Well, there was no denying it. It had been yet another epically terrible day at the office. It wasn't just the fact that Arthur found inputting hundreds of pages of jargon about tax codes dreadfully dull, and make no mistake, that was objectively one of the most mind-numbingly boring tasks a person could possibly do. No, on top of that his boss Mr. Crankshaft was a sadistic psychopath who enjoyed piling on extra work almost as much as humiliating Arthur in front of the entire office. And he really, really enjoyed doing that.

Today Mr. Crankshaft had found a typo on page 947 of the document Arthur had submitted last Tuesday. As punishment he forced Arthur to climb up on the Table of Shame, which was conveniently located in the dead center of the office space. Once up there he had to say "I've been a bad widdle boy" in a falsetto voice five hundred times before he was allowed to get down.

In the meantime Mr. Crankshaft passed out bushels of rotten fruit to his coworkers so they could thoroughly pelt Arthur as he performed his degrading task. As an added incentive, Mr. Crankshaft offered hundred dollar bills to anyone who could knock Arthur off the table, at which point he would be forced to get back on it and start all over again from scratch. He got knocked off three times, the last time when he was on his 498th repetition of the embarrassing phrase.

As if that hadn't been bad enough, Arthur had done a pretty good job of humiliating himself all on his own that day, too. It started first thing in the morning when he spilled hot coffee all over his lap, scalding the heck out of him, and leaving a large wet stain in his crotch area that took over an hour to dry. Then, a little later, he had been walking by the cute intern's desk when he accidentally dropped his favorite pen on the ground. He bent over to pick it up and heard a loud tearing sound. He reached back to discover the entire seat of his pants had ripped open, revealing his underwear to the world.

Of all days to wear the pair with the unicorns on it. He normally favored plain underwear, but this one had been a gift from his Nana and she was always asking him every time they spoke on the phone if he had enjoyed the adorable undies she'd picked out for him. It had been sitting unworn in his drawer for weeks now, but finally the guilt had gotten to him this morning and he'd slid it on before he could think twice about it. He was regretting that decision mightily as the intern broke out into loud uncontrolled bursts of laughter at his expense.

Then right when five o'clock was about to roll around and he would be mercifully released, Mr. Crankshaft stopped by his desk and informed him he would be required to stay after hours on his own time to make up for the company time he'd stolen earlier by making a spectacle of himself on the Table of Shame. His boss then slammed a thick stack of papers down on his desk, and said he'd have to get through all of them before he could leave.

It was nearly midnight by the time Arthur finally made it home. He tried to stifle a yawn as he brushed his teeth and changed into his pajamas. It was only Monday. He was going to have to do all of this again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. And the day after that. And possibly on the weekend, too, depending on Mr. Crankshaft's mood.

Arthur glanced out the window as he stumbled groggily towards bed, and noticed an especially bright star shining outside.

"Hello there, little star," he said as he leaned against the windowsill and gazed up at it. "Well, I suppose you're probably not so little. I hear stars are enormous. But from here, you look tiny and cute. I wonder if you have planets orbiting you? And if so, I wonder if they're any better than this one?"

He let out a long sigh.

"I suppose I'll never know. It's hard to imagine they could be much worse. This world's a garbage pile. I don't understand why things have to be this way. Why aren't they more like the stories Nana used to read me when I was young? I'd love it if there was magic, and talking animals, and beautiful princesses needing to be rescued. I wish fairy tales were real."

He silently watched the star twinkling away for another moment before he let out another sigh and turned around to climb into bed. He almost keeled over in fright when he bumped into somebody who was standing right behind him.

"Hello," a high lilting voice said. It belonged to a tall, elegant woman dressed in a sparkling blue dress. She had long flowing blonde hair and wore a jeweled tiara on her head. Her hands were covered in long satin gloves that reached nearly to her elbows and she waved a yellow star-tipped wand around in her right hand. It was also difficult not to notice the prominent butterfly wings sprouting from her back.

"Who are you?" Arthur clutched at his chest. "How did you get in here? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"I'm the Blue Fairy," the woman said. "And you just wished on my star."

"Oh great, now I'm going looney on top of everything else," Arthur muttered.

"Do you know what happens when you wish on my star?" the Blue Fairy asked.

"No," Arthur said. "Should I?"

The Blue Fairy let out a laugh that sounded slightly unhinged to Arthur. "Well, hang on to your pants, Mister. Because you're about to find out."