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“Hey Bono, take a look at this.” The Edge pointed to his laptop screen.
There was no response. “Hey Bono! Bono?” He swiveled around only to find his buddy knocked out cold and snoring happily on the nearby jade sofa. Slightly annoyed, Edge got up from his comfy swivel chair and swung a pillow at the sleeping singer’s head. A very groggy Bono angrily asked, “What the hell was that for?” “Look at this,” Edge motioned to his computer screen. “You woke me up to look at a website?” He rolled back over grumbling, “G’night.” “No, look. It’s really funny. There are some fans out there who say you’re a…” “Edge, right now I really don’t care if some critic says I’m an ass or if some silly girl says I’m sexy.” There was a slight pause. “Did they say I’m one sexy mofo?” Edge shook his head. His face was contorted with the effort to keep a straight face. “No…they called you a…a…a…” The guitarist could not hold back his laughter anymore. Even looking at Bono seemed hilarious to him. He could just picture those wings… Finally regaining enough composure to speak properly, Edge said, “Bono, they think you’re a fairy.” Bono’s eyes got huge. “A fairy?” he squeaked. This resulted in Edge erupting into laughter all over again. “Hey, you even sound like one, ‘Bono Fairy!’” The singer’s face turned bright red. For perhaps the first time in his life, he was utterly speechless. Hearing all the commotion, Larry had wandered into the room to see what was going on. Adam had left earlier for one of the local pubs. “What’s going on in here?” asked the pretty drummer. “Oh, nothing, just that Bono’s a fairy!” Edge could barely stand up he was laughing so hard. “It’s not funny…” muttered Bono. It was too late however; for now Larry too was laughing so hard he had tears streaming down his face. “Where’s the stupid-ass website?” he growled. He shoved a hysterical Edge aside and sat down to read. He kept running his hands through his longish jet-black hair. Amazingly, a little smile crept onto his face. It was almost a MacPhisto pose, but without the gold suit and stunning shoes. “I can fly,” he said devilishly. Just then Adam strode in. “You can fly? Did I miss something here or what?” Edge was now way beyond speaking coherently, so he simply pointed to the computer screen. “Wow Bono, you’re a good ol’ Irish fairy, eh lad?” Adam joked. The singer was deep in thought for a moment. “Do they call you guys fairies too?” “It doesn’t look like it to me,” Larry offered. “Well, why me? Do I need taller platform shoes? Yes! That must be what it is! The shoes! For our next concert…” “Bono, you already have three inch heels,” the quiet drummer reminded him. “…I could have four, no, five inch heels…yes, that should do it…” Meanwhile Adam had taken over the computer and was wandering around the different links of that particular site. “Hey, it says here there’s some sort of study being done by a university professor…he thinks our music is influenced by fairies.” “As opposed to me being one?” “Yeah, I guess.” “So I’m not a fairy?” “Gosh Bono, you must be still half-asleep. You’re not one to be influenced by false stuff like that normally,” Adam said. Edge added, “But can we dress him up like a fairy for our next tour?” Larry, always trying his best to keep the band’s image in mind, said, “Definitely not. He’d make us all look like silly fools. The MacPhisto thing was bad enough.” “You no love MacPhisto?” crooned the B-Man sadly in his MacPhisto voice. “Can I plead the fifth on that one?” Edge added his two cents, “But those shoes. Man, those were cool. No, they were cooler than cool. Cooler than Santa’s backyard in a blizzard of frozen lemons.” The other three turned round and stared at the guitarist as if he were a giant lemon fallen from the sky. Suddenly suspicious, Bono asked, “Hey, how do I know you’re not behind all of this, Edge?” “Why would I waste my time with a joke that elaborate? It’s so much more fun for me to cruise the great expanse of the world wide web and…” “Oh great gawd, here he goes again…another Edge tangent,” muttered Bono. “…and find that there are true fans, yes I say, who believe…are you listening Bono?” There was a grumble in reply. “Who believe you are none other than a magnificent fairy. Oh, what a dainty little man fairy you are!” chortled Edge. “Guess what?” Bono said to his usually best buddy. “What? You feel like taking a fairy flight?” “I’m feeling numb.” With that, an irate Bono stomped out from the room and slammed the door. “Hey, that was my song,” said Edge. He turned back to his blazing computer screen to copy and save pictures of “Bono Fairy.”
Scene 2 (At Mr. Bono’s House)Bono ate his big bowl of Lucky Charms deep in thought. He suddenly realized he had eaten the last of the colorful little marshmallows, one of those green four-leaf-clover hats, and he was more annoyed than usual at this. “Lame cereal,” he scoffed. “Are you feeling okay, baby?” asked his wife Ali, concerned. “Yeah, fine. Just fine and dandy.” “Well, I know you better than most people, and there is definitely something upsetting you. But I’ll leave you alone. Just try and not let the kids see you like this, okay?” “Yes, Ali.” He smiled faintly and reached up to give her a tender kiss. After she left the kitchen, he turned back to his now slightly mushy Lucky Charms. With horror, his eyes not wanting to believe, he blinked three times very quickly. Surely it was just his imagination that there was a lemon-shaped marshmallow swimming along happily with soggy frosted oats. “But…there aren’t supposed to be lemons in Lucky Charms!” sputtered Bono. Jordan, his eldest daughter, had walked in unseen by her father who was overly absorbed at the moment in his breakfast. “Were you talking to your cereal bowl, daddy?” “Me? No. Why’d you think that?” “Because I heard you.” “Oh…that. Um…I’m just practicing a line I might want to use during the upcoming third leg of the Elevation tour. To add a little humor, you see.” The girl gave her father a funny look. “Daddy, you weren’t funny though.” “I wasn’t?” The singer looked crestfallen. “Nope, you weren’t. But I still love you.” She rose from her seat at the table to give her daddy a quick peck on the cheek before running upstairs. Bono was left alone at the table thinking, “Gosh darn it. What is up with this stupid fairy business anyhow? I’m starting to feel like I’m stuck in a moment I can’t get out of. I have to get to the bottom of this. Yes, I shall find out who is behind this ‘Fairy!’”
Scene 3 (Still At Bono’s House…But In His Bedroom ;) )“Please, I’ll do anything,” he added. “Even trade in your brilliant blues?” said the mysterious high voice. “What? But then my song to Ali wouldn’t be accurate…it can’t be brown-eyed boy meets a brown-eyed girl. It has to be blue. Blue.” “Are you finished?” There was a nod. “What if I were to tell you that I’ll give you more adoring female fans and make critics hear nothing but your distinctive voice? The mass mobs will cry your name in the name of love. MTV will air U2 videos all day non-stop and no one will mind this because they will know there is no band better than yours. If you give me all your satin or shiny suits, especially those gold ones, all of this can be yours.” “Especially the gold ones? Oh All-Mighty Fairy, anything but that!” “Yes! Yes! Goodbye gold pants! Au revoir gold suits! May you rest in peace gold boots!” frenzily chanted the mysterious high voice. “Nooooo!” sobbed the singer pathetically. “Bono! Bono! Wake up!” It was Ali. He blinked for a few seconds, his eyes adjusting to the face of the one he loved. “Eugh…” he choked. “You had a nightmare. Look, you’ve got tears crisscrossing more times over your face then there are streets in Dublin. Oo…and you are sweaty too. Go take a quick shower.” “But it’s four in the morning!” he protested. “Yes baby, but you smell.” The 41-year-old singer dragged himself out of bed. His jet-black hair was more tousled then usual. His right hand fumbled for the knob. Soon a refreshingly cold stream of water was upon him. He sighed. Bono stepped out of the shower, wrapping a white terry cloth towel around his waist. Wait, what was that he heard? It sounded like a sort of flutter, or the hum sound a hummingbird makes in flight. Except there could be no possible way a hummingbird got in his bathroom, unless Edge had one sent to Dublin as another joke. “Hey!” Whatever it was seemed to be diving for his head. There it was! A flash of white! A glimmer of blue! Bono had to duck, for whatever it was, it was a very fast relentless little devil of a thing. A cloud of something shiny seemed to envelope the bathroom, but only for a second. It was all over before he could quite comprehend what had just happened. He slipped back under the bed covers without saying a word to Ali about what had just happened in the bathroom. She would probably have thought that he had gone for some drinks and was dreaming it all up. So he vowed to himself to tell no one.
Scene 4 (In Windmill Lane Studios, Dublin)Edge took off his guitar and rested it against a stool. “I agree. Bono, your high register actually rang out nice and high for a change. Been laying off the cigarettes and wine, eh?” He poked his buddy jokingly. “Um yeah, something like that.” Adam suggested in his posh drawl that they end early, as he had some errands to run. More likely, the real reason was that he had run out of the Silk Cuts, which he chain-smoked with fervor. The close foursome entered the streets and in a few minutes were all headed in different directions. The sky overhead was darkened by cloud, which was normal for Dublin. Bono decided to simply wander around a bit, and go down all the old streets of his childhood. He passed the former homes of his old friends. He passed O’Connell Street and Bonavox Hearing Aid Shop, where had derived his nickname so many years ago. He kept on walking, deep in reflection. “It was because of me,” a peculiar voice whispered in his right ear. Bono whipped around but there was no one behind him. “It was because of me,” the soft voice repeated. The startled singer once again swung around to look over his shoulder, but the sidewalk was empty. The voice sounded so eerily similar to his own voice. “It was because of me.” “Stop it!” “It was because of me.” “Leave me alone!” Bono clasped both hands over his ears and had begun to run down the street, his afghan coat flapping in the breeze. A few people driving by gave him puzzled looks, but figured it was just another one of the singer’s antics. Some sort of political statement, they mused, as Bono kept running for his life. Too exhausted to run any farther, he crumpled in a heap on the pavement. Someone passing by recognized him and offered him a hand. The unnerved singer simply mumbled, “Leave me alone. Please.” As soon as the man walked on, Bono could feel that presence that moved in mysterious ways. Sure enough, a high, melodic voice whispered, “It was because of me.” “No…” he croaked, tears streaming from his brilliantly piercing baby blues. He gulped. “Who are you anyway? What are you?” “I am Bono Fairy.” Bono passed out on the dirty sidewalk, hitting his head with a loud “clunk.” His trademark dark sunglasses hung crookedly on his face.
Scene 5 (The Fairy And His Powers)“Excuse me?” the singer said, mustering all his courage and strength. “I am a Fairy. As you must know, fairies have a rare gift for beautiful music. I have thus granted you a beautiful voice with the power to change people’s lives for the better. In so doing, I have also come across two other fellows much like myself who tend to help two people you have known quite well for a long time.” “Why do you speak like me?” asked Bono, flabbergasted that he was involved in a discourse with a fairy. “I do not speak similar to you any more than you speak like me,” was the reply. “Huh. Uh, okay…well, who are the other two fairies?” “Edge Fairy, who is as powerful as myself, and Larry Fairy. I have not yet come across Adam Fairy; though fairy folklore has it he spends his time in pubs all around the world.” Bono thought about all this for a moment. Something still puzzled him. “You said that you and Edge Fairy are equally powerful. What are your powers specifically? And why do you ‘help’ us as you say…?” “Edge Fairy is the most talented of all the fairies in the art of playing guitar, and music in general. Not to brag, but I am known as having the most power over the emotional voice, as has been expressed in you both in singing and in your writings, whether U2-related or your personal causes.” The Fairy had risen about two inches from the ground as he related all of this to Bono, and now hovered quite near the Irishman’s large nose. He continued, “As to why we bother to ‘help’ you as you called it, I am not free to say exactly. It has something to do with our own desires for fame and exposure, which as fairies could never happen. So we have to work through people, like yourself.” “Ah, I see. But why me? Why any of us?” “You and the other three all have a certain kind of ambition that few artists have. You were just four silly schoolboys when you started. If it wasn’t for me, however, you would never quite have mastered being able to sing in tune.” Bono grimaced as painful memories of him as a sixteen-year-old wannabe-singer came back to him. “Ouch.” Sensing some of the singer’s other questions, the fairy continued, “Do not worry. It is your true voice you sing with, not mine. Your lyrics too are your own. They are simply brought up a level higher to see to more of their potential. My voice sounds like yours because in a way we are both connected now.” “Wait, so I am a fairy?” asked Bono. He was still utterly confused and was starting to feel his temper creeping on. “Yes and no. You are not a fairy, but you have a few fairy-like qualities now. Your falsetto is helped by this, as is your stamina on stage. There were a few, um, drawbacks for you however. I hate to say this to you so early on, but your height was stunted because of me. Sorry for that…” the fairy finished uncertainly. “You stunted my growth! You made me short! Demme you fairy! Every night when I go on stage I have to wear these huge platform shoes,” he pointed to the boots he was wearing, “to try and appear less small. If I didn’t, and if I didn’t jump and run around and wave flags and ride in lemons and dress as an ageing devilish rock star and…” The Fairy cut him off with a sprinkle of fairy dust that came seemingly out of nowhere. Bono recognized it as the same stuff showered on him the night before. “And if I had not helped you out, and the other fairies for your friends, U2 would not have the faithful numbers it does.” “I’m thirsty,” said Bono. If he could only go home, oh, how he would love to see Ali’s comforting face. Magically, a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade was in his hand, complete with a lemon on the edge. It was all too much for exhausted Bono. The poor guy passed out for the second time.
Scene 6 (Bono’s House, Dublin)Not wanting to disturb Ali in their bedroom, he went down to the kitchen to find a quick bite to eat. It crossed his mind, almost humorously, how amazingly hungry a person can be after an adventure of some sort. His hand grabbed for the box of Lucky Charms, but then he remembered what happened last time he ate them, so he settled for some coffee and a Pop Tart. Sitting down at the table, he looked out the window at the shadows and tall trees. He shivered. He had the bad feeling that he would be seeing this “Bono Fairy” in a little while. “Things are really starting to get out of control,” he murmured. Oh no! What was that “whiz” sound? It came from overhead, and seemed to be accelerating. Plop! Something dropped into his gray coffee cup. Immediately after that, the Fairy landed beside his plate, a mischievous grin on his little fairy face. “What did you drop into my cup?” snarled Bono. His temper was certainly getting the workout this week. “Oh, only a little splash of lemon,” the Fairy replied sweetly. “Lemon? Lemon! Curse lemons! I don’t want LEMON in my coffee!” “Oh, but I thought you liked lemons?” “That was in the 90’s!” shrieked Bono, hitting the table so violently his lemon-tainted coffee spilled over the brim. There were footsteps in the hall. “Baby, what’s the matter? Why are you yelling?” Ali walked over and draped her arms over his shoulders. The Fairy was no longer in sight. “Nothing, Ali darling. I have to go out for a while though.” Trying hard to be understanding, but worried about her husband, she said, “I know some days are better than others, but baby, you just haven’t been yourself this week.” “Ali, I feel like a kite blowing out of control on a breeze.” He paused. “I have to go now.” “When will you be back?” The door closed without an answer. Ali sunk into the chair that her husband had just left, and sat staring at the uneaten Pop Tart and spilled coffee.
Scene 7 (Edge’s House)“Well, someone’s quite the scruffy wanderer tonight. Now what the hell are you doing on my doorstep at two fuckin’ thirty in the morning? Please enlighten me.” Bono gave his best pal a Look. “Edge, I’m really not up to any kidding around right now, okay? Anyhow, can I come inside please? I’m feeling numb out here in the cold.” Edge obligingly moved aside. Bono, after a long dramatic pause continued, “Oh, and my wife is probably pissed at me right now too because I just sorta left the house…” “Well, why the hell did you go and do that for?” Bono ran his fingers through his longish black hair. How he was going to explain this one without sounding completely loony, he wanted to know. “Uh, well where do I start? You’re going to think I’m totally nuts when I tell you…oh Edge, I…I…” Edge walked over and gave his buddy a hug as the singer broke down in tears. “What’s wrong, Bono?” he asked softly. Bono gulped and swallowed. He tried to stop crying but now that he had started it was difficult to stop. Choking a bit, he tried after a few minutes to continue. “Edge, I don’t know how to tell you this. Please promise you’ll take me seriously…the whole thing is ruining my life.” “Oh God, Bono, it’s not the kids or Ali is it? What happened?” Bono shook his head no. “I…I’ve been visited by a fairy this week. It’s the honest truth. I know it sounds crazy…” Edge’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. “You’re sure you weren’t accidentally brainwashed by us the other day? Or hit your head too hard somewhere along the way here?” “See, I knew you’d think I was a stupid ass. I shouldn’t have come. Goodnight.” He turned to leave but Edge put a hand out to stop him. “Tell me the story,” he said simply.
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