My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie The fairy's castle was crumbling. Time to steal some new teeth. She wasn't willing to take out another loan for her dental career. If not enough children were knocking their own molars out, then she would have to take care of that for them. Ignoring the fissures that were beginning to show more and more along the walls, the fairy snapped her belt on, slipping her wand, a hammer, and a pair of pliers in the loops. A pocket knife was snuck into the pocket of her corduroy jeans. She tied her hair back and then covered her scalp with a black cap. She didn't do tutus. That was just a dumb kid's tale. "Honey?" she called to the stairs above. "Yes, dear?" "I'm going out." "Better have some teeth on you." Teeth, teeth, teeth. Her whole life had been about teeth. Coins were like weeds in the kingdom - they just popped up. They were worthless, which was why the fairy exchanged them for the bicuspids. The

"Today's broadcast is brought to you by - " "Something I don't give one iota of a shit about," grumbled Gary as he shut off the radio. I watched as he returned to the kitchen to check on the waffle iron. I was working on a crossword in a book I had gotten for Christmas. I was stuck on 25-down. I had an o, an e, and a t, but I couldn't quite figure it out. "You know anything about music, Gary?" He snorted. "Contemporary."