The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped in a five-pound n-
"And how would you like a trip to the seaside, Sarah?"
Sarah jumped and the book fell. Gloved hands shot out and caught it mid-descent.
"Dear dear, one would think you were reading literature of a more salacious nature! Not an anthology of nonsense poems and what not."
The Goblin King's tone was sly and provocative.
"One would think-" He leaned even closer. "One would think, precious, that you would have something to hide."
Sarah glared and tried her hardest not to grit her teeth like a child. As a matter of fact, there was something she had been especially careful to not make overt references to her Underground friends, for what there did not have eyes and ears?
"What do you want?"
He was ever the tone of utmost surprise and innocence.
"Why, perusing literary texts is not acceptable behavior in public?"
"What reason would the King of the Goblins have to 'peruse literary texts' in a mortal Aboveground shop", Sarah demanded, eyes darting around to see if any customers had noticed the usual guest in the shop. To her horror and admittedly, amusement, she spotted several goblins about. A green scaly tail deftly whacked Ireland for the New Traveler out of an elderly gentleman's hands, then disappeared faster than you could say 'Bog-me-nott'! (Incidentally, a rather interesting bloom which grows only near a certain Bog of Eternal Stench.)
His smile, if possible, grew even more smug.
"A mortal gift for a mortal boy."
He made as if to turn around but then caught her widened eyes again and said casually, "A temporarily mortal boy, perhaps…"
"Who told you?!" Sarah grabbed his arm. "Who told you about Toby's birthday!?"
He didn't seem to mind her grip, and leaned against the shelf looking down into her. The smile she thought that couldn't get wider did, of course. Devious Fae bastard.
"And he'll always be mortal!", she snapped, as an afterthought.
"Six is an important year, Sweet. The only reason I haven't appeared on his birthdays sooner is because he wouldn't be quite ready for the rumpus we'll unleash."
"You are not celebrating with us and there will be no rumpus." If looks could smell, Sarah's would be Eau de Bog. (Not Bog-me-notts, though, because they, curiously enough, have absolutely no scent whatsoever.)
Jareth continued as if he had not heard her, never breaking eye contact.
"Time is somewhat imperative to birthdays, isn't that so, Precious? I can do quite a bit in that area, as you may well recall."
Taking it away unfairly! her mind automatically shot back.
"And so it is with great pleasure that I extend this invitation to you for a party of sorts to be held on the birthday of Master Tobias."
And with that , Sarah found that her hand no longer held his arm, but a large foamy green envelope. Jareth was gone.
...
I hope you do like the seaside, Pussy-Cat.
Outside, a white owl preened at his reflection in the shop window. Then, stretching its wings, it took off and soared away.
This will be a multi-chapter story. There will be more allusions to the poem further on.
Please review! Be honest! Be cruel!
No, please don't be cruel. Also, suggestions are welcome!
