Flitterwig (edit title/settings)

Had the Troggle at the corner been watching, instead of trying to flick bubblegum off the end of his middle finger, he would have seen the pixie. It scrambled up from the gutter, scuttled along the ice-cold railings near the front door, and launched itself onto the windowsill of Number 26, Chester Row, Chelsea, London.Only yesterday the Troggle had been a pixie himself. Now, because of all the sugar he’d eaten, he had Trogglified into a greasy-haired, moulding slime-ball of a creature, smelling of rotten turnips and rat poo. He cursed under his breath, and hopped about on one foot. Having successfully flicked the bugglegum off his finger, it seemed he had stepped on it, and was now having trouble unstacking it from the bottom of what looked like a hobnailed boot. Abandoning the Magical Kingdom of Magus to join forces with the Grand Duke did not come without its drawbacks.