The man turned in surprise at the gang of teenagers, and drew back his lips to reveal sharp eel teeth.
“Yo man, you sell drugs or what?” they said.
“I’m actually the adulthood fairy,” he said. “I go around granting adulthood to the children of the world.” His moth-eaten leathery wings extended and trembled in the wind ripping through the alley.
“I also sell drugs.”
“So, are you all ready to become adults?”
“I mean, we were just after some molly, but, yeah, what the fuck.”
“I have to warn you, there are pros and cons to being an adult.”
“Like, you’ve got to work a job, and some of you get hemorrhoids. And you, you lose two fingers at a Guatemalan zoo.”
“And that’s not even the worst part of the trip.”
“Damn. I don’t want to be an adult then.”
“But, also… no homework.”
“And you get to have sex.”
“Most of you at least. Not you. Or you. And you will have sex, but it’s with an elderly and semi-lucid Casey Affleck.”
“Not sure how to feel about that.”
“No one is. Much of adulthood is learning how to feel about that.”
“Yeah, you know when you were a little kid, and you were super excited for Christmas, and you couldn’t wait for it to come? Well, when you’re an adult, all that anxiety and expectation gets moved to Election Day. And, while on Christmas, there’re always presents waiting under the tree, and family and eggnog and cookies and all that shit, and lo, what wondrous joy—on Election Day, half the time, the results will be so completely horrible that they will fill your soul with terror for the fate of the human race, and challenge your faith in the universe and your fellow man, and you will find yourself poisoning your brain with whatever chemical you can find in liquid form to somehow scrub the afterimage of that Lovecraftian horror called the American democratic process from the halls of your memory. And the other half of the time the results will be slightly less bad.”
“Whoa." The teens exchanged quizzical looks. Then one, eyebrows furrowed, spoke up. "Like how often do I get to have sex?”