by Five Sisters

Created on: September 27, 2009   Last Updated: September 28, 2009

Crafted in crimson, velvet in touch, made of material that could wrap the world in the most mysterious hug, it sat in a corner, not alone, but sandwiched between a bunny's basket and a tattered tooth satchel. Together they rested on a mountain of mothballs and waited as dark fell and the possibility of use rose.

Knowing the odds, the velvet bag and bunny basket settled down deeper into the lump of old closet stink while the satchel checked seams and tightened its cord knowing it was always on call.

With timing as tight as a tock of Big Ben, the door slammed open just in front of a fluttering pair of wings. Working merely in the fantastic glow of her fluorescent aura and with more haste than even she considered "fairily" possible, she grabbed the bag and in a shot was gone.

Yes, she grabbed the bag.

Yes, she was gone; and she wouldn't be back for hours.

A call had come in earlier that day to Tooth Fairy Central with information that the cache around the world this night would be like no other. With that conundrum on hand and a printed transcript for proof she flew up to the North Pole bundled tightly in fleece and asked to see the president and CEO of North Pole Enterprises. Because he wasn't available, Santa himself came out to see to the needs of their very special visitor. Being genuinely amiable and agreeable by nature and use to granting wishes by the millions, permission was easily conceded and the bag would be hers to use for the night.

Paying no mind to the fact that the bag was six hundred times the size of her, she flew effortlessly off to collect baby enamel from various parts of the world. She treasured her job. She lovingly admired the children she visited and she cherished collecting the precious bits they worked so hard at growing, brushing, and wiggling - not one ever the same. More than anything else she believed the most enchanting part of her job was propping her special gifts under their pillows as they slept - a reciprocation of sorts - an act of thanks for their amazing donation.

But on this one night it didn't take long before things got very confusing for as she reached into the bag to pull out her parting gifts the unthinkable happened. The bag wasn't empty, no, that wasn't the problem. The bag was spilling over with gifts. The problem was that the gifts were not trinkets, they were trucks...and dolls and cell phones and DS's and bicycles and puppies and board games and over stuffed, stuffed animals and kitchen sets and skateboards and...

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