Pixies look cute, all right.
They're not so cute anymore when they decide to redecorate your garden, replacing tomatoes with nightshade, the plastic chairs with toadstools, and apples with dead fish - something about pretty glittering scales, my neighbour thinks. Or when they cut holes into your tyres to turn them into pixie nest boxes.
That's more than annoying, but then they ate my cat.
I'd been trying to get rid of the gluttonous fleabag for years, but it kept coming back. The pixies hadn't pissed into my briefcase, so it might turn out a good trade. Maybe even cheaper.
(This drabble sprang from an attempt at a six word story that went "Then the pixies ate my cat".)
