Sleeping Beauty, though not so much a beauty was poisoned to sleep forever. Surounded by the mighty seven midgets, Snorable, Duncey, Bashedabout,Hapless, Sneezer, Grumpedout and Dockworker, she lies in a serene setting as the seven mourn for her. Suddenly, a Prince gallops up to save the woman he was told would make his head spin. Walking over to her, he starts to bend over for a better look when he jumped back, turned, jumped onto his horse and road away as if the hounds of hellwer at his feet. Hapless said, “That’s the fifth prince this week that’s run away from her. Maybe it’s time we invested in a plastic surgeon.”

Another hero comes to rescue Rapunzel from the castle she is held prisoner in. “Rapunzel, let down thy hair so that I may climb up to you and resuce thee from this dark place.” Rapunzel sighs a sigh she knows all too well and drops her long pigtails out the open window, and just like the last ten times, when they reached him, they cracked open his skull and he died. Like the others, he was taken away and buried in a place she knew not where.

“Sorry,” said Beauty, but I don’t like kissing someone with all that hair all over your face.” “I was afraid you would say that,” said The Beast. “A pity, for I would rather have loved you than have to eat you.” Beauty screamed and screamed as The Beast chewed away at her flesh until she was no more.

The End

I.

It all happened in a place called~ Rin-

Where many children there played for

Many hours right by Lake Zambin—

II.

Snakes!

The whole place had a serpent problem

All folks were ready to get rid of them

The moment they spotted one snake-

It would be killed with a garden tool Or with any weapon like a pistol, too.

III.

The folks in the town all gathered

In the local pub one day to discuss What was needed to be done!

Some claimed that the Chief didn’t care

He didn’t have any kids, so, why would He worry about the other children Getting bitten by the snakes.

IV.

The doors of the pub were moved & Folks turned to see who had tried to Disturb their serious meetin’ time

The stranger bowed his head and Smiled.

He had the perfect solution for their problem.

V.

Later in the dead of night

The stranger grinned and played his Pipe.

As soon as the snakes heard the music, They slithered toward it and followed The sweet sound of the music!

VI.

Bright and early into the new morning The folks were pleased to hear no HISS They leaped into the air- quite glad That all the snakes were gone for good!

VII.

The Piper bowed his head and said, ‘‘Now will you pay me for saving your Children and everyone else as well.’’

All the folks became silent, as if their Voices had been snatched from their Throats.

None of them tried to even hand the Piper a silver coin.

VIII.

The Piper shook his head and sighed. ‘‘All right, none of you want to pay me For assissting you with your problem. Guess, I’ll just have to take matters Into my own hands...’’

IX.

The Piper reached into his satchel and Pulled our his musical instrument.

He played a soft gentle tune that Sounded like waves crashing on the Beach.

X.

The ground started to shake and quake The folks screamed and tried to run. But then they remembered— where Were all their children?

XI.

The children were still paying by the Lake.

The Piper blew into his pipe and the waters of the lake started to rise.

The children cried out and some complained that the lake was too hot.

The more that they tried to swim back to dry land, the stronger the current of the lake became.

XII.

One young lad who had never been to The lake because he worked at the pub- Ended up charging toward the Piper to Try to pull his pipe away from his lips.

XIII.

The Piper snapped his fingers and Vanished.

The young lad blinked and rubbed his eyes.

What kind of sorcery was at play here?

XIV.

The folks rushed to the lake to check On the children who had been playing In the lake.

They fell down on their knees and some used their fists to hit the ground. The only thing that remained were Bones of the children that were just Floating in the lake.

XV.

So, Folks, let you and I be more clever Of watching out in all our business with or without a paper and pen—or pipers!

And, if they say they will work for free, To help get rid of serpents or snakes, Whatever amount we promise to hand over, let’s make sure to keep that promise.

5/4/2021.

#ThePiedPiperofRin. ©

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=mz8cX-Ai0lE

This is the story of Little Red Riding Hood. She was the daughter of the Woodcutter and his wife. A precocious child, fiercely independent, her parents often worried about her long trek through the woods, alone, refusing a companion or weapon. "Surely, I am safe," she insisted to them, "I have no need for violence or chasing off bandits. We live in such a safe neighborhood, and the people in our village have known me from birth. I am safe!" Her mother would shake her head, and her father would insist, "The woods are apart from our home. Our village may be safe, but the wider world holds many dangers. If you won't heed our caution, then at least wear this, so that we may see you as walk along the path." From his bag he produced a bright red cape as vibrant as blood and brighter than the setting sun. "Father!" she exclaimed, "It is a beautiful accessory! While i know I am safe, I think I will still wear such a beautiful garment."

And so she fastened the cape about her shoulders and twirled for her parents to see, "You, see, Mama and Papa! Now I'm definitely the safest I will ever be!" Grabbing up her basket of cakes and bread, she kissed them both goodbye and headed down the path to Granny's cottage in the woods. She waved to her neighbors, shouted hello to her friends, and all the world seemed to be her oyster. Whistling to herself, her gait was confident and sure as she trekked down the slowly darkening path as the tightly knit trees began to block out the sun.

The canopy overhead rustled ominously, a cold breeze lifting the edges of Little Red Riding Hood's cloak. Shivering, she clasped it closer to her body, "Oh my! There must be a storm on the horizon. Thank goodness for the cloak, else my bones would be chilled." She continued her happy tune, whistling away, not noticing the paired whistling of the forest birds had also gone strangely quiet. Only the sounds of her steps and the lilting of her tune penetrated the darkening wood around her. "Oh my!" she exclaimed, "Such a beautiful day for a stroll! So quiet and serene, it's like I wandered into a painting." The path she followed went suddenly steeply downward as it entered the densest part of the woods. Little Red Riding Hood stepped lightly and confidently from tree root to tree root, unafraid of the regularly-travelled path. With the last light of the sun sponged away into dim, dark light, Little Red Riding Hood burst into a silly song, "A light! So bright! The sun hides itself away! Now night! No fright! The darkness won't scare me away!"

Giggling, she reached the bottom of the ravine. The ground turned muddy and mucky, sucking at her shoes. Lifting her cloak to keep the edges from getting dirty, she splashed and sucked along happily, laughing at her shoes and the absolute mess her mother would never approve of. At that time, during her leaping and splashing, she spotted a little off the path a patch of wildflowers. Purples and yellows and pinks all seemed to call out to her. Clapping her hands and hurrying to the patch, she knelt carefully onto the ground, "Oh my!" she exclaimed, "I don't want to be late, but Granny would love a fresh bouquet." She opened her basket of cakes and bread, then began to pluck and grab up an assortment of the beautifully colored flowers.

"Ahem!" came a voice. Little Red Riding Hood looked around herself. There was no one near her. "Probably the wind," she said to herself dismissively, "No need to be afraid." She continued to pick flowers haphazardly, when the voice came again, "Young lady, I insist you stop." Turning around she spotted him near a tree, hiding from view, "I daresay, who are you to tell me what to do?" Little Red Riding Hood stood to her full height, her hands on her hips, "I am the Woodcutter's daughter, and I walk this path all the time to reach my Granny's house. I can do as I like." A little old man stepped from behind the tree, "Young lady, I meant no offense, but you are pulling up my garden. I had with me a dear wolf, a friendly companion, who protected me as I, too, travelled this path through the woods. What you are pulling up are the flowers I carefully planted to cover his grave."

Little Red Riding Hood threw back her head and laughed, "An old man and a wolf? That would be a sight to see! Well, tosh to your garden, old man. I, alone, have walked this path many times, and I have never seen you about." The old man held his walking stick, digging it into the ground, "There are many things that travel along this path, young lady. Creatures, people, and even the spirits of the wood. It isn't right to try to claim it as your own." She threw her head back and laughed again at the man, "Wolfman! That is what I'll call you! I will go back to my father and tell him of your audacity and lies. But first, I must take these treats to my Granny. She must be so worried about me by now." 

The little old man hobbled forward, "Young Lady, your attitude is most foul. I will follow you to your Granny's, and I will have a word to her about your behavior." Little Red Riding Hood saw the little old man reaching for her arm, so she swung with her basket, knocking him to the ground. "Oof!" he howled in pain, "You devil of a child! Help me up! I think I've broken my leg!" Little Red Riding Hood ran away from the man, leaving her basket and flowers behind. His shouts for help followed her through the gloomy wood. She came to her Granny's tiny cottage, and she pounded on the door, "Granny! Granny! I have been attacked!" There was a scuffle and shuffle from inside the home, when the front door burst open to reveal her aging, poor Granny, "What is it, child?" she asked in a hurry, "Who has attacked you?" "The Wolfman!" Little Red Riding Hood shouted, "The Wolfman came to me in the woods and threatened to hurt me! He had fire in his eyes like he meant to kill me! He stole my basket of bread and flowers, and I barely escaped with my life!" "Come in, dear child," her Granny said in a rush. She ushered the child in and slammed the door shut, locking it tight. 

"It was awful," Little Red Riding Hood said, tears streaming from her eyes, "I've walked that path thousands of times, and I've never had that happen before." Her Granny busied herself, making a hot cup of cocoa and checking her grand-daughter for injuries, "My word, child, you don't have a scratch on you. Didn't you say you were attacked?" "Well," started Little Red Riding Hood, mulling over her words, "The Wolfman reached out and tried to grab me. I swung and hit him with my basket." Granny nodded her head, "Very quick thinking of you, my dear. My word, child, it must have been terrifying to hear him threaten you harm." "Well," said the little girl, shuffling her feet, "He didn't exactly say he would hurt me. But he said he would come after you, too." "Oh, dear!" spluttered Granny, "What a foul and perverse creature! To threaten a child in such a way and to say they would hurt the ones you love."  Granny paced her small kitchen, "We must phone the police. We must phone you father. My word, child, do you remember what he looked like? You said his eyes were terrifying and filled with bloodlust." Little Red Riding Hood fumbled her cup of cocoa, not looking in her Granny's eye, "He was a very angry old man. He told me all types of lies and stories, and when I told him I didn't believe him and shoo away, he leapt at me to grab me." Granny plopped into her armchair, fanning her face, "Oh, my sweet, dear child. What horror you have faced. Such perversion! Such sin! How did you manage to escape such a terrible man?" Little Red Riding Hood mumbled through her lips, barely above a whisper, "i hit him with my basket, and he fell down and broke his leg." At this, Granny leapt up from her armchair and dashed to the phone that was older than she, "I must dial the police! We may catch this pervert, yet!"

The police combed the forest path, following Little Red Riding Hood's begrudged directions. It was barely even dusk when they found the little old man fallen on the ground, trying to claw his way home. At first, he was relieved to be carefully lifted and assisted, but his relief turned into bewilderment as a police officer slapped a pair of handcuffs on him. Twisting in pain and confusion, the little old man demanded an explanation, and he received none. He didn't know his crime until it was told to him the next morning as he awoke in a jail cell. Little Red Riding Hood's father and mother were in existential pain. "I should have been there!" shouted her father, "I would have buried my axe in his head!" "No, I should have been there!" shouted her mother, "I would never let her red cape out of my sight!" And in between them, cradled by her weeping parents, Little Red Riding Hood sat in quiet anguish, wondering why she didn't speak up. Why wasn't she saying something? All well, she thought. Surely, this would teach the little old man a lesson on how to treat people. He was a rotten, angry old man, anyway. 

At his trial, the little old man pleaded with the judge, "I insist, your honor, I have never harmed a fly! The young lady was defiling my garden, and I was shooing her away!" The judge shook his head, "And why did you threaten the child?" The old man blustered, "I told her I would go to her grandmother to tell of her awful behavior." The judge shook his head, "And why did you attempt to attack the child?" The old man looked pleadingly, "I was going to grab her arm, so she couldn't get away." The court gasped and a lady in the back fainted. The little old man searched desperately for an ally, "Please, I meant no harm to the child! Yes, it was wrong to try to grab her arm, but I insist I did it only to escort her to her grandmothers and have her disciplined." The judge shook his head, "And why did you think it was your duty to scold a child who is not your kin?" The little old man beat his fists against his knees, "She was wrecking my dear wolf's burial place! I planted flowers and paid respects! This little devil child was tearing it apart and ruining it!" The court gasped again. The judge banged his gavel for order. Once again, he shook his head, "Could you not have explained yourself better? Could you not have gone to the girl's parents? Could you be more merciful to an innocent child's mistake? Could you not have shown more mercy to someone who barely has enough reason to understand the world around her?" 

"Guilty!" Shouted the crowd! "Arrest him! Life in prison! Execute the baby snatcher!" The mob of people became more and more aggravated. The judge banged his gavel several more times. "Order! There will be order in my court! Now, it's obvious to me that since there was only one witness to the crime, there can only be one person to confirm or deny this man's plea." The judge pointed down from his podium towards Little Red Riding Hood, "You, child. We need your yay or nay. Did this man attack you and try to harm you?" All eyes were on the little girl, a pin drop could have been heard. Little Red Riding Hood felt her brow begin to sweat and her hands became numb. Surely! All this fuss? All this muss? For a few flowers? Yes, the little old man had tried to grab her, but wasn't she acting unladylike? No! It was his fault for being so rude and telling obvious lies. Saying a wolf would attack her and Granny. Or was he going to attack her? Was Granny there? She couldn't remember! So many people looking at her, the details began to muddle together. Just to make it stop! Make the anger and staring eyes look away! Little Red Riding Hood clamped her eyes shut, but all she could see was the angry little old man reaching for her, bloodlust in his eyes, fangs sprouting from his mouth, claws extending from his fingers, and a howl of fury as he leapt 10 feet towards her. "Yes!" she shouted, "That Wolfman attacked me!"

The crowd leaped up to their feet and shouted for a verdict. How would the little old man pay? How would he suffer for his crime? The judge held up his hands for silence, the gavel being drowned out by the din of voices. The judge, red-faced and surly, pointed at the little old man, "For your crimes against our village, you will be executed for attempted murder of a child!" The crowd in the hall shouted in praise and approval, clapping and cheering. The little old man's eyes rolled back into his head, passing out onto the floor. And Little Red Riding Hood could only stare at his limp frame, wondering what would have happened if everything had gone differently. The little old man was hung from the tree outside city hall at dawn. His body left there to ring testament to any others who would dare attack a small child from the village. Little Red Riding Hood still skipped and traversed the path through the woods to Granny's cottage, a bread knife in her basket. She would whistle and sing through the dark forest, but when she came across the patch of purple and yellow and pink wildflowers, she would become very silent, almost tiptoeing past. The Wolfman had tried to attack her, or was it her fault? The Wolfman would have eaten Granny, or did he just want to talk to her? The Wolfman stole her basket, or did she attack him and then leave him in the dirt? She convinced herself of the narrative she had spun. She retold herself again and again how the little old man deserved what he got. All the details muddled up more and more until all Little Red Riding Hood could remember was the time she saw a wolf leap at her from the dark trees. 

A prince, dressed in fine clothing, walked around,preparing for an evening ball. “Prince Milo, are you ready for the evening ball?” A young maid walked past him, balancing a tray on her small hand.

“Why, yes, Helena.” He smiled. “And you are invited, you may put away your work clothes and slip into a ballgown.” His shiny boots clicked along the tiled floors.

“That is very kind of you, Prince Milo.” The maid stammered. “Yet, I must serve the guests.”

Milo stopped and turned. “Nonesense! You must have time to enjoy yourself.” He looked at the maid. “Don’t worry about your tasks.”

“Yes, sir.” She smiled, her cheeks grew rosey and she rushed to the kitchen.

Milo stopped at the kitchen door and called, “All of you! Take the night off, enjoy the ball!”

His father, the king, appeared. “Milo! What on earth is happening here?”

“I’m giving all the servants a chance to enjoy the ball.” Milo straightened his coat. “They need time off.”

“My dear, Milo... Your kindness and generosity might be the death of you.” The king croaked. “You do know that attitude will not be appropriate for a king. A soft king, does not make a good king.” He spoke firmly.

“Father, you know I don’t want to become king.” Milo narrowed his dark eyes. “I plan on finding a wife, settling down, and working elsewhere.”

“There will be no such talk in this palace!” The king’s voice boomed through the hall, startling the busy servants. The king lowered his voice. “You, as the eldest son in the royal family, will be king. There will be no argument concerning this matter. It is settled.” The king walked away.

Milo huffed and slowly walked throughout the palace, his thoughts swirling like a tornado in his mind.

~*~

The ballroom quickly filled with young women and even some men arrived. Swirling ballgowns and sparkling colors filled the room. The prince stood off to the side, his face was heated up, his father had seen that the servants stayed working. The servants moved busily, refilling plates with small desserts, sandwiches, and other small foods.

“Darling, Milo.” The queen glided up to Milo. “Why don’t you go to dance with one of the ladies? I’m sure many would be happy to dance with the prince.” Her hair was piled high and she wore a shimmering, purple ballgown.

“Mother, I’d rather not.” Milo forced a smile to a passing lady. “I’m perfectly content here.”

“Oh, Milo.” His mother laughed and clucked her tongue before being whisked away into the crowd to socialize.

Milo sat and watched as several couples danced, others ate, still, yet others talked and laughed together. Suddenly, a gorgeous woman stepped into the ballroom. Her blonde hair shone in the lighting, her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires, and her blue dress glittered. Milo swallowed a lump in his throat, the young woman who had just stepped foot into his palace was beautiful! He slowly made his way towards her, everyone at least glanced at the newcomer. Her head dipped and her cheeks turned pink as she walked through the crowd of people.

Prince Milo stepped up to her. “Greetings, Ma’am.” He smiled at her. “I’m Prince Milo.” He reached a hand out to her. “Would you like to dance with me?”

She smiled shyly and placed her gloved hand on his. “I’d be honored to dance with you.”

He led her to a clearing in the ballroom and they danced together. After a time, Milo led her to a table piled with foods. The time passed quickly, suddenly the clock struck eleven. The young lady gasped and started running to leave the ballroom. She gathered up her long dress and ran as fast as she could. She slipped on the steps outside and her glass slipper fell off, but she scrambled away. “Wait!” Milo called, pushing through the doors. “I never caught-” His voice became softer. “your name.” He sighed sadly as he saw she was nowhere in sight.

The girl hid in the bushes, her ballgown gone, she was now dressed in rags. She slid off her other glass slipper and hurried away into the night.

Milo turned to go back inside, his heart heavy. He met the loveliest lady in all the land, yet she hurried away. Something glittered in the moonlight on the steps. He stooped down and picked it up, studying it. It was a small glass slipper, he glanced up and clutched it. An idea formed in his mind.

~*~

The next morning the prince went out through all the land to search for the beautiful young woman. He brought the glass slipper with him, figuring that whoever it fit perfectly, he would take that woman and marry her. The prince and his servant, rode through the land. As the evening drew near, the prince had one place left to see. Prince Milo stopped his horse outside the cottage and had his servant stay outside.

He knocked on the door and took a step back. A woman, with black hair and piercing green eyes, opened the door. “May I help-” She stopped short. “Oh! Prince Milo! What may I do for you?” She asked.

Milo explained of all that had happened and finished with her cottage being the final one to visit. “Come in, come in.” She swung the door open. “Tessa! Beatrice!” She called.

Two girls stepped towards the door. One had green eyes and blonde hair, the other had brown eyes and dark hair. They both resembled the woman who had answered the door.

The girls giggled nervously and whispered. The woman’s eyes shone as she explained why the prince had stopped by. The one girl tried to squeeze her foot into the slipper. Her face turned red as she pulled her foot away. The blonde girl, Beatrice, lept up and pushed her sister out of the chair. “Let me try!” She screeched.

Tessa slid off the chair and stood off to the side with her arms crossed. Beatrice tried to push her foot into the glass slipper, her brow furrowed as she tried to make it fit. She grunted and pushed her foot harder than ever, yet nothing worked. The prince held the glass slipper, disappointment shrouded his face. The sisters now stood next to one another. “I best be on my way.” He sighed and walked towards the door.

“Wait!” A soft voice called from a shadowed corner. Milo turned around, he saw a young woman her blonde hair was braided, she wore a clean, but old looking dress, and her blue eyes were wide. “May I try on the slipper?” She asked.

Milo nodded and motioned for her to sit. He did not yet recognize her. Tessa sneered at the young woman. “You, a servant, try on the shoe?” She laughed.

Beatrice laughed also. “You’re a servant, not a princess, Cind.”

The woman ignored them and tried on the glass slipper, it fit her perfectly! She brought her eyes to meet the prince’s. Her hand slid into her pocket and she pulled out an identical slipper to that one. She slipped it on her other foot and stood.

The prince stood, shocked. This woman, standing before him, was the same one he danced with just the night before! He grasped her hand and gazed into her sparkling blue eyes. “Would you be my wife?” He asked.

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “I’d be honored.” He led her out the door to his horse.

Tessa, Beatrice, and their mother stood watching in the doorway. It was obvious the two girls were jealous. Milo stopped before grabbing his horse’s reins. “I never caught your name.” He pushed a strand of hair from her eyes.

She giggled. “It’s Cinderella. That’s not my real name, but it’s what my step sisters and step mother called me.”

He swung onto his saddle and helped her up beside him. “I’m Prince Milo.” He gathered up the reins. “It’s nice to meet you, Cinderella.”

Prince Milo and Cinderella got married. The prince got his wish, he never did become king. Instead he moved to the country side, he and Cinderella bought a cottage and raised a family. They lived happily ever after.

The End.

Once upon a time, in the far away kingdom of TrinaLand, the king and his wife, the queen, did what people who are in love - or not - do and the queen found herself in the monarchy way. One day while heavily knocked-up, Queen Karyssa was out in the garden, when she pricked her finger, which dropped blood upon the snow-covered ground, thereby prompting her to wish for a daughter with skin as white as snow, lips as red as a ruby, and raven-black hair.

Months later, a fair female child was born and true to the queen’s wishes, she had skin as white as snow, lips as red as a ruby, and raven-black hair. She was thus named Snow White. Sadly, when Snow was but a tot, Queen Karyssa was killed when she ate some tainted shrimp that the royal taster had forgotten to test. In due time, King Marshall remarried, thereby making Queen Lyndora Snow’s stepmother. Even though Snow missed her birth mother, she accepted the new queen and for a time, all was well. Then, the teen years hit.

When Snow turned 15, she saw a tattoo on one of her handmaidens and got it in her head that she wanted one, too. Her parents thought otherwise:

“You are too young for a body marking, Snow! Who ever put such an idea in your head?” asked the king.

“I agree, dear. Why ever would you want to mar such perfect skin?” the queen chimed in. “I do believe that your dear birth mother, may she rest well, had even wished for you to have such a flawless covering.”

“They’re cool!” Snow asserted, stomping one dainty foot. “I can have our crest engraved on my upper arm and show it off forevermore.”

“No, and that is final...Now be a good dear and go tend to your garden. The crabgrass is looking a little too crabby,” the king dismissed his daughter.

Undaunted, Snow hatched a plan and that very night, she had one of the stable boys, who was hankering for some Snowcone, kill her father in his sleep and drag her stepmother into a dungeon, after drugging the guards.

The next morning, Snow tearfully shared the news of her parents’ death with the court and was crowned Queen Snow White. She got her first tattoo that night.

Within the year, Queen Snow White had turned goth and changed her name to Q. Snow Dark. She sported nine inch nails, blackened lips, and a crown made of black thistles which sat atop long, ruby-tipped locs. She also demanded that her song - created by the Royal D.J. - be played when she entered a room after the Royal Announcer announced her name. She giggled that it sounded like, “Cue Snow Dark” just before she pranced in.

As time went on, Q.Snow Dark’s demeanor grew darker and darker, and the peasants suffered. She gave scant attention to their needs and requests, preferring to spend her time further decorating her skin.

Finally, her council-people felt like they had to take matters into their own hands, and a secret meeting was called.

Sir Gresham took the pipe out of his puckered mouth and called the room to order. “Countrymen - and women - I fear things have gotten a bit out of hand. Queen Snow Dark has put our realm into a precarious predicament. If she is not dethroned, we will surely all perish.”

The room applauded, and Sir McCoy spoke up, strumming on his lyre the whole while. “I suggest that rather than us getting our own hands dirty, we hire someone to complete the job. Queen Snow does have her supporters still, so it won’t be an easy task.”

Sir Matthews cleared his voice and stood halfway up, supported by his wooden leg, before addressing the room. “I know some...er...small men...erm...who may be able to do the job. What they lack in stature, they make up for in ingenuity.”

After a bit more discussion, it was agreed upon that the court would call for the “small men” and bid them to accomplish this task.

One week later, Hammer, Claw, Tooth, Nail, Dust, Torch, and Wrecker met with the council in their next clandestine meeting.

“Why have you brought us here?!” Hammer demanded. He was, indeed, quite short, but he was also stocky with prominent veins running through his arms. His pinched face was nearly hidden by his long brown locks, which he carelessly pushed back from his forehead.

Sir Matthews spoke up. “I ASKED you to come because we have a job for you. Pays in carbon.” He struck a match on his leg, lit a blunt, and started smoking.

That got the shorsters’ attention. After a moment, blonde-headed Wrecker spoke. “And just what IS this job?”

Sir McCoy didn’t beat around the bush. “We need you to dethrone the queen.” He plucked a note on his lyre then pointed at them.

“Uh...depose Queen Snow?!” redheaded twins Tooth and Nail exclaimed, their overbites on display.

“Yes. I know you’re not aware of it in your little hovel,” Sir Gresham ignored Hammer’s twin Claw’s withering glare and continued, “but the sweet little girl the realm once admired is long gone, replaced by a conceited and uncaring harridan.”

Another uncomfortable silence followed before Dust asked, “And when the dust...ha-ha! Dust! Get it?” He looked around. “Pfffft. No humor-loving guffs, here!... As I was saying, when the DUST clears, then what?” He sat back down, and a puff of dust arose from his dirty pants.

“It makes no difference to us. Just see to it that she never returns to the throne.”

Torch nodded thoughtfully, rubbed one blue eye, and the meeting continued.

==============================================

Weeks passed and Q. Snow grew worse. Just as the court was planning to request the defenders’ presence again, they made their move.

The queen was at her favorite tattoo cavern, impatiently waiting for the artist, Squid. She looked at the small man who entered. “You’re not Squid!”

“And you’re not queen anymore!” the brunette declared and threw a bag over Snow’s head. She managed to let out a shriek, and her guards and henchmaidens came running. A fight that the narrator was too lazy to detail ensued, and Snow found herself gagged and tied up in a wagon going through the woods.

Finally arriving at their quaint little home, the men carried her in and laid her on a bed of straw. Taking the gag from her mouth, Hammer warned her not to speak, lest he cut out her tongue.

Glaring, she bit her bottom lip and impatiently listened to the little man.

“My name is Hammer, and these are my broskies, Claw - he’s my actual bro - Tooth and Nail, Dust, Torch, and Wrecker.” Each man bowed as his name was called. Dust also gave a little wave before Torch glared at him.

Claw picked up where his lookalike left off. “And we’re your new owners. You will do as we say and if you behave, in due time, we will allow you to own your very own home in these here woods.”

Incredulous, Snow yelled, “Do you KNOW who-”

“Someone who’s gonna be without a tongue, if you keep that up!”

Snow snapped her mouth closed and allowed Claw to finish.

“As I was saying, you will do as we say. You will make our meals, wash our clothes, and clean our home. If you try to escape, you will be caught and ravaged.” He licked his lips lasciviously. “Understand?”

Snow nodded, but of course she didn’t mean it.

A week or so later, while she was outside washing the clothes and plotting her escape, a handsome young man came along. He was taken away by Snow’s black hair and lips, so he introduced himself. She advised that she was Queen Snow and that she’d been kidnapped and forced to perform hard labor.

“Aaaaaah. Yes, I did hear about that. I do believe Queen Lyndora has retaken her throne. But, I am Prince Cillian, and I can take you to my home one realm over, where you can be my queen. Agreed?”

Snow readily agreed and after the young man paid off the defenders, they did, too.

Unfortunately for Snow, the “Prince” was actually an escapee from the loony bin, so shortly after the couple had crossed over to BernieLand, he was recaptured. When Snow protested that she was really the queen of the realm next door, she too was locked up and diagnosed with delusions, and there she still lives.

And what became of the defenders? They got their weights in carbon and are living

Happily Ever After.

The End

Alice giggled, hearing the rabbits chime once more for the fourth time that day. Silly rabbit, how could he be late again? He had already traveled to Queen of Hearts’ castle three times today!

A smile danced it’s way onto her lips as she skipped after the rabbit. She bent down in front of the rabbit hole, this time deciding she would travel on her belly.

She laughed and giggled as she flew down the rabbit hole, the twists and turns making it feel as if it were a waterslide without water.

She was thrown out of the slide, landing on her stomach in a room full of paintings. Just like every other trip, this room had been every bit diffrent from the last. To the tiles covering the floor, to all the cracks in the walls!

She had already lost sight of Mr. Rabbit, he was much, much faster than her after all. She took a moment to admire the beautiful painting that hung off of the walls, knowing she would catch up with the rabbit later on. She always did.

After the paintings began to bore her, she continued down the long, stretched hallway, her shoes making no noise against the red carpet placed below her.

There was a large archway towards the end of the tunnle. Alice sped up, her skip turning into a run.

She giggled as she closed her eyes, a cold sensation washing over her as she stepped out of the tunnel. It felt like hard pelts on her now freezing skin, a cold breeze of air flowing around her, hitting her in the face. Her eyes flew open and she was met with a wall filled with graffiti in front of her.

No no no no no I always find Mr. Rabit at the end of the tunnel!

Panic flodded Alice. She looked down, her dirty, blond hair falling into veiw as she ummaged around in her muddy pant pocket. She was shakey as she pulled out a small bottle.

A pill bottle.

Gruff suspected that something was wrong with Graff. His youngest brother was no longer the gambolling, carefree soul he had once been. No longer content on their side of the river, Graff yearningly stared across the rushing waters at the green meadow beyond.

The change had come about two days after he, Gruff, had suffered a night of bad dreams. In his sleep he had envisioned that a moth, black as the night it swooped through, had danced in his ear.

‘Let me in, let me in,’ the moth had called.

Awakening in fear, Gruff had checked on his younger siblings. All was well, and the moth’s chant had drifted away on the night breeze.

Now, with the nightmare nothing but a receding memory, Gruff wondered what could have had gotten into Graff to cause his brother’s longing for yonder grass.

*

Hearing the trip-trap of tiny hooves on its roof, the troll rose from its lair. It climbed from the dampness by the river and heaved itself onto the wooden bridge. Before it, a small goat trembled in fear.

‘Hello, food,’ the trolled growled with a lascivious smile. As it stepped forward, its breakfast spoke to it.

‘Please, o might troll, you would not like to eat me, for I am weak and scrawny. Have patience, for soon my brother Griff will come, and he is by far a tastier meal.’

The troll’s stomach grumbled, shaking the rickety bridge. It was true that this young goat before it would not fill its belly. Perhaps if it waited, it would be rewarded with a meatier offering.

Reluctantly, the troll allowed the kid passage and returned to its bed.

It was not long before the troll heard more trip-trapping overhead. Clambering up once more, it was delighted to see a better morsal had arrived.

‘Hello, food,’ it said lustfully. As the troll stepped forward, its lunch spoke.

‘Please, o might troll, you would not like to eat me, for I am small by comparison to my brother Gruff. Have patience, for soon he will come and a more delicious meal he is by far.’

Having skipped breakfast and twice exerted itself with the journey from its home to the bridge-top, the troll’s hunger was ferocious. This medium-sized goat before it had no chance of sating its craving for meat. Again, the troll let the food go past and went back to its lair.

The next trip-trap, trip-trap the troll heard was louder. With glee, it hurried back up the bridge and smiled at the juicy, fat goat before it.

‘Hello, food,’ it said licentiously. Stepping forward, the troll was not surprised to hear its dinner speak.

‘Please, o might troll, you would not like to challenge me, for I am strong and wily and would surely best you in combat.’

The troll grinned, drool slobbering down its chin. It lifted its heavy club, ready to bash at the large goat, but the goat was faster. Gruff rushed at the troll, snared it in his horns and tossed the troll over the side of the bridge. The troll, hungry, helpless and exhausted by its futile climbs up and down the bridge, was swept away by the strong river current.

And, in the green meadow, the three brother goats enjoyed the bountiful grass.

*

That evening, the night-moth freed itself from Graff and returned to the castle beyond the meadow. The Mistress would be pleased. Her plan had worked.

For months she had hungrily looked on at the pleasant food the three goats offered. But she knew she had no chance of devouring them, not while her captor still lay in wait under the bridge.

A long time ago a queen of a small little kingdom gave birth to a fucked up firstborn named Cinder - or Cin, for short. The queen felt so proud of her little one she whisked her away from her father - who didn’t apparently care or notice - and placed her upon a pedestal encased in glass to prevent the outside world from ever possibly damaging her mint condition. Cinder stayed trapped inside four walls, able to see the grander world beyond yet never able to touch it.

Then one day a lowly little goblin thief happened by and greedily spied the shiny box. He always loved a challenge, and after some quick thinking he managed to knock said box from its pedestal and onto the ground. When it shattered into a thousand pieces he gently reached in and pulled Cinder up. “Hey - what were you doing trapped inside a box?”

She blinked. “I was trapped inside a box? I didn’t see one. Did no one hear me screaming?”

The little goblin thief - also a fucked up firstborn, except sadly his father had stayed - shook his head. There had been too much screaming for both of them growing up, so he whisked his little collectible away to his den where they built a Fortress of Friendship. For many happy years they reclaimed their childhoods playing games, rolling dice, singing songs, and living happily without ever needing to shout (except maybe over differences in strategy).

One day a letter came from Cinder’s stepbrother - a wayward bard with an eye for the ladies. Cinder loved her stepbrother, and he had apparently caught the eye of a princess in the neighboring kingdom. They had given birth to a beautiful little girl who was the gem of the court, always dressed up and smiling. Cinder had thought they were doing well.

Her stepbrother’s letter, however, was not well.

The royal family had forced her stepbrother to work for them in their palace, cooking meals, cleaning, doing home repairs, all while constantly trying to work and support his child. He spent several sleepless nights working late unto the dawn in taverns for tips, coming home nearly passed out to try and spend moments with his precious little one. Yet the royal family snubbed him, for he was but a lowly bard and his eye would still travel to the ladies every now and then. They complained he had not brought a true prince’s fortunes with him, and made him feel a failure for having to stay inside the royal castle with the princess. Whenever he tried to complain he could not keep up or afford his own castle, the princess would scream at him about how she had kept up ruling a kingdom and raising a child - obviously he should have been able to live up to her expectations as well as her standards.

At the end of the letter her stepbrother also admitted that he had never actually wanted a child; the princess had decided for them. He had only wanted to be a good father to his little one - not like Cinder’s father - so he stayed for many years to try and work things out.

Cinder showed his letter to her goblin thief and they grew very, very angry. People did not like them when they were angry. Firstborns have a tendency to demand their way.

They rode to the princess’ tower together, and before Cinder could explode (as Cinder admittedly had a tendency to do) the goblin thief piped up, “Excuse me, princess, but I would like to make a bargain.”

The princess eyed the goblin thief suspiciously (as she should - goblin thieves are very devious) before asking, “And what bargain would you like to make?”

“In exchange for your firstborn, I will take that lowly husband off your hands and find you a better one.”

She sniffed. She had worked hard to catch her husband, and she rather liked how he took care of things around the house. “Why would I give you my own child?”

“Well, you used her to catch a man once already - why not hold out for what you really want?” The goblin’s grin grew twisted. “You don’t want some sloppy, middle-child bard do you? I mean, he’s cute and funny but I bet what you really want are one of those strapping firstborn knights that go around rescuing poor princesses like you from lonely lives of luxury.”

Considering, the princess asked, “How would you guarantee me my own knight in exchange?”

“Simple,” the goblin offered, “No knight wants a woman with a child, children are an inconvience and they like to make their own.” He opened his hands wide. “Therefore if you give us your child you needn’t worry about that anymore. And your silly bard of a husband will likely leave you to follow her, easy as pie.”

His plan made logical sense - as goblin plans often do - and the princess thought for a few more moments before clearing her throat, “Very well. But I am a good mother, and I will demand visitation rights to my child.”

“Absolutely! As you should, all good mothers put their children first.” Cinder’s fists twitched but the goblin thief held her back. “Now - we’ll just collect your darling parcel and your foppish man and spread the word that a poor princess appears to have been trapped inside a lonely tower here.”

Nodding in excitement, the princess began brushing her hair in preparation. “Excellent! I shall wait for him here, then. All knights know it’s polite to make the first move.”

The goblin thief’s eyes glowed. “Oh yes. So polite.” He motioned for Cinder to fetch her stepbrother and niece. “It’s been lovely doing business with you, princess!”

“Likewise, little green one. I had thought your kind quite stupid but you can actually make sense.”

Cinder nearly exploded but her stepbrother and niece quickly distracted her into the carriage. The party rode back to the Fortress of Friendship, where they continued to play, sing, laugh, and support each other as true families do. And there was never any shouting - except over differences in strategy.

Clenching her jaw to hold back tears, Gillian gently swept a stray hair from her mother's forehead. She forced herself not to recoil at the clammy skin, so frail she worried her fingers might leave a bruise. Her mother was rapidly losing color and breathing shallowly. She didn't have much time.

"I won't fail you, Mom," Gillian promised, forcing herself to turn to the door. She walked out, head bowed.

Outside, her brother Jonathan prepared the horses. "Ready," he asked, his dark eyes determined and focused.

Gillian nodded. "Let's go, Jack."

They always knew this day would come, when they would summit Mt. Prile. Legend told of a mythical pool, filled only by the mountain top clouds, that had the power to heal.

When they were younger, they dreamed of adventuring up the jagged cliffside, but few travelers survived. Those that did, didn't return the same as when they had left. Shattered men, they were, heads clouded delusions and hysteria.

But the siblings knew there was no other option. They needed water from the pool for their ailing mother.

Gillian threw a leg over the saddle of her chestnut quarter horse, and Jonathan did the same to his dappled gray. The mares were getting on in years and not very fast. But, the old girls were reliable and would get the siblings started on their journey. Time passed slowly and all too rapidly. The siblings rode quietly, their minds consumed by thoughts of Mother. Gently trotting on horseback, they were safe. But Mother needed the water, and a challenge faced them ahead.

The black sand underhoof turned to pebbles, then rocks, then eventually boulders. When the horses had gone as far as they could, the siblings dismounted.

"Together?" Jonathan asked, dipping hands into a chalk bag.

"Together." Gillian agreed, also coating her palms. She tied a rope around her waist as her brother did the same. They knotted the ends together then each started to rock climb up the mountainside.

The terrain was treacherous and each slipped more than a few times. Gillian attempted to anchor into the cliffside when she could, but that slowed them down considerably. They didn't have the luxury of time. Or safety.

Trusting each other, they pinched, stretched, and leapt their way up the mountain's face until they emerged at a small meadow covered in Indian paintbrush and other wildflowers.

Jonathan sighed, tears brimming his eyes. "Mother would love these," he breathed. Gillian nodded in agreement, but they didn't have time for flower picking. She urged her brother onward, but the grief of weeks of watching his mother waste away bore into Jonathan. His limbs felt leaden. He knew she wasn't gone yet, but the realization that she may never get to see beauty like this again weighed heavily on him.

"Jack!" Gillian stressed, trying to get her brother's attention. She grabbed his shoulder. Jonathan yelped and jerked away. Gillian noticed Jonathan's tunic cling under his arm to his ribs, where a dark stain was forming. He had cut himself on the ascent. Jonathan turned away, looking more morose and defeated than ever.

Gillian examined the wound. It was small and mostly superficial, rugburn most likely from scraping past some particularly sharp basalt. Jonathan would be fine. His mental health on the other hand, she wasn't so sure about.

"Why don't you stay here for a bit, bud" she soothed. "Pick some Indian paintbrush for mom?"

Jonathan sniffed and shrugged agreeably with his good arm. He wouldn't be much help climbing farther. Jonathan set to gathering flowers while Gillian chalked her hands. Past the field, the cliffside jutted up at an acute angle. It wasn't much farther, and atop the overhang would be an ideal place for nature to form a pool.

Gillian focused on her breaths as she swung hand over hand, creeping up the side of the overhang. Footholds were few, and for most of her ascent, her feet dangled. Finally, at the lip of the cliff, she squeezed her feet into small gaps in the rockface, creating toe holds.

She strained with her legs then pulled herself onto the overhang. There, surrounded in mist, was the pool! She pulled a sun-aged, ceramic canteen from her belt and submerged it in the still waters.

As soon as her fingers brushed the water's surface, all the scrapes and burns from rock climbing disappeared. She splashed some water on her throbbing legs, blistered feet, aching shoulders, and biceps. She immediately felt as refreshed as she'd ever been.

Gillian quickly stoppered the canteen, returned it to her belt, and made the descent back to her brother.

Jonathan was amiably sitting in the field, having woven his freshly picked flowers into a crown. Gillian smiled at her brother. "Mom will love that," she said motioning to the arrangement.

Jonathan beamed. With their mother's vision going, he wanted to ensure the flowers would be near enough to her that she couldn't miss them. He was quite proud of the crown himself, and it smelled divine. He popped it on his own head.

Gillian opened the canteen and dabbed a few drops of water onto Jonathan's wound and palms. He stretched his fingers nimbly, abrasions gone, and leaned to the side. His ribs no longer hurt. "Ready, Jill?" Jonathan asked for the second time today, this time with a gleeful glint in his eye.

"Ready." Gillian responded, equally excited. They had done it! They had the cure and were returning to Mother.

The pair descended the cliffside like mountain goats, no ropes, no cares. They scampered over the boulders at the cliff face, realizing how fortunate they were. The rest of the way was easy. The horses had wandered, but that wasn't unusual. Gillian and Jonathan whistled for their mares. They were feeling so good the pair decided to run until the animals could catch up. They didn't want to lose a moment of time.

They ran over the small rocks and pebbles. They ran on the black sand. All was well until Jonathan, whose soles had not been splashed with the healing water, caught his toe under a ripple in the sand. He careened forward, flapping wildly, but wasn't able to catch himself. Jonathan fell face first into the black mountain sand, his flower crown scattering to pieces.

Attempting to catch her brother, Gillian also toppled, landing hard on her hip. The canteen shattered, every last drop of water quickly absorbed into the thirsty sands.

"NO!" both siblings cried. But it was too late. Alerted by the noise, the mares cantered up, tossing their manes and whinnying. The horses stomped at the ground. Gillian and Jonathan had failed. And by the looks of the horses, this was it. Mother was dying.

With Gillian's help, Jonathan grabbed fistfuls of his decimated flower crown. He choked back a sob. They say smell is the last sense to go. If they hurried, at least he could give Mother something.

The siblings mounted their horses, clutched their flowers, and rode home.

Mother never looked so gaunt. Jonathan and Gillian approached her bedside. "For you, Mother," Gillian said, laying the soft Indian paintbrush on the dying woman's forehead.

"We picked them special," Jonathan said. "On Mt. Prile, just for you." He held a flower lightly under her nose. Gillian squeezed her mother's hand. With her other hand, she gently stroked her mother's forehead.

The skin was warm to her touch. Not hot. Just warm. Like skin should be.

Mother inhaled deeply. Her nose was gaining color again. And her head.

"Mother?" Gillian asked.

Jonathan gasped. "That's it!" he snapped. He pulled the yellow tip from the Indian paintbrush, and there, in its petal, was a single drop of nectar. He squeezed it into Mother's mouth.

"Jack, what are you--" started Gillian. "That's not water."

"What do you think grows the wildflowers, Jill? How do they get their moisture?"

Gillian gasped. Of course! The mist. Evaporation from the pool would sustain the meadow. Mother squeezed her hand.

"My smart children," Mother said, pulling them both into an embrace. The siblings suddenly no longer cared how the pool or the flowers worked. They were just happy to have their mother healthy again.

They also didn't care about how the story of their adventures became distorted by the town after numerous retellings. Perhaps you've heard it:

Jack and Jill

went up the hill

to fetch a pail of water.

Jack fell down

and broke his crown

and Jill came tumbling after.

This is the story of Hansel & Gretel.

Once upon a time there was a farmer. He fell in love with a yoga instructor. The two had a happy life living on their small farm. After being married for a couple years they found out they were expecting twins. The couple decided to name the twins Hansel & Gretel.

The twins were your normal babies at first. As they grew up things began to change. The town folk found out that the husband was a pot farmer. They also heard rumors about the wife and thought she was using magic. When she was actually just recharging her crystals.

The town people were very narrow minded and did not understand the families lifestyle. They started to threaten the family. When Hansel and Gretel were only ten, the couple decided to send them to live with an aunt. Well they were to be dropped off at a trail head, but the Aunt never showed.

Hansel & Gretel got bored waiting and ventured out on their own. They got lost on the trail and nobody came looking for them. After walking for what seemed like days. They found an abandoned cabin in the mountains and made it their shelter. They learned to forage for food. After awhile that got old and they went exploring to see if they could find others. After some hiking, they were able to find a small village not too far from the cabin.

As the years went by they started to come into their own. Hansel started finding other guys in the Small village to hang out with. He and his new found friends made a metal band and called themselves The Troublemakers. Gretel was kinda a goth & a bit of a loner. She started to hang out on full moons by a small forest clearing, where the moss just hangs from the trees. On one of the full moons Gretel noticed there were a few other young ladies in her favorite forest spot. They asked if she wanted to join them. This was the start of Gretel joining a witches coven.

At this point Hansel & Gretel are approaching 16. They were doing ok on their own. Hansel had his band & Gretel had joined a coven. Their parents never came to look for them & they never tried to find their way back home. At this point they figured they were better off on their own.

-- The End --