David Michael Starsky's semi-trained voice drifted over the sunlit
meadow, reaching the ears of his partner, Ken Hutchinson. Hutch
let out a heavy sigh of impatience. //"I've heard of liking a song, but
really...!// "Starsk?"
"Yeah?" The reply seemed strangely disembodied; but, then, when
you're lying in the middle of a meadow of tall grass.....
"How many times are you gonna sing that song?"
"Whatsamatter with it?"
Hutch chuckled at the indignation in Starsky's voice. "It's getting a
little old, partner. And, speaking of old..." His chuckle deepened as
he heard the offended snort. Ignoring it, Hutch went in the kill.
"Aren't you a little too old to be singing kiddie songs?"
Immediately there a dark mop of curls appeared above the tall
grass. "Whadda ya mean 'kiddie songs'!? I'll have you know, my
too adult friend, that Mary Martin's Peter Pan is a classic musical;
'sides, that song is one of the prettiest in the entire score."
With that, the dark curly mop disappeared, once more, beneath the
waves of grass.
Hutch shook his head in mock exasperation. He so loved teasing his
dearest friend in all the world and, more recently, his lover;
especially when Starsky got into one of his 'weirds'; yet, so many of
them made his partner the endearing person he was. "Fine", he
retorted, "but do you have to sing it twenty times?"
"Eighteen", came the correction.
Hutch groaned. "All right, already. Don't get so technical."
"I like ta be precise. As to your question..Yes." A deep, wistful sigh
rose into the air. " Of course, I don't expect a man who doesn't
believe in Fairies to understand."
"Well; listen to Mr. Spock! Listen Starsk, if ignorance is bliss, I'll
gladly remain the most blissful man where that subject is
concerned."
Another sigh - of reverence, this time. "Forgive him, Tinker Bell,
for he knows not what he sayeth."
"Grow up, willya!" It came out harsher than Hutch had intended.
Up until now, the conversation had been one of good-natured
teasing. "Now, David Starsky caught the hint of anger in his
friend's voice. He kept his own voice calm, yet serious. "Careful,
babe. We who believe, and are forever children in our hearts, are
forever protected by the Children of the Light."
This time it was the blond head that appeared above the grass.
"That does it!" Hutch stood up, brushed the excess grass from his
jeans, and stalked over the where he partner lay. Standing over
the prone figure, he glared down at his friend's face, his light blue
eyes flashed in the sunlight. "I came out here to enjoy a peaceful
summer's day with the one man on Earth I've ever loved", he
paused to snatch a quick breath, then continued, "and what does he
do - keeps singing some kiddie song and talks about 'Children of the
Light'! Well, you know where you can stick 'em, don't you,
Starsk!?"
Immediately Starsky sat up almost unbalancing his partner. There
was real fear in the dark blue eyes. "Hutch! Take it back, babe!
Take...!!"
The warning came too late. Kenneth Hutchinson's mortal form
vanished.
SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH
"Hi, babe! Jeez, but you're magnificent!"
//Whaddaya mean, I'm magnificent!? What's happened to me!?
Why are my clothes not on my body!?//
David Starsky had to will himself not to laugh, as Hutch's mind-thoughts reached his ears. //Reminds me of those melds Kirk and
Spock have in those erotic zines// When he had sat up, uttering his
desperate plea for Hutch to revoke his mockery of the Faerie Folk,
he had a feeling it was already too late. Slowly, as not to frighten
the creature before him, Starsky had made his approach. To his
delight, the creature remained stationary. //By the Gods, he's
beautiful; and it fits him, too!//
Having successfully controlled himself, he simply turned his already
broad grin into a full smile. "Can't blame me this time. You see,
you're a butterfly; an exquisite, golden, tiger-striped butterfly!"
For a moment there was only the sighing of the summer breeze and
the flutter of delicate wings; as the implications finally sank in, that
tempo changed to a furious beating. //I'm what!!?? Starsky, if this is
a joke...!!!//
"No joke, Hutch. See." Starsky drew out the small wallet-sized
mirror, a gag gift from Hutch on his last birthday, and held it up
before the butterfly.
//Oh my God!!// Echoed across the field. //No! Starsk, what
happened!???//
When he finally spoke, Starsky's cobalt blue eyes were grim, his lips
were set in a tight smile; the deep voice was stern. "I warned you.
You mocked The 'Fair Folk', Hutch. They were offended and have
punished you."
//Shift!// A defeated sigh. //Okay. What do I have to do to get them
to forgive me?//
The brunette's face paled. "I really don't know, Hutch." The wings
beat furiously again. "Now, don't get yourself all excited; I'll think
of something." Silence. "Ah! I've got it! Let's see if this works."
He leaned forward and touched his lips to the butterfly's tiny
antennae. Nothing happened. "Damn!", Starsky swore.
Starsky smiled, wickedly. "Yeah! So am I, and it ain't for food,
beautiful man, uh, butterfly; but I ain't into animals."
//"Will you get on with it!//
"Patience, babe. As a certain Wicked Witch of the West once said
'These things must be done..delicately'. Okay? Now, let's see..."
For the next hour, Starsky went through every reasonable spell he
had heard or read of. Nothing worked. During this time, Butterfly
Hutch sat, in semi-comfort, on Starsky's nose.
//Ya know it's all your fault, Starsk!// Butterfly Hutch bemoaned. //I
should have never let you talk me into going to see that movie!//
"That's it!" Starsky's shout, and the sudden movement, dislodged
the butterfly. It fluttered backward a few inches, not knowing what
the expect. "That's it!" Starsky repeated, now every excited.
"Hutch, listen to me...carefully. I want you to flutter out about a
foot or two from me." The butterfly obeyed. "Good. Now, this is
extremely important - touch your wings together, three times; after
each time, repeat 'I do believe in Faerie'." A groan filled the air.
"Cool it, Hutch!" Gentle but firm. "If you don't do it by sundown,
you'll never change."
//You mean...??//
"Yes, I mean... Now, move it!"
Carefully, the butterfly obeyed the remaining instructions and, at
the last utterance of the necessary phrase, the transformation began.
Within seconds, Kenneth Hutchinson was human once more.
"Did it work, Starsk?"
For an answer, Starsky closed the mere twelve inches that separated
them, and embraced the beloved body. "Why don't you open your
eyes and see?"
Slowly the long, luscious lashes rose to reveal blood-shot blue ones -
blood shot, that is, until they beheld the face before them. "Yes!!!"
The joyous cry swept over the meadow. "Thanks, Starsk!"
Starsky leered, sexily. "Give credit where credit is due, babe; now,
if we can just get rid of that caterpillar over your lip..."