The package came in plain brown wrapper. I wasn’t sure it was really for me until I saw it moving. Just a little. Rocking, actually, side-to-side. As if something inside were running back and forth. I didn’t want to pick it up, but had to get it off the porch. So I kicked the package off the side where the railing was broken away. It bounced onto the grass with a thud and a squeak. Then I knew for sure it was for me.

A strange little catalogue had come in my mail a month ago. As a Halloween present to myself I’d sent off for a pixie. A cleaning pixie, actually. Pixies are small for cleaning houses, but I have a small house. My dog died last year so I didn’t have to worry about Fido chasing, or eating, the pixie. And my house was might dirty.

So I brought the package indoors and opened it. The pixie was tiny, of course, and not real cute. But he did speak English, like I ordered. And he was willing to clean.

Now, two weeks later, my house is a lot cleaner, though I still have to do the laundry myself. The place smells kind of funny, however. Guess I’ll have to house train the pixie.


One comment on “Pixie

  1. Cappy Love Hanson says:

    Cute, Debrah. I can see a series of stories about the narrator and the pixie. If you loan him to me, he can use the cat’s litter box.

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