A light breeze caressed the long grass of Thalia meadow in the heart of Nymphasia, where the fairies passed many a long summer’s afternoon, reclining on long blades of grass until the rays of the setting sun sent them scurrying home to the glades of Aglaia Wood.
Tigrou dangled her dimpled legs over each side of her blade, where she perched , swaying back and forth in rather an ungainly fashion. She hummed a tuneless melody, which no one had heard before and probably never wished to hear again. The other fairies languished comfortably on their blades, enjoying the splendour and peace of a warm afternoon spent in the company of friends.
Apart from the occasional hum of a passing bee or the chirping of an exuberant sparrow, there was only Tigrou’s dirge to disturb the tranquillity of an otherwise peaceful hour.
Clio, who was not known for her tolerance of Tigrou’s idiosyncrasies, felt a growing sense of annoyance, as the tempo of Tigrou’s humming intensified and she now seemed to be blowing raspberries, presumably imitating the sound of a trumpet. Clio felt her stomach tightening into a knot of frustration. Why on earth was Tigrou always so attention seeking? She had been making an effort to ignore what she regarded as an assault on her senses, but finally she could stand it no more.
‘For goodness sake, Tigrou,’ she said crossly, ‘Stop making that infernal noise. And don’t sit like that. It is most unbecoming to loll with your legs apart like that. Why do you always have to spoil things?’
Tigrou stopped humming and looked at Clio in a crestfallen sort of way, which would have made the latter feel ashamed of her ill humour, had she not known Tigrou better. This was simply one of Tigrou’s well worn ploys to make others feel sorry for her.
‘It’s not fair’ said Tigrou in a plaintive voice. ‘You know I am composing a song to welcome Artemis when she returns. I have so little time with all the lines which you give me to do. I would have thought you might be more understanding. I am heart-broken. My musical compositions are the only way I have of expressing my grief. I am highly creative and must give vent to the inspiration of the Muses.’
As she spoke, Tigrou’s voice trembled with something resembling passion. Her light green eyes narrowed as she sat up and glared indignantly at Clio, pulling her legs together and smoothing down the folds of her short orange and black striped sleeveless silk dress. It was rather too short, as were many of Tigrou’s costumes, revealing her short, plump thighs and often her panties which always matched her outlandish dresses. They had been made for her by her long-suffering Mistress, Artemis who was indulgent over Tigrou’s somewhat exhibitionist and eccentric taste in clothing. Some felt that Artemis had been rather too indulgent with Tigrou and that was part of the problem. Clio was amongst those numbers and she felt the desire to redress matters, which probably explained her harsh and often uncompromising attitude towards the wayward blonde fairy. Clio was decidedly Brunette and currently she was very conscious of her ’duty’ where Tigrou was concerned since Artemis’ departure.
‘Musical compositions, my foot,’ she sneered at Tigrou’s grandiloquence. ‘My dear, you know nothing about music, and I do not believe the heavenly Muses would waste their time on such as you. You are simply showing off and we have all made too many allowances for you since Artemis left. I for one will not tolerate such irritating behaviour. It is high time that someone took you in hand.’
‘Took me in hand?’ said Tigrou in a startled voice. ‘I’m sure that won’t be necessary. I’ll be quiet now,’ she pleaded, adding in a very quiet and tremulous voice, ‘I promise, Clio.’
Clio was not convinced. Leniency had never paid off where Tigrou was concerned, as she had learnt from long experience. Tigrou needed a lesson and it was her duty to give it. She sat up slowly and looked at Tigrou whose demeanour was suddenly much more appropriate and submissive.
‘You will see me this evening at 6 p.m. at the Toadstool. You are irritating and insolent. I will deal with this matter.’
‘But Clio,’ said Tigrou, knowing as she spoke that her argument would have no effect on the stately Clio, ‘I didn’t mean any harm, I’m sure. I was just feeling sad. I am so lonely since Artemis left. Please don’t punish me. I’m very sorry. I won’t do it again.’ Tears sprang to her eyes as she spoke and every one else felt a rush of pity for the poor plump little fairy, everyone of course except Clio who will not be remembered for her patience or compassion. No one spoke, as things seemed to have taken a more serious turn. A frisson of excitement was felt by each and every blonde in the party, as Clio rose from her blade and said coldly,’
‘I will not spare you Tigrou. We have all felt that your behaviour of late has shown no improvement. You are selfish and vain. It is time you learnt to live more harmoniously with your compatriots.’ Clio paused here for dramatic effect and continued, ‘ Your Mistress left you in my charge when she ascended to the Ethereal Realms. She went away because she was tired of your blonde tantrums. When she returns, I wish her to feel that you have made some progress in terms of your behaviour. I will see you at 6 p.m. Please make sure that you are correctly dressed for the occasion.’ With this, Clio turned to the other fairies,
‘Good afternoon ladies,’ she said. ‘My afternoon is spoilt and I will now wend my way homewards to Aglaia Wood. I am in need of a period of reflection before my appointment with Tigrou this evening.’
Clio was rather flushed with her own self importance at this point and she was aware of the affect her words were having on all present, particularly Tigrou, whose chubby countenance seemed filled with panic. Clio gathered her things together preparing to depart. Tigrou was truly sorry now, as the thought of her 6 o’clock appointment loomed large in the not so distant future. Her blonde curls tumbled over face as she shook her head in a gesture of despair and burst into sobs. Tigrou never wasted an opportunity to make herself the centre of attention
Clio looked on coldly. She was a striking figure with her piercing brown eyes and shock of thick auburn hair. Her height and her large frame added to the general feeling of strength and vigour, which one experienced when beholding her. She wore her sleeveless dress of navy cotton to the knee, gathered into the waist with a black sash, the effect of which was to emphasise her rounded voluptuous breasts. She was solid and statuesque, as she stood over Tigrou who was now rolling on the floor, sobbing hysterically.
‘I can’t breathe,’ she screamed hysterically, gulping and coughing with great abandon. She clutched at her throat wildly. ‘I’m hyperventilating! Bring me some salts. Save me from the clutches of death.’
The other blondes gathered around Tigrou, offering her smelling salts and kissing her fevered brow.
‘I don’t think Tigrou should be punished tonight, said the sweet blonde, Aphrodite, and surprised everyone including herself, who was usually so timid and quiet, that she would never have considered challenging the authority of her Mistress to whom she was completely submissive. Tigrou lay in Aphrodite’s long graceful arms resting her head on the beautiful blonde’s equally long slender legs. She looked up at the rise and fall of Aphrodite’s ample breasts as she spoke to her Mistress.
‘Tigrou has suffered. She is still suffering. She has lost her Mistress and her heart is breaking.’ With this, she gently caressed Tigrou’s cheek and stared into her sad, tearful green eyes. ( It has to be said that Aphrodite sometimes enjoyed a little drama as much as Tigrou)
‘Humbug!’ said Clio, eying Aphrodite with disapproval. ‘You get above yourself my dear. I will see you at the Toadstool at 5 p.m. sharp. Tigrou’s naughty behaviour is obviously highly infectious.’ Aphrodite trembled. She saw by the brisk movement of Clio’s shoulders as she walked away, that she was very angry. Aphrodite was sorry and wanted to run after her, but she knew that there would be no pacifying Clio now. She dreaded the smack she would get. She knew that she was in the wrong, and as she watched her Mistress becoming smaller and smaller in the distance, she felt deep regret that she had hurt her so greatly by being insubordinate. Clio was right. Missy Tigrou’s naughtiness was catching.
Whilst the other blondes fussed and petted the poor Tigrou, Aphrodite disengaged herself from the fat little fairy’s arms and walked silently home pondering the events of the last half an hour, which had provoked such unpleasant results.
Tigrou was such a problem. Despite repeated warnings and many beatings, Tigrou continued to break her sacred Bond and her dear Mistress’ heart. Aphrodite had seen poor Artemis crying silently many a time. Those tears were not like Tigrou’s crocodile tears. They were tears of genuine sorrow and pain, tears of blood from Tigrou‘s cruel wounds. Aphrodite’s chest hurt at the thought of Artemis’ deep sadness. Artemis was as good and true as an arrow. She did not deserve such treatment thought Aphrodite, who loved Artemis better than anyone, except of course her own Mistress. One day Aphrodite found Artemis in a pool of blood beneath the Great Sycamore Tree in the clearing beyond the stream. She had slashed at her own legs with the jagged edges of a broken bottle which the ugly Drongos had left in their wake as they trespassed in Aglaia Wood. That was the day that Tigrou had run away.
Aphrodite knew that Tigrou often disrupted the passage of celestial
love which passed so mysteriously through the Golden Chain of the sacred hierarchical,
feminine order. Clio was right to be strict with Tigrou, mused Aphrodite as
she arrived at her dwelling and prepared to see her Mistress.