A doctor, a teacher and a ceramicist walked into bar.
Upon ordering their drinks, they encountered a smol pixie who went by the name of Jack. The pixie was alone and visibly upset.
‘What’s wrong?’ they all asked her.
‘I’m lazy, need my lifestyle to be bankrolled and I hide the truth, but I also really want to be looked after!’ sobbed the smol pixie.
‘I can try to cure you, but I’m just a student doctor, therefore I have no money, I work long shifts and will have no time to pay you any attention,’ said the doctor.
‘Fuck off,’ said the smol pixie.
The teacher stepped up. ‘I can help you to spell and punctuate correctly, but I live on a modest salary and will also care more deeply about my job and the cuts in government funding for my pupils than I will about your driveway vegetable troughs.’
‘Jog on, pal,’ said the smol pixie.
Then, it was the ceramicist’s turn to cheer up Jack. ‘I know how to make any item of crockery your greedy heart desires. I’m also the child of wealthy parents who fund my bohemian creative lifestyle and stand to inherit a fortune when they die,’ said the ceramicist.
‘Whoo-eee! It’s your lucky day. I’m going to be your wee pocket rocket!’ cried the pixie. She took the ceramicist’s number with which to exchange 2,000 messages and skipped home to play the spoons.
Unfortunately, he ghosted her.