Whose Trope Is It Anyway?

Marcus hated her, from her pigtails to her ukulele. “I wrote you a song,” she giggled, and strummed a few wonky chords. He turned away, cringing.

He’d specifically requested a Fairy Godmother, NOT a Manic Pixie Dream Girl. For one thing, he hated quirky, obsessive women with mismatched socks. But more importantly, he needed the blood of a true fairy to complete the spell to catch the demon who took his husband.

Time was ticking. The ditzy pixie in his room would have to do.

She finished playing, grinning. “How’s that?”

Marcus drew his knife. “Sorry, Quirky…this is gonna hurt.”