Due to an administrative error, Sandra ‘Sandy’ Chen ended up with a rather unconventional guardian spirit.
Everybody had one: elves in Germany completing chores obediently, red-cheeked children in Japan bringing good fortune, unnamed ones blessing households in Ancient Maya. In the modern age, pieces of fiction had a horrid habit of twisting the guardian spirits into ridiculous ideas of a patronus or familiar. Others, growing up on animated Cinderella or other such ludicrous tales, were given a fairy godmother to guide and protect them through their life. Such was meant to be the case with Sandy Chen.
The Administrator had plucked Sandy’s file from the fairy godmother pile, filling in the small line of type with the typical script of ‘fairy godmother’ before sending the file off to be coupled with her birth later that afternoon.
However, the issue arose from the fact that the Administrator had been ever-so-slightly distracted that day. A mob film had been playing the night before for the afterlife’s movie night and the Administrator had unabashedly been sucked into the twists and turns of The Family. With that in mind, the slip of a pen wasn’t usually so resonant as the intent of the writing held more power than the words themselves. However, the Administrator’s mind had been wandering miles away from the average life planned for Sandy Chen; the words that ended up written on Sandy’s file held enough power to change her fate.
Guardian: Fairy Godfather
Her mother suspected nothing at her birth: a slimy, vaguely-purple baby born just the same as her other five children. Her first few years passed unassumingly, her guardian never needing to make an appearance; her mother spoiled and doted on her. Her father was absent but moreso for their sake than his; prison was a funny thing that way. Her family was odd that way: despite the obvious hardships, none of them seemed to want change, all perfectly content with mediocrity and settling, smiling placidly whenever Sandy inquired about their future goals. Sandy was having none of it.
Her plan started when she entered kindergarten.
Within a few hours of the first day, she had successfully instated herself at the top of the food chain: ruling the hierarchy of five-year-olds with an iron fist. Within a week, she had gotten herself situated comfortably with the guidance of her fairy: best spot for naptime, first dibs on snacks at recess, free choice of easels at art. She had it good. Within the first year of her schooling, she had learned a valuable lesson from her fairy and her fare: you had to make them an offer they couldn’t refuse if you wanted them on your side.
Through her years in elementary and secondary school, she honed her art of manipulation. She traded front-row classroom seats for homework answers; homework answers were slipped to athletes in return for photocopied awards and participation documents; awards were handed off to slackers and bullies in return for favours; favours were used to acquire front-row seats. She had her classmates unknowingly becoming her fine-tuned money machine, her fairy godfather watching it all unfold from over her shoulder, proud and patient.
She graduated top of her class and was voted most likely to become prime minister unanimously. She skipped university, going straight for a job at the busiest restaurant in the city as a sous chef.
It was there she met her husband: a kind but stern man whose father owned the restaurant and who frequently slunk around the kitchen trying to find a way to talk to her. Sensing trouble and wanting it closer, she introduced herself to him and asked which type of business this restaurant was a front for. Taken aback by her boldness and the steel of her eyes, he stuttered out his answer and was rewarded with the slow-spreading smile of a predator. There was blood in the water.
The two of them were married within the year, the wedding a grand occasion of crushed velvet and tasteful table decor and the location of the first meeting between Sandy and her father-in-law.