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Painting by Robert Kingsley
“There’s one story I only tell when I’m drunk.” The vampire looked around the church basement at the rest of the group’s members, “but now that I’ve decided to join Gluttony Anonymous, I guess the story will never be told.” He sighed in despair and slumped back into the cheap metal chair.
Jasper McPhee, the organizer of the meeting, though none of the participants could say what sort of creature he was, smiled hopefully at the tall man who had just spoken. “Perhaps it’s best we don’t hear your story.”
“Hey am I the sole Human in the room? When I signed up for AA they told me this was the last session still available.” He had broken out in a sweat and his shaking hands were obvious to the others.
Jasper leaned forward on his seat and spoke directly to George. “You may be the only human but we all have the same problem and we’re here to support each other so that we may live meaningful and productive lives. While our stories will reveal intimacies we’re not a party of lovers. We don’t have to love each other, simply understand and sympathize.”
The draught of sunshine hovering above the chair to the left of Jasper spoke up in a surprising baritone voice. “I’m a pixy. I get high on pixy dust. Only a few lines and not more than two or three. It’s not pretty when I over indulge. The garden I’m in charge of is really special, full of flowers of all kinds and colours and vegetables to feed my family of 16. “But,”said in a tone of disgust, “when I get high I become manic and fly around wrecking all of my hard work. The kids and wife have had it with me and warned me that if I don’t get help they will leave and go over to Henry the pixy in the next garden. I must gain control of myself!”
The small girl with long blonde hair and huge blue eyes cleared her throat. “I’m Emily. I’m a faery and most creatures aren’t aware that if we drink just a drop of cream we can become quite nasty. Now I’m hoping to be someone’s fairy godmother when I’m older but if I continue on this path of destruction I’ll never attain my goal.” Tears welled up in her eyes making them appear luminous. She curled into her seat, her wings taunt against her body.
Jasper hummed a three chord blues tune then glared at the human and creatures around the room. “Well get over it people, and I do use the term loosely. We must forget our differences and concentrate on solving our problems. Be it too much blood for one, and he nodded to the undead guy, “or alcohol for George, we all suffer from gluttony. Search for the bright star. When we have fears we must learn control.
***
written for Blogophilia Week 5.7 Topic: Just A Drop Bonus Points: (Hard, 2 points) Include 2 John Keats poetry titles (Easy, 1 point) Mention “3 chord blues”Image may be NSFW.
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Image may be NSFW.Clik here to view.
