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Thud! Thud! Thud! The dreadful sound of machinery putting together fruitcake slabs assaulted the tender ears of Sakura, recently appointed as the Fruitcake Fairy by the Boss Fairy who found her deficient in more critical assignments of inducing sleep, hiding socks, and turning wine. She despaired, "Waaaaa! I should have applied myself in fairy school and more diligently performed my duties. Now I'm in this dead-end job until I'm eligible for my pension. And considering my salary, I will have to live under the bridge with the trolls!"
But then a glimmer of hope presented itself. Sakura remembered how humans loved alcohol so much; and wondered if she could, er, enhance the product a tad. This was just an idea until she was hanging out in Pepito's Lounge for relaxation, to get over her dispiritedness. There she met Bob, a guy who chatted her up. He seemed unprepossessing, and she first thought, "Oh great! Time to get hit on by another third-class loser!"
But her pessimism (and sheer snobbishness) was unfounded. It turned out that Bob was a Chem. E. major from L.S.U. and a wheeler-dealer on the side. Plus he had gorgeous blue eyes. They turned out to have a lot in common! Together, they found a way of walking on the wild side for fun and profit.
You see, Bob found an easy, inexpensive way of producing a supreme cognac; and melded it into the fruit cakes on stock. Sakura applied her marketing skills and knowledge of the customers. She designed provocative labels which attested to their strength of the cognac-laced fruitcakes, rating them as 100% octane V.S.O.P. and all of that.
Naturally, they had the usual market to draw on: the L.S.U. frat houses, the Acadian whiskey bars, the drive-in daiquiri stands, the New Orleans gin mills. And their business did tolerably well. But Sakura then discovered an unexpected outlet: The aristocratic old lady trade in Uptown New Orleans.
Now you must remember that these ladies are the upholders of severe community standards. While they like a libation now and then, they possessed a sentiment that drinking alcohol in mid-afternoon was just not done; it was not genteel, you know. Drinking before 8 P.M. implied that all was not right in the family; it was seen as overtly self-indulgent.
But what could be more harmless than an afternoon coffee and tea party with a fruitcake snack? Anyway, Sakura sold one to a hostess and promised to act as a server at the party. The fruitcake part of the party was a success: the first one ended with the entirety of the fruitcake consumed, and subsequent tea parties required more and more fruitcakes.
Sakura and Bob worked out a system of buying the fruitcakes and ingredients wholesale, and sold the "improved versions" at a 400% markup. The money started to roll in.
As one satisfied customer put it, "I never knew afternoon tea parties could be so fun."
Months went by, and things were going well. However, eventually, things began to come unraveled. The New Orleans Police Department's Vice Squad formed a Fruitcake Division, and there was several officers that worked full-time to suppress the illicit fruitcake trade. Fortunately for our heroes, they diversified their holdings, and vacated the business.
Bob is presently a casino kingpin on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. Sakura spends the day lounging around the swimming pool in a bikini and manages their portfolio. She occasionally drafts a report to the Fairy Office that the fruitcake trade is doing okay, but tries to keep a low profile. Things are going well; don't fix what ain't broken.
Sakura, Shinobu, and Mizuki had been laid off for economic reasons, but were able to get trainee positions as fairies so they would be ready when jobs opened up.
Although many fairies were rendered unemployed lately, the government, in its wisdom, launched a new program to train new fairies to deal with the anticipated shortage in the sweet bye-end-bye. Sakura, Shinobu, and Mizuki were chosen.
They underwent a two-week orientation program, in which they viewed movies and heard lectures describing the program and their place in it. They were both issued 500-page manuals, and were told that they would be tested on it at the end of the course.
They were taught the Fairies Song, and gave rah-rah cheers. No rah-rah skirts though: they were thought not suitable for government service.
They were issued training bras according to governmental regulations.
And informed that the working day begins at 7:00 and ends at 4:00. No more than a half-hour for lunch; and two short coffee breaks of a half-hour each. No deviation from government regs permitted.
Finally, they were given their job titles: they were Toilet Paper Fairies Third Class. Specifically, they were to organize mischief regarding toilet paper; including:
a. Stealing toilet paper from restrooms;
b. Re-positioning the toilet paper so that it goes under the top;
c. "Rolling" houses and trees with T-P.
Our trainees performed their duties with distinction. Governmental work triumphs.
Cheerleading as an art and a science has undergone many changes in recent times: no longer is it done primarily by loud-voiced sweater-wearing girls at football or basketball games. It's become more gymnastic, dance-oriented. And the costumes have become more revealing, much to the delight of most males..
Now five girls from all-girl Catholic schools, wishing to get in on the fun, decided to become Ronin Cheerleaders: to be hired out for various purposes, cheering loudly and dancing and jumping with abandon for whatever cause came their way. They got two other girls who were also not on any squad and worked out a lot of surprising routines. Soon commissions came their way.
For example, they provided cheering services for the Novena (nine day prayer service) at St. Leroy's. "Give me a P! Give me a R! Give me an A! Give me a Y! . . . ." Strangely, it worked, especially when they wore the two-piece outfits and topped it off with a pyramid. Clarissa followed it with encouraging words: "D*** you, PRAY!" The novena attenders did, and the priest was pleased.
The next day they cheered the opening of a doughnut store. "Come on, Boys! Let's make the scene! Come on, Boys! Have a Krispy Kreme! Do-nuts! Do-nuts! Do-nuts!"
Meetings of employees became occasions for our ronin girls to cheer the staff to greater and greater feats of marketing. "Sell! Sell! Sell! Or the market's gonna go to ****" (Our Girls, being well-behaved Catholic girls, didn't actually use the profanity.)
And what is more appropriate for cheerleading accompaniment than a lingerie fashion show? "Bustier, panty, demibra, thong; With Vicky's Secret you can't go wrong."
Somehow the Arkansas State legislature found the means to hire them to open the session (after the proper invocation by the preacher du jour. The legislators were entranced, if not bemused, by bikini-wearing ladies doing flips to "Candy."
Sakura did have a few reservations about doing a dog fight; but Shinobu came up with a snappy cheer for the occasion. "Hut! Hut! Hut! Hut! Hut! Were's gonna kick that mutt! In the butt! Butt! Butt!" The customers were fully satisfied.
And to reassure a corporation undergoing a morale crisis: "Hoddy toddy, God Almighty, Who the heck are we? Bim Bam! We're Microsoft and you know it, by damn!"
Even fairies can feel vulnerable at times. So it is no surprise that our Sakura, while having a glass of rum-spiked tea in a tavern, was approached by a large, friendly male wearing shorts, a cut-off tee exposing his navel, and flip-flops. Sakura was demurely dressed in her aqua kimono with the red and white peonies.
"Well hey hey hey, Babe. Whatcha doin'? You look like you need a guy to cheer you up. Hey, I'm that guy. Name's Jim Bob, and I play Right Guard for the Tigers."
(Sakura thought, 'Amazing; this poor fellow works to provide deodorant for wild jungle beasts. But that's understandable: I still remember how the Cat House at the Zoo reeked.')
"Hello, Jim Bob. My name's Sakura. I am pleased to make your acquaintance."
"And I am to meet you, Babe. What's with the bathrobe? You just got out of the shower and needed a drink before you go beddy-bye?"
"No, Jim Bob. These are my working clothes. I'm the Fruitcake Fairy and I just got off."
"Oh wow! And I thought you were a chick. Oh well, that's not my thing; but whatever floats your boat I'm cool about. But, other than your bathrobe, what other strange things do you do to be a fruitcake, Sakura?"
Other than an occasional misunderstanding, Sakura and Jim Bob had a good time.
