got within forty feet of each other, and the classroom was probably 41-feet-wide. The reason was because Jack Ritter was the hottest fucking guy in my QM class and also a SNAKE. If Charlie told me he met fucking Lucifer from the Garden of Eden, I would have believed that more.

Annie looked between us and, like the fucking magical being she is, she ESP'd the shit out of me and said, "Well there's obviously some bad blood here, so I think I'm going to dip. Nice to meet you, Shakes." After Annie took her leave, I looked over to Tate, who had the biggest shit-eating-grin on his face possible. He was living for what was about to go down. He jabbed my side, and I jabbed him the fuck back, and because I am the bigger person, obviously, I stood up to politely withdraw. With my head held high, I said that it was good to make a new magical acquaintance, and started to push in my chair. See? Bigger person. Two thumbs. Yo.

Jack scoffed and muttered under his breath, "fairy cunt." And then, somewhere in the universe, Ave Maria was playing, the felix felicis kicked in, and I roundhouse kicked that bitch in the face. Well, really, I turned in shock and horror, turned all red, and imagined the roundhouse kick. Still the bigger person. "Well I'm sorry you feel that way. I was hoping we could start again," my voice lowered and I said through gritted teeth, "now that you don't have any way to cheat me out of a research presentation."

"Who cheated? *WHO* cheated?" Jack's voice elevated and his arms flailed. "You cheated just being in that class. You didn't deserve to publish anything, much less present. I presented because I deserved it." He sneered at me like it was ten years ago and he was still standing there at the research conference next to his stupid fucking poster that I *totally* don't remember every single fucking detail about.

Charlie looked apprehensively between his friend and his potential fuck toy. Biting his lip and crinkling his brow, he extended his palms between us and, in his most soothing, not shrill gay man voice, he said, "Ok, well we've all gotten older and more mature. So maybe we can patch things up and get back to why we are all here. Err., well Annie left, I guess, but.."

"It's ok," I say, picking up my keys and phone. "I'll leave. Smell ya later, dickhead." Maybe not the bigger person.