This call, however, caused Peterson to sit bolt upright in his office chair. "Could you repeat that, please? I can barely hear -- what? I'll be right there!"
He didn't need the panicked voice to confirm his suspicions. He had heard enough, and what he heard caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand at attention.
Fairies.
Throwing his gear in the back of his truck, Peterson started the engine and rushed to the address he had hastily scribbled onto the back of his Taco Bell napkin. He patted the sweat droplets already forming on his fevered brow. What was he getting himself into?
He arrived at his destination. No need to check the address; he could already hear the shrieks of maniacal laughter and ear-piercing, high-pitched chatter coming from inside the house. As he exited his truck, something on the ground caught his eye.
He knelt down, gingerly extended a finger to touch the sparkly residue, looked closely at it, and held it to his nose. The glittering fuschia confetti with the sugar plum fragrance confirmed his worst fears.
He was dealing with Flower Fairies, and from the look of things, it was more than one. Steeling his resolve, he stood and followed the walkway to the front door. Before he could even ring the doorbell, a panicked woman opened the door.
"Fairies?" he said, and as the woman nodded, he asked, "How many?"
"Twelve!" she declared tearfully. "Twelve Flower Fairies!"
Peterson suddenly regretted eating Chalupas for lunch, as the contents of his stomach lurched ominously. He reached for his walkie talkie. "Johnson," he murmured into the receiver, "I'm gonna need backup on this one."
He gazed to his right, and saw something that pierced him to the core:
This was no accidental infestation. These fairies were invited. By whom, he didn't know. Why, he couldn't say. One thing he did know, was that once fairies were invited, they didn't want to leave. He knew this was going to be the hardest case of his fifteen-year career.
He spoke once again into his walkie talkie, "Johnson, stop by the bakery on your way over. We're going to need some buttercream, maybe some cookies." He listened to his partner's puzzled response. "We don't have time for questions, Johnson, just DO IT!"
Craig Peterson turned to his trembling client and said, "Ma'am, put on a pot of coffee. This is going to take some time."
