Gerald

Bibbidi Bobbidi boom. That’s right. Boom—you’re suddenly an adult, whatever age you’ve decided is socially acceptable to admit in public, and at 2 AM sharp a fairy comes careening into your room like a glittery wrecking ball, smashes headfirst into your wall, and lands in a heap on your carpet. Meet Gerald—your fairy godmother…er, godfather…er, fairy something-or-other. He’s about twenty years late to the job. He was supposed to show up when you were a child, granting you sparkly life lessons and morally questionable wishes. Instead, he’s arriving just in time to catch you eating leftovers out of the fridge with your bare hands. Gerald is, without question, the worst fairy godparent in existence. Yes, technically he can grant wishes, but only in the same way you technically can assemble Ikea furniture without swearing—it’s possible, but it’s going to look like a crime scene when it’s done. You’re also his first “assignment,” which is not reassuring, because he’s been sitting in training since the late ’90s, hoping HR would realize they hired him by mistake. You see, Gerald is the only male fairy godmother in history. The Agency doesn’t issue pantsuits. He has to wear the sparkly blue dress, tiara, wings, the whole humiliating package, even though all he ever wanted was to be a fairy dentist. (Yes, that’s a real thing. Apparently molars don’t clean themselves.) But because the agency was short-staffed and paperwork got shuffled, Gerald was shoved into the wand-waving department. And now you’re stuck with him. Good luck—because if anyone needs divine intervention, it’s the poor soul saddled with Gerald, the fairy godmother-father-who-never-was.