Authors' Notes: There are probably half a dozen stories similar to this one, but we're hoping that this one is unique. If we accidentally borrowed something from someone else's story, please tell us. A big thank you to Alexa for beta reading.
A Day In The Life Of Jareth
or
Living With Goblins
by
Dreamin' and ThursdaysChild
There is an old human saying -- "No rest for the wicked." Naturally, in my case, it would be "No rest for the incredibly sexy," or "No rest for the extremely well-endowed," but I digress. I was speaking of the events of this very long day, starting with this morning.
It was not quite dawn when I awoke to what initially looked like a blizzard in my room. Realizing that some of the goblins had chosen to have "the mama o' all pillow fights" in my room, I quickly threw them out. I still haven't removed all the feathers.
My day, of course, was far from over. Knowing I'd never get back to sleep, I got out of bed and went into the bathroom to start the shower. Halfway through singing "Love Me Tender," the water shut off. Shampoo dripping into my eyes and onto my robe, I made my way to the basement, only to find it flooded. Hem and Haw were standing by the water main, in water nearly up to their necks, which I was ready to wring.
"What the devil is going on here?"
"N-nothing, Yer Majesty," Hem stuttered. "We was just cleanin' up."
"See, Yer Majesty," Haw said, "Hem was playin' with his slingshot-"
"No I wasn't!"
"Hem was playin' with his slingshot and it went off and the rock hit the pipe and water started gushin' out and we didn't know what to do and..."
"And you let it flood the *entire* basement before you realized that you had to turn off the water, is that it?"
They were too intimidated to answer. Ah, it's so nice to be in charge. After calling for the royal plumber and leaving the wonder duo to clean up the water, I was able to finish my shower.
Then, of course, it was time to get dressed. I went into my walk-in closet. (A veritable godsend. No self-respecting king should be without one.)
"Now, shall I wear my black poets shirt, my white poets shirt, or my gray poets shirt?" The Fairy King, Delancey, was coming for dinner and I wanted to make a good impression. I decided on the white poets shirt easily enough, I just needed my favorite gray tights.
I found them properly folded and tucked away in their proper drawer. That the tights were not their proper size I imagine did not even occur to those halfwits. I seriously doubt they could fit a Ken doll. Skipper maybe, but not Ken. After thoroughly lecturing the laundry room staff on the proper use of dryer settings ("No, my tights are not to be dried on 'Chernobyl.'"), I decided to wear black leather pants and the white poets shirt. Not quite the fashion statement I wanted to make, but it was either that or go bottomless, and I didn't think King Delancey would appreciate that.
I had no problems with my make-up until I realized my mascara was missing. After a quick search of the castle, I found out Yin and Yang had it. Had they been wearing it, I would have simply given tips on how to apply it. Instead, they were EATING it! Yin had the wand in his mouth and Yang had black mascara all over his face.
"What do you think you're doing?" I demanded.
"Numphin'," Yin mumbled, his mouth full.
"We was just suckin' on yer lollipop," Yang said innocently.
They gave out such delightful screams as they fell into the Bog.
With new mascara, I carefully finished my make-up. Next, hair. Squeezing gel onto my hands, I tried to run it through my wet hair when my hands became stuck to my head. Alarmed, I turned to the gel bottle.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS SUPER GLUE DOING IN MY BATHROOM?!"
The walls literally shook, a lovely accompaniment to my ire. Ah, the joys of being me.
Incensed, I rushed out into the throne room, desperate to find the culprit. The goblins that were present were huddled in a corner, trembling with fear. Eventually, I got out of them that one of the repair goblins had been in my bathroom yesterday, repairing a mirror (one of many in there) that another goblin broke. Seven years bad luck is nothing compared to an irate Goblin King. Both goblins are spending the rest of the millennium rebuilding the bridge over the Bog.
Back to me. At this point, my hands were still stuck to my head. Blabber, one of my least favorite goblins, got the absolutely brilliant notion of having the goblins pull my hands away. Blabber grabbed one hand and Toadstool grabbed the other. They pulled as hard as they could but my hands didn't budge. Other goblins tried to help and I felt like I was in the middle of a goblin tug-of-war. Finally and with a great deal of pain on my part, they yanked my hands free.
Of course, they yanked out half my hair as well. I had Flotsam and Jetsam fetch my mirror. When they brought it out, I could see that I had two large, bald patches on the top of my head and both hands were covered with hair.
I'm sure people for fifty miles around heard my scream.
The hair and glue were impossible to get off my hands. I went back to my bathroom and managed to cut the hair short then slip on my black leather gloves. As for the bald spots, all I could think to do was cover my head with a black scarf. I was looking more piratical with each passing moment.
On my way to the dining room for breakfast, I passed the door to the throne room. Looking in, I saw that the goblins were having a "glitter war" -- throwing handfuls of glitter at each other, the animals, whatever moved. There were large piles of glitter everywhere. I sighed exasperatedly, too tired to punish them. "Just clean it up before I'm done with breakfast."
The usual goblin cook was ill (I heard something about food poisoning, but I'd rather not investigate), so some of the others made breakfast for me. Of course, they managed to burn everything but the orange juice. And the Listians wonder why I'm so thin.
To make matters worse, by the time I received my copy of the morning paper, there were several large holes in it. The goblins have a tendency to cut out all articles pertaining to them, and that is most of the paper. Giving up on breakfast, I went back to the throne room.
Luckily for the goblins, they had managed to clean up the glitter. As I was walking towards the throne, I heard a few of them snickering behind their hands. Naturally, I was immediately suspicious, but relaxed when I realized that they were goblins and incapable of coherent thought. As soon as I sat down, a loud BRAAAAP erupted from under me. My "loyal" subjects burst into laughter. Standing up, I saw a deflated whoopee cushion on the seat. Disgusted, I picked it up and held it out.
"Exactly who is responsible for this brilliant display of comic timing?"
The throne room was dead quite for about five seconds before the goblins started accusing each other. Knowing I'd never find out who the actual perpetrator was, I punished all of them by having them clean the room. Of course, the fates chose that moment to have another teenager wish away their younger sibling. A Goblin King's work is never done.
Thirteen hours later, I returned to the throne room to, amazingly, find it spotless. For once, the goblins actually did exactly as they were told. They even fixed the throne's creaking. One of the goblins was jabbering at me, trying to tell me something as I sat down. Of course, I wasn't listening. I hardly ever listen to those idiots.
A few minutes later, another goblin hurried into the room, saying that my guest had arrived. King Delancey walked into the throne room. (Though I'd much rather talk about myself, I'm sure one or two of you, maybe, are wondering what Delancey looks like. Very well.) One thing I will say about fairies -- they know how to dress. Since he's a king, Delancey is taller than your average fairy. About as tall as I am, with long blonde hair, blue eyes, and dark brows. Like every other fairy, he has pointed ears and insect-like wings, his being like those of a dragonfly. He has a large following of devoted women in several kingdoms, all of them wanting to be his Fairy Queen.
I stood up to greet him, and as I did so, I heard a loud RIIIIIP and when I turned, I could see the seat of my expensive leather pants stuck to the throne. Once again, the goblins broke into laughter. I turned back to them, furious, and saw that Delancey was grinning. That's when I remembered that instead of my usual BVDs, I was wearing my leopard-print thong. This day was not going well at all.
After quickly procuring yet another pair of pants (this pair being black leggings), I was ready to deal out punishment. The goblin that had been trying, though not hard enough, to get my attention was one of the repair goblins, and he had used super glue to fix the squeaking throne. After sending him to the Bog, I was finally ready to greet Delancey.
He smiled wide as he shook my hand. "So good to finally meet you, Jareth. I've heard some *very* good things about you," he glanced down and grinned back at me, "and I'm glad to see they're all true."
All I remember thinking was, *If he's saying what I think he's saying, no wonder he hasn't picked a wife yet.*
"Er, yes, my reputation has proceeded me, I see," I said, smiling and trying to appear relaxed, while inside, I was wanting this visit to be over yesterday.
The replacement goblin cook signaled that dinner was ready, so I lead Delancey to the dining room. Once we were seated, a serving goblin came in with a covered silver platter. He set it on the table then proudly lifted the lid. I could just feel myself turning green at the sight of a dead barn owl laid out on the platter, a peach in its mouth.
I turned to the goblin. "Is this your idea of a joke, Winkin?"
"Not me, Yer Majesty," Winkin said. "It were Blinkin and Nod's idea."
"Take it back, before I replace that owl with three goblins."
Winkin took the platter back in a hurry. I looked at Delancey, ready to apologize, when I saw that he was trying hard not to laugh. Sighing quietly, I watched as Winkin brought out our real dinner -- roast pheasant, whipped potatoes, and white wine.
While we ate, Delancey and I talked about our respective kingdoms. I asked him if he'd mind trading for a century or two. He laughed, thinking I was joking. Ah well. Maybe the Troll King will go for it.
After dinner, it was time for dessert. I told Winkin to bring out the fruit salad. He came back with a bowl of some of my "special" peaches.
Alarm shot through me. "Those aren't for guests, you imbecile!" I whispered furiously at the goblin. "Those are for wishers. Take them back immediately."
"Okay, Yer Majesty," Winkin said, "but these are the only fruits we got here."
*Unless you count Delancey,* I couldn't help but think. "Someone was supposed to go to the market and buy the fruit this afternoon. What the bloody hell happened?"
"Problems, Jareth?" Delancey asked innocently, though he was smiling like a moron.
"No, it's nothing," I said, feigning cheerfulness, though I was seething inside. I turned back to Winkin. "We'll skip dessert then, but don't think I will let this go unpunished."
While Winkin, Blinkin, and Nod cleaned up the dishes, I took Delancey back to the throne room to discuss business. While trade bores some people to death, it is necessary. After establishing that twenty chickens can be traded for one bow and thirty pigs for five arrows (We don't have much in this kingdom, but what we do have, we have a lot of.), Delancey and I said goodnight. Hopefully, I won't run into him again this millennium.
I was just getting ready for bed when the opening notes of "Macarena," played at full volume, reached my ears. So here I am, physically and mentally exhausted, and the stupid goblins are throwing a party. I have only one option.
"WHERE THE BLOODY HELL ARE MY EARPLUGS?"
The End
Disclaimer: We don't own Jareth or anything related to Labyrinth, though we'd like to. The names of the goblins Hem and Haw are from the book "Who Moved My Cheese?" Flotsam and Jetsam are named for the eels in "The Little Mermaid." Elvis Presley and probably a few others own "Love Me Tender." If you can recognize Delancey's physical description (sans the wings), kudos. Don't own "Macarena" either, and I'm glad for it.
A Day In The Life Of Jareth
or
Living With Goblins
by
Dreamin' and ThursdaysChild
There is an old human saying -- "No rest for the wicked." Naturally, in my case, it would be "No rest for the incredibly sexy," or "No rest for the extremely well-endowed," but I digress. I was speaking of the events of this very long day, starting with this morning.
It was not quite dawn when I awoke to what initially looked like a blizzard in my room. Realizing that some of the goblins had chosen to have "the mama o' all pillow fights" in my room, I quickly threw them out. I still haven't removed all the feathers.
My day, of course, was far from over. Knowing I'd never get back to sleep, I got out of bed and went into the bathroom to start the shower. Halfway through singing "Love Me Tender," the water shut off. Shampoo dripping into my eyes and onto my robe, I made my way to the basement, only to find it flooded. Hem and Haw were standing by the water main, in water nearly up to their necks, which I was ready to wring.
"What the devil is going on here?"
"N-nothing, Yer Majesty," Hem stuttered. "We was just cleanin' up."
"See, Yer Majesty," Haw said, "Hem was playin' with his slingshot-"
"No I wasn't!"
"Hem was playin' with his slingshot and it went off and the rock hit the pipe and water started gushin' out and we didn't know what to do and..."
"And you let it flood the *entire* basement before you realized that you had to turn off the water, is that it?"
They were too intimidated to answer. Ah, it's so nice to be in charge. After calling for the royal plumber and leaving the wonder duo to clean up the water, I was able to finish my shower.
Then, of course, it was time to get dressed. I went into my walk-in closet. (A veritable godsend. No self-respecting king should be without one.)
"Now, shall I wear my black poets shirt, my white poets shirt, or my gray poets shirt?" The Fairy King, Delancey, was coming for dinner and I wanted to make a good impression. I decided on the white poets shirt easily enough, I just needed my favorite gray tights.
I found them properly folded and tucked away in their proper drawer. That the tights were not their proper size I imagine did not even occur to those halfwits. I seriously doubt they could fit a Ken doll. Skipper maybe, but not Ken. After thoroughly lecturing the laundry room staff on the proper use of dryer settings ("No, my tights are not to be dried on 'Chernobyl.'"), I decided to wear black leather pants and the white poets shirt. Not quite the fashion statement I wanted to make, but it was either that or go bottomless, and I didn't think King Delancey would appreciate that.
I had no problems with my make-up until I realized my mascara was missing. After a quick search of the castle, I found out Yin and Yang had it. Had they been wearing it, I would have simply given tips on how to apply it. Instead, they were EATING it! Yin had the wand in his mouth and Yang had black mascara all over his face.
"What do you think you're doing?" I demanded.
"Numphin'," Yin mumbled, his mouth full.
"We was just suckin' on yer lollipop," Yang said innocently.
They gave out such delightful screams as they fell into the Bog.
With new mascara, I carefully finished my make-up. Next, hair. Squeezing gel onto my hands, I tried to run it through my wet hair when my hands became stuck to my head. Alarmed, I turned to the gel bottle.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS SUPER GLUE DOING IN MY BATHROOM?!"
The walls literally shook, a lovely accompaniment to my ire. Ah, the joys of being me.
Incensed, I rushed out into the throne room, desperate to find the culprit. The goblins that were present were huddled in a corner, trembling with fear. Eventually, I got out of them that one of the repair goblins had been in my bathroom yesterday, repairing a mirror (one of many in there) that another goblin broke. Seven years bad luck is nothing compared to an irate Goblin King. Both goblins are spending the rest of the millennium rebuilding the bridge over the Bog.
Back to me. At this point, my hands were still stuck to my head. Blabber, one of my least favorite goblins, got the absolutely brilliant notion of having the goblins pull my hands away. Blabber grabbed one hand and Toadstool grabbed the other. They pulled as hard as they could but my hands didn't budge. Other goblins tried to help and I felt like I was in the middle of a goblin tug-of-war. Finally and with a great deal of pain on my part, they yanked my hands free.
Of course, they yanked out half my hair as well. I had Flotsam and Jetsam fetch my mirror. When they brought it out, I could see that I had two large, bald patches on the top of my head and both hands were covered with hair.
I'm sure people for fifty miles around heard my scream.
The hair and glue were impossible to get off my hands. I went back to my bathroom and managed to cut the hair short then slip on my black leather gloves. As for the bald spots, all I could think to do was cover my head with a black scarf. I was looking more piratical with each passing moment.
On my way to the dining room for breakfast, I passed the door to the throne room. Looking in, I saw that the goblins were having a "glitter war" -- throwing handfuls of glitter at each other, the animals, whatever moved. There were large piles of glitter everywhere. I sighed exasperatedly, too tired to punish them. "Just clean it up before I'm done with breakfast."
The usual goblin cook was ill (I heard something about food poisoning, but I'd rather not investigate), so some of the others made breakfast for me. Of course, they managed to burn everything but the orange juice. And the Listians wonder why I'm so thin.
To make matters worse, by the time I received my copy of the morning paper, there were several large holes in it. The goblins have a tendency to cut out all articles pertaining to them, and that is most of the paper. Giving up on breakfast, I went back to the throne room.
Luckily for the goblins, they had managed to clean up the glitter. As I was walking towards the throne, I heard a few of them snickering behind their hands. Naturally, I was immediately suspicious, but relaxed when I realized that they were goblins and incapable of coherent thought. As soon as I sat down, a loud BRAAAAP erupted from under me. My "loyal" subjects burst into laughter. Standing up, I saw a deflated whoopee cushion on the seat. Disgusted, I picked it up and held it out.
"Exactly who is responsible for this brilliant display of comic timing?"
The throne room was dead quite for about five seconds before the goblins started accusing each other. Knowing I'd never find out who the actual perpetrator was, I punished all of them by having them clean the room. Of course, the fates chose that moment to have another teenager wish away their younger sibling. A Goblin King's work is never done.
Thirteen hours later, I returned to the throne room to, amazingly, find it spotless. For once, the goblins actually did exactly as they were told. They even fixed the throne's creaking. One of the goblins was jabbering at me, trying to tell me something as I sat down. Of course, I wasn't listening. I hardly ever listen to those idiots.
A few minutes later, another goblin hurried into the room, saying that my guest had arrived. King Delancey walked into the throne room. (Though I'd much rather talk about myself, I'm sure one or two of you, maybe, are wondering what Delancey looks like. Very well.) One thing I will say about fairies -- they know how to dress. Since he's a king, Delancey is taller than your average fairy. About as tall as I am, with long blonde hair, blue eyes, and dark brows. Like every other fairy, he has pointed ears and insect-like wings, his being like those of a dragonfly. He has a large following of devoted women in several kingdoms, all of them wanting to be his Fairy Queen.
I stood up to greet him, and as I did so, I heard a loud RIIIIIP and when I turned, I could see the seat of my expensive leather pants stuck to the throne. Once again, the goblins broke into laughter. I turned back to them, furious, and saw that Delancey was grinning. That's when I remembered that instead of my usual BVDs, I was wearing my leopard-print thong. This day was not going well at all.
After quickly procuring yet another pair of pants (this pair being black leggings), I was ready to deal out punishment. The goblin that had been trying, though not hard enough, to get my attention was one of the repair goblins, and he had used super glue to fix the squeaking throne. After sending him to the Bog, I was finally ready to greet Delancey.
He smiled wide as he shook my hand. "So good to finally meet you, Jareth. I've heard some *very* good things about you," he glanced down and grinned back at me, "and I'm glad to see they're all true."
All I remember thinking was, *If he's saying what I think he's saying, no wonder he hasn't picked a wife yet.*
"Er, yes, my reputation has proceeded me, I see," I said, smiling and trying to appear relaxed, while inside, I was wanting this visit to be over yesterday.
The replacement goblin cook signaled that dinner was ready, so I lead Delancey to the dining room. Once we were seated, a serving goblin came in with a covered silver platter. He set it on the table then proudly lifted the lid. I could just feel myself turning green at the sight of a dead barn owl laid out on the platter, a peach in its mouth.
I turned to the goblin. "Is this your idea of a joke, Winkin?"
"Not me, Yer Majesty," Winkin said. "It were Blinkin and Nod's idea."
"Take it back, before I replace that owl with three goblins."
Winkin took the platter back in a hurry. I looked at Delancey, ready to apologize, when I saw that he was trying hard not to laugh. Sighing quietly, I watched as Winkin brought out our real dinner -- roast pheasant, whipped potatoes, and white wine.
While we ate, Delancey and I talked about our respective kingdoms. I asked him if he'd mind trading for a century or two. He laughed, thinking I was joking. Ah well. Maybe the Troll King will go for it.
After dinner, it was time for dessert. I told Winkin to bring out the fruit salad. He came back with a bowl of some of my "special" peaches.
Alarm shot through me. "Those aren't for guests, you imbecile!" I whispered furiously at the goblin. "Those are for wishers. Take them back immediately."
"Okay, Yer Majesty," Winkin said, "but these are the only fruits we got here."
*Unless you count Delancey,* I couldn't help but think. "Someone was supposed to go to the market and buy the fruit this afternoon. What the bloody hell happened?"
"Problems, Jareth?" Delancey asked innocently, though he was smiling like a moron.
"No, it's nothing," I said, feigning cheerfulness, though I was seething inside. I turned back to Winkin. "We'll skip dessert then, but don't think I will let this go unpunished."
While Winkin, Blinkin, and Nod cleaned up the dishes, I took Delancey back to the throne room to discuss business. While trade bores some people to death, it is necessary. After establishing that twenty chickens can be traded for one bow and thirty pigs for five arrows (We don't have much in this kingdom, but what we do have, we have a lot of.), Delancey and I said goodnight. Hopefully, I won't run into him again this millennium.
I was just getting ready for bed when the opening notes of "Macarena," played at full volume, reached my ears. So here I am, physically and mentally exhausted, and the stupid goblins are throwing a party. I have only one option.
"WHERE THE BLOODY HELL ARE MY EARPLUGS?"
The End
Disclaimer: We don't own Jareth or anything related to Labyrinth, though we'd like to. The names of the goblins Hem and Haw are from the book "Who Moved My Cheese?" Flotsam and Jetsam are named for the eels in "The Little Mermaid." Elvis Presley and probably a few others own "Love Me Tender." If you can recognize Delancey's physical description (sans the wings), kudos. Don't own "Macarena" either, and I'm glad for it.