“I am the Fairy of Realness,” she announced and curtsied before the professor.

“Bug!” said the professor. “There’s a bug in here.” She swatted at the fairy with her notebook.

The fairy, terrified, flew to the ceiling and out the door.

In the hallway just outside the classroom she found a corner of the ceiling to float in and she cried and cried. She had tried to tell them, tell the professor who she was exactly, why should she be a welcome member of the experimental poetry class.

Later she cried to Randy Elf at New York Pizza.

“Whatever, you just have to get over it,” he mumbled. “They used to do that shit to me before they realized I could actually write things.”

The class was just too large; that was what it was; the professor needed to get rid of people so she could actually teach them. Maybe the fairy would register earlier next time and actually get a spot in the class.