Writing Challenge: Romance is sometimes defined as: "A fictitiously embellished account or explanation, (i.e. We have been given speculation and romance instead of the facts.)." Write a story based on this definition including the following elements: exploding toilet(s), a chicken coop, a tea party, and a riding crop. Must also include the phrase: "You were right about everything, Sarah. I, Jareth the Goblin King, am a glittery jerk and I apologize and beg for your forgiveness."

The deadline for the challenge is December 22, 2011.

A/N: I am completely and totally off my rocker. And having been sicker than a dog the last five days, I'd say my loss of sanity is easily justifiable...

Do not shoot me...please. I own nothing, and my head is still so very stuffed up with this nasty bug...I'm dizzy just writing this drivel... :)

The blue jay is courtesy of Shinku's Tokens stories...and an unabashed plea for the continuing of said stories... :)

Sarah-not-GQ, I leave this offering for your review in the hopes it satisfies your challenge...(Sincerely, Sarah-not-Williams)

She had to be completely mocking him.

Jareth was certain of it when he noted the paper upon which her invitation had been penned. Where on earth did she get papyrus anyway? As far as he knew, her dead end job couldn't afford fancy writing implements; and unless she'd suddenly joined the Mafia, papyrus was way out of her pay scale.

Was that a wax seal on the bottom with her familiar stamped on it? Why did it look so very familiar anyway? He could swear that he had...oh never mind.

While the blue jay captured in mid-flight in the blood red stamp definitely became her personality, Sarah Williams had a magical sugar daddy somewhere. There was no other explanation for her new taste in royally embossed envelopes made of parchment from an ancient plant no longer available to the general public.

As he pondered the absolutely jealous rage that thought sent him into, he wondered at the flawed logic in his reasoning. Surely, she would not have stooped low enough to deliberately avoid the assistance he'd offered her? Would she? If she did, who had become her newest magic-wielding flame? And why was he not privy to such vital information?

He really needed better spies. The goblins were easily bought with her tempting promises of sugar plums and candy canes and hot cocoa with extra marshmallows.

Her kingdom as great, my ass. He thought despondently. She owns my ass and just delights in handing it to me wrapped up with silver paper and gold bows.

"You gonna stand there all day, playing twenty questions with yourself, or you gonna read her letter?" Higglesworth's gravelly voice caused Jareth to flinch and grimace as his disgraceful subject caught him unawares.

It would be the only time the dwarf found him in such an undignified fashion. After all, the Goblin King had appearances to keep up. Not to mention, Jareth hated it when Haggle was so damned astute.

"I'm contemplating the murder of a certain cowardly dwarf for bringing me something from that insufferable girl, when I specifically requested anything to do with her being avoided at all costs." He sniffed elegantly.

"Yah." Hoogle snorted in-elegantly. "Right. Just open the damn thing, you rat."

"Bog?" Jareth grinned madly and Hoglet snorted again.

"You have no power over me. Remember?"

Unfortunately he did remember that nasty little tidbit from his last encounter with his precious princess. She'd managed to gain amnesty and immunity for her three traitorous friends. He would never live down that particular battle of wits – especially since he lost it dismally.

Who knew Sorry was such a difficult game to win? Jareth swore Sarah cheated, but she held him to his word.

He didn't tell her that it was all worth it when her mocking rendering of, "What's said is said, Jareth" actually kind of turned him on. She would have castrated him faster than he could poof to a safer location.

Still, he did end up having to poof away quickly when he accidentally, sort-of, on purpose, exploded her toilet in retaliation. He cleaned it up – from a safe distance of course – but it gave him a chuckle when she swore up and down that her bathroom smelled like bog water for weeks after.

"Just open it, Jareth. I'm sick of waitin' and she insisted I take your reply back as soon as you gave it." Hogbottom made it quite clear that he was only doing it for his best friend – and unrequited love. Jareth took solace in that last fact as he deliberately stalled for a few more minutes.

Just to rub in that he could.

Finally, he slit the delicate envelope open and pulled out the equally delicate invitation, sniffing it with a sigh of satisfaction.

She'd spritzed it with that peach-scented perfume of hers. The little minx loved torturing him and he lapped it up like a dancing fool.

Not that he'd tell her that fact either.

Dear Jerketh, (It read, causing him to sigh like the love-sick fool that he was)

You are cordially invited to a tea party hosted by myself and a few of your more intelligent goblins, in honor of the thirteenth anniversary of your demise in the Labyrinth Games. (She DOES love me, he thought)

The password for this highly elite event is as follows: (And I do expect you to say this word for word, Goblin King)

"You were right about everything, Sarah. I, Jareth the Goblin King, am a glittery jerk and I apologize and beg for your forgiveness."

Sincerely,

Sarah Williams, Labyrinth Champion

PS. No riding crops, exploding toilets, or chicken coops allowed and if you step one toe out of line (ie. Kiss me, attempt to harass my person in ANY form, or bog any of my other guests) you will be banished from the tea party forthwith.

"Is she serious?" Jareth raised one brow incredulously at the dwarf who had suspiciously gained a nasty cough in the brief time in which he'd been reading the missive.

"Appears to be deadly serious." Higlet replied, the cough sounding so nearly like laughter, Jareth was tempted to risk Sarah's wrath just to bog the little twerp.

Only the reminder of the chicken coop incident forced a shudder from him and a complete reconsideration of the entire bogging scheme.

Just before Jareth decided to rip the invitation to shreds and say to hell with her, she's so not worth the agony she put him through – and there are many more fish in the sea – he noted a smaller bit of writing at the very bottom of the parchment. Squinting his eyes, he struggled to read the fine print.

Before you get your tight pants in a twist, O mighty one, you like me this way AND I stole the parchment paper and wax seal from your personal desk in your office…magical sugar daddy. Why do you keep a seal of MY familiar among your personal effects by the way? It's kind of creepy.

"Hoggle, I have a reply to send back with you." Jareth snapped to attention, his usually firm composure being held onto desperately by a thin shred of sanity.

"It's about time." Was the dwarf's openly laughing reply. Of all the insolent little…

"Tell her I will be most delighted to attend. And I have the password memorized as demanded."

"I'm sure she'll be delighted." He sounded anything but, though Jareth could care less what his former gardener thought.

He had proof that she loved him and it was irrefutable.

She'd mentioned his pants, his status as her benefactor, and the fact that he liked her all domineering and sassy.

Oh he would enjoy this particular celebration of his demise at her hands. He just hoped she had more of those sugar cookies she liked to bake. They were always shaped like owls and though she said it was because she could enjoy his defeat time and again, he knew better.

One day, if he had his way, she'd find out just how delightful the taste of his defeat really could be.