There was - and is - a dandelion fairy. It looks just like a dandelion flower on a long green stalk. It doesn't have much brain. Its only skill is that it can translocate itself at will. It likes to be with other dandelions and it wanders the earth in search of company.
One day the dandelion fairy showed up in Adelaide on the small and perfect lawn of Mr. Bosker. Mr. Bosker's lawn was a Mecca for dandelions. There was something about it that attracted them. Mr. Bosker worked assiduously to eradicate the pesky weeds and most of the time he kept them under control. But the dandelion fairy nearly drove him mad. He'd be in the living room enjoying a beer after work and he would look out the window and see a burgeoning yellow blossom nodding happily in the evening breeze. Mr. Bosker would spring up and race out the back door, weed spray in hand, only to find that there was no dandelion. He would get down on his knees in his good work trousers and hunt for the insidious rosettes hugging the ground.
``Why don't you just leave them?'' his wife said, ``you can eat the leaves you know - as greens or in salad - but I'd want them to be organic.''
Mr. Bosker snorted at the very idea.
``They're really quite pretty,'' Mrs Bosker said, ``and you can use the flowers to make wine...''
Mr. Bosker stormed outside to smoke a pipe and calm his nerves. He decided to sleep on the lawn all night so he could watch for the elusive dandelion on its own territory. Once he was all cozy in his sleeping bag he thought it was almost fun to be out under the stars in his own back yard. He quickly fell asleep. He awoke with the first light to feel something tickling his nose. Thinking it was a bug he swiped at it without opening his eyes. It did not leave. He opened his eyes to see a splendid dandelion flower beaming down on him. He knew then it was no ordinary weed. True dandelions do not open wide and bright until the sun has shone on them. He snatched at the flower head with a terrible curse. Mr. Bosker had proven his bravery in Korea, he was not a man to quail before a mere weed, no matter how atypical. But the flower disappeared between his fingers. The dandelion fairy had translocated to Grenoble, and Mr. Bosker had suffered a stroke.
They did revive him but he was never quite the same.
The dandelion fairy knew nothing of this and wouldn't have cared anyway.