You have to be bloody joking. When the selkie said transformation, this is not what I had in mind. I’ve read fairy stories. Hell, I love fairy stories. Got more fairy stories in my gaff than there’s Irn Bru in Paisley. Seriously. I’m practically a fairy queen, so I know the deal.
Read the small print. Always read the bloody small print or before you can say “Superkalefrage-whatever” you’ve lost your first born to a ginger dwarf.
But selkies aren’t fairies are they? Not really. They’re sea-slick sexy fuckers with a glint in their eye and a penchant for having in quick and dirty in a rock pool right? No strings attached. No mini-breaks to Tír Na Nog that take a century or two off your life.
I did everything right. Seven tears in the sea... well that wasn’t hard. Fucking Cameron. The trip to Orkney was supposed to be romantic, not an excuse for him to get rat-arsed and plaster himself over the nearest slut. Again.
Well fuck that. So I had a cry? What of it. Wouldn’t be the first time. I deserved to get my own back. Wouldn’t be the first time for that either. Last time it was his brother, on the back seat of the dickhead’s Ford Fiesta. Served him right.
But a selkie. That beats some skinny ned who lasts fifteen seconds and then wants a second go. I don’t think so, Finlay. No chance. A selkie though, looking like Chris Hemsworth mixed with Hugh Jackman’s better looking brother. Arse you could ping a pound coin off, naked as sin.
Yeah, I’d say that was better.
Told me he’d change me forever.
He didn’t tell me his middle name was Puck, the twat. Could’ve been worse I suppose. Could’ve been a donkey.
In my joy that it's Friday this story has a very different take from my previous Faerypin entries (part of Anna Meade's Faerypin contest. We've had loneliness and heartbreak, we've had hauntings... I thought this time I'd go for a mildly unpleasant character with a comic twist.