Saucy Wenches writing prompt for March 09.

“I am not your fairy godmother!” Iris growled.

She regretted the outburst immediately. The fellow looked so downtrodden, she felt like she’d just kicked a puppy.

But, damnit, she wasn’t a fairy godmother! She’d told them she was quite happy as a simple flower shop owner, thank you very much, and she did not want the job.

Obviously, they hadn’t listened. A more annoying, nosy group of busybodies, she had never met.

The card that had started this mess rested innocently on the counter between them. The Godmothers really spared no expense. On quality cardstock with professional printing and just a hint of glitter, the hand-scripted words,  “Jeremy, your fairy godmother is Iris. See her at Beautiful Blooms to make your dreams come true!” sparkled merrily up at her.

She resisted the urge to rip the ruddy thing to shreds and set them on fire.

“B-b-but the card said…and I have my three wishes ready…and I just thought….”

She massaged her temples, asking the heavens for patience. It’s not like it was his fault. “Let me guess. You’re having girl troubles.”

He brightened. “Yes! Yes, I am!”

“And you thought all you had to do was come here, and I’d wave a magic wand, and all the sudden little Susie Wonderful-”

“Janice. Her name is Janice,” he corrected.

She leveled a sour look at him and he quieted.

“So you thought I’d wave a magic wand and all the sudden Janice would fall to her knees, overcome with love for you. Right?”

He nodded eagerly.

“Well, I don’t have a magic wand.” He slumped, noticeably disappointed.

She lifted a hand. “I may not have a wand, but I do have flowers. Why don’t you take these,” she turned and picked up the bouquet she had been preparing before he came in, an elegant arrangement of white lilies, white roses, baby’s breath, and a single contrasting red rose. Handing the vase to him, she continued, “give them to her, tell her you’d love to get to know her better, and see what happens.”

“Gosh,” he said. She winced. He might need more than just a couple flowers, though some girls liked that wet-behind-the-ears-small-town-boy charm. “You really think that’ll work?”

“I have a first date money back guarantee.” She smiled at him.

He was a sweet kid, to be sure. She hoped the flowers worked for him. Magic was not the solution for matters of the heart, no matter what those old biddies at the Godmother Society thought.

He paid for the flowers and turned. As the little bell over the door began to chime, she heard him mutter under his breath. “Wow, magic flowers! This is gonna be awesome!”

“They’re not-” the door shut behind him, and she sighed, finishing the sentence to no one at all, “-magic.”

She took a deep breath. This was unacceptable. That was the third lovestruck boy this week.

She reached down and picked up the card, frowning direly at it.

If the Godmothers wanted a war, she’d give them a war.