The Day the Pixies Ate My Shoes

The problem with being an apprentice to a trickster god is their multiple problems.

First off, trickster gods have big egos, which makes them distinctly unlikeable, and their quarters are ungodly hot. Like, seriously. We live on the sub-second level of a basement, and underneath our room is a generator that powers the sky-hovering-operation-so-the-mountain-stays-in-the sky. Honestly, why Merlin doesn’t power it with his magic is a mystery, but all the gods think they’re too good for simple tasks, so guess who’s in charge of those tasks? Yeah, you guessed it: me.

Second, Hermes is a pain in the butt, and don’t even get me started on Loki, Anansi, or Eris, or the other one whose name I can never remember. Nobody knows Brazen (my master) either, which, adding to his repulsive dietary habits and enlarged ego, made him the most unpopular god on Mount Olympus. I could write a book on Brazen’s stupidity, but then I’d be cast off down to Earth as a mere mortal. I don’t even know which mythology Brazen’s from.

Oh, and don’t even get me started on Mount Olympus. No, the place is great but oh how the gods/goddesses argue about its name! Either it has to be of Norse origin or Arthurian descent or what-have-you. Since the 25th century, all the gods and goddesses from every human mythology ever established joined in “harmony” to go knocking at Zeus’s door. He had a lot of debt to pay off to the others, and Hades started a workers’ union in the Underworld, so Zeus being Zeus, opened up Mount Olympus to be a sort of hotel with permanent residents. Of course, he also speared off two people’s heads because they started arguing about towels. Man, that guy has to control his temper.

“Jasper, I know you’ve been ignoring my speech!”

“Talking pendants don’t make speeches, and no, I’m not pulling a prank on April first. First of all, it’s cursed. Secondly, your pranks never work, and third, I’m tired of taking orders from a necklace.” Yeah, that’s another problem. My master got himself trapped in a necklace, reduced to pint-size atoms to match his pint-size brain. Some trickster god he is.

“That’s no way to talk to your master! You’re my apprentice, and you’re the one who got me trapped here in the first place. I command you to pull the prank on the gods and goddesses, Jasper. And April first isn’t cursed!”

Sighing, I raised the necklace to my face and fixed the man inside with a cold stare. Not this argument again. Either way, I wasn’t going to do anything foolish today, or ever, though I guess doing foolish things was part of the trickster god’s apprentice bonus package. The sole reason Brazen chose me to be his mentee was because I asked no tough questions or any questions at all.

“Yeah, today’s cursed. I didn’t get you stuck in the stupid necklace—you got yourself stuck, old-man. If I recall correctly, you tripped on a wrench and landed in the holding amulet I was making. Maybe you should’ve gotten your eyes checked before you decided to go gallivanting into my personal space!” Immediately, out of habit, I clamped my hand over my mouth, knowing I’d said too much. Let the man have it—he deserved the truth out of me.

“Hey now, my eyes are in mint condition, and it was your fault. Your room is like a bomb waiting to explode. I’m not that old, only a couple thousand centuries, and April first isn’t cursed! It was the day my great-great-grandfather Horatius poisoned Merlin, the wizard, and established National Prank Day in the human world, such a triumph in our history. What, may I ask, is better than pulling a prank on national prank day?”

I resisted the urge to pull my hair out, but I didn’t remind him of the real story; the one where Merlin bonked that goon Horatius on the head with his staff, killing Horatius and cursing April first for all trickster gods. The story: courtesy of Hermes. He loved telling embarrassing stories of Brazen’s youth. He liked telling embarrassing stories of everyone’s youth, but I had to go there often to get supplies for our numerous failed pranks. Also, he was the only one who had the admittance codes to the Roman and Greek legion of gods/goddesses’ rooms. Nobody bothered with Anansi or Loki. Unlike Brazen and I, their pranks actually succeeded.

“…The only reason I haven’t been able to live up to my trickster god potential is that someone accidentally locked me in a pendant! The gods/goddesses love me! Well, maybe Merlin doesn’t love me, but that’s why you’re the bait! All you have to do is release the pixies into their meeting room undetected, and presto! The plan worked. I can’t go down in history like Horatius without a single achievement to my name! Jasper, are you even paying attention?”

Quickly, I busied myself with examining a spot of dust in the back of the closet where we kept our materials. Wow, Hermes was going to get a kick out of this one. I thought Brazen said pigeons, not pixies! From inside the pendant, the man tilted his head, hearing the faint ruffling of feathers and squawking noises inside the closet.

“Jasper, did you steal the Greek and Roman legion of gods and goddesses’ pigeons? I. Asked. For, PIXIES! What kind of a fool am I training? Get your ears checked, boy! It’s a good thing I ordered a bag last week, though they might all be dead…”

Before I could reply that I hadn’t gotten any training at all, my phone buzzed impatiently. Oh, no. The legion was calling. What on Olympus was I supposed to do with those pigeons? Smiling sheepishly down at the raving man inside my pendant, I picked up the phone and answered.

“Um, yes, I’m Jasper. Yeah, I’m his apprentice. Uh, okay? Wait, all of the pigeons? Don’t you Greeks and Romans have a lot of pigeons? I couldn’t have stolen all of them! Steal? Oh, I didn’t stay steal, I said heel, like you know, Achilles, Heel!”

Wow, the Greeks and Romans sure didn’t like jokes. Now I was screwed, and since I was already in too deep, there was no harm in performing the cursed prank anyway.

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“Alright, which way to the gods’ chambers again? The pixies are squirming, and this bag is heavy. Can I resign from helping you even though the prank hasn’t officially begun yet? Hey necklace, I’m talking to you. If the pixies escape the room, they’ll be stupid enough not to escape the building, but they love eating shoes, and you know how much Zeus values his shoe collection.”

Wheezing and panting, I dropped the bag full of pixies which were sure to cause quite a stir in the grand palace we never got invited.

“Not their chambers, their meeting room! We’ve rehearsed this at least ten times already. You’ll go inside, drop the pixies where the gods from all the sections will be meeting, and run for your life. Don’t worry, Jasper. The pixies won’t escape unless the gods freak out, which isn’t likely because they’re gods.”

Slowly, I creaked open the closet entrance Hermes had to the meeting room and disabled the cameras lining the room, gingerly placing the pixies on the tile. Honestly, I didn’t know why they even installed cameras when they knew tricksters lived next door to their meeting rooms. Kudos to the engineer for being a Class-A idiot while designing the floor plan.

Suddenly, the closet door slammed and locked behind me, trapping me with angry gods discussing some Olympus law and Zeus’s air-conditioning problem. At least they hadn’t seen me yet, but since the exit was off-limits, I was one of the pixies targets. Brazen was slamming his fists against the pendant, angrily shouting not-so-nice words at the closet.

“Hermes! You said I could come through here!”

His annoyingly calm voice responded from the other side. “I only said you could come through, son. I ain’t said nothing about coming back in.”

Then, I had to watch as the pixies emerged from the bag, munching on Zeus’s shoe collection, devouring Merlin’s staff, playing with Hera and Demeter’s hair, and tickling a hiding Anansi. But worst of all was the pixies attaching themselves to my legs, eating away at my shoes.

“Uh-oh. The pixies are EATING MY SHOES, and I think Hera saw me, but maybe she thinks I’m a marble statue. Whatever, but the pixies ARE EATING MY SHOES! This day is the worst day of my life, and Hera saw me creeping around back here. The pixies are still EATING MY SHOES! Oh, and there goes Zeus’s shoe collection. There goes Merlin’s staff. The pixies ATE MY SHOES!!!”

“Lord save me. Wait, Merlin’s staff? Zeus’s shoe collection? They’re going to kill me, boy, and then you’ll be left miserably alone for the rest of your life, and all you care about are your shoes! If I could, I’d gather up all the pixies in a bag and—”

For once, my master remained quiet, and though this was probably the worst moment in my incredibly short life, I was glad to have a break from his mouth diarrhea, until I looked up from the necklace and saw thirty angry gods staring at me.

And they looked angry.

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Okay, so remember how earlier, I was telling you how bad it is to be a trickster gods’ apprentice? That was one of the moments where it truly sucked to be me, though Brazen and Hermes got their own severe talking-to’s (or, at least as severe as a talking-to can get for a man in a necklace).

So, that’s how I ended up catching the annoying pixies and then going up seven floors to clean Zeus’s penthouse suite and fix his air conditioning problems: courtesy of Anansi. Zeus kind of forgave me about his shoe collection, which, in literal terms, means he hasn’t speared me with a lightning bolt yet.

Merlin, on the other hand, banished me to New York City. His staff is was basically a part of him, and as Brazen tells it, it was as if the pixies chomped the wizard’s arms off or skewered his head. Oh, and did I mention it contained all of his magic?

I told Brazen that I’d skewer his head and toss him out the window if he’d ever sent me off to pull a prank on the gods again. But in reality, NYC isn’t so bad. When I return to Mount Olympus, I’ll start calling the old wizard a new name; Merl. I think it’s cool. Hermes thinks it’s stupid, but for now, Zeus is madder at Hermes than me. (Hermes ate his entire stash of chips).

Yeah, the day the pixies ate my shoes wasn't all that fun, and I still have fifty pigeons in my room which I don’t know what to do with. I’ve considered dumping them off at the Roman and Greek legion, but I didn’t think they’d like another incident.

That’s the karma I got, pulling a stupid prank on a cursed day.