There once lived an economically disadvantaged tinker and his wife. His lack of material accomplishment is not meant to imply that all tinkers are economically marginalized, or that if they are, they deserve to be so. While the archetype of the tinker is generally the whipping person in classical bedtime stories, this particular individual was a tinker by trade and just happened to be economically disadvantaged. The tinker and his wife lived in a little hovel next to the modest estate of a local witch. From their window, they could see the witch’s meticulously kept garden, a nauseating attempt to impose human notions of order onto Nature. The wife of the tinker was pregnant, and as she gazed at the witch’s garden, she began to crave some of the lettuce she saw growing there. She begged the tinker to jump the fence and get some for her. The tinker finally submitted, and at night he jumped the wall and liberated some of the lettuce. But before he could get back, the witch caught him. Now, this witch was very kindness-impaired. (This is not meant to imply that all, or even some, witches are that way, nor to deny this particular witch her right to express whatever disposition came naturally to her. Far from it, her disposition was without doubt due to many factors of her upbringing and socialization, which, unfortunately must be omitted here in the interest of brevity.) As mentioned earlier, the witch was kindness-impaired, and the tinker was extremely frightened. She held him by the scruff of the neck and asked, “Where are you going with my lettuce?” The tinker might have argued with her over the concept of ownership and stated that the lettuce rightfully “belonged” to anyone who was hungry and had nerve enough to take it. Instead, in a degrading spectacle, he pleaded for mercy. “It was my wife’s fault,” he cried in a characteristically male manner. “She is pregnant and has a craving for some of your lovely lettuce. Please spare me. Although a single-parent household is certainly acceptable, please don’t kill me and deprive my child of a stable, two-parent family structure.” The witch thought for a moment, then let go of the tinker’s neck and disappeared without a word. The tinker gratefully went home with the lettuce. A few months later, and after agonizing pain that a man will never really be able to appreciate, the tinker’s wife gave birth to a beautiful, healthy prewyman. They named the baby Rapunzel, after a type of lettuce. Not long after this, the witch appeared at their door, demanding that they give her the child in return for the witch’s having spared the tinker’s life in the garden. What could they do? Their powerless station in life had always left them open to exploitation, and this time they felt they had no alternative. They gave Rapunzel to the witch, who sped away. The witch took the child deep into the woods and imprisoned her in a tall tower, the symbolism of which should be obvious. There Rapunzel grew to wymanhood. The tower had no door or stairs, but it did boast a single window at the top. The only way for anyone to get to the window was for Rapunzel to let down her long, luxurious hair and climb it to the top, the symbolism of which should also be obvious. The witch was Rapunzel’s only companion. She would stand at the foot of the tower and shout, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, “That I might climb your golden stair.” Rapunzel obediently did as she was told. Thus for years she let her body be exploited for the transportational needs of another. The witch loved music and taught Rapunzel to sing. They passed many long hours singing together in the tower. One day a young prince rode near the tower and heard Rapunzel singing. But as he rode closer to find the source of the lovely sound, he spied the witch and hid himself and his equine companion in the trees. He watched as the witch called out to Rapunzel, the hair fell down, and the witch climbed up. Again, he heard the beautiful singing. Later, when the witch finally exited the tower and disappeared in the other direction, the prince came out of the woods and called up: “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, “That I might climb your golden stair.” The hair cascaded from the window, and he climbed up. When the prince saw Rapunzel, her greater-than-average physical attractiveness and her long, luxurious hair led him to think, in a typically lookist way, that her personality would also be beautiful. (This is not to imply that all princes judge people solely on their appearance, nor to deny this particular prince his right to make such assumptions. Please see the disclaimers in the paragraphs above.) The prince said, “Oh, beautiful damsel, I heard you singing as I rode by on my horse. Please sing for me again.” Rapunzel didn’t know what to make of this person, since she had never seen a man up close before. He seemed a strange creature – large, hairy in the face, and possessing a strong, musky odor. For reasons she could not explain, Rapunzel found this combination somewhat attractive and opened her mouth to sing. “Stop right there!” screamed a voice from the window. The witch had returned! “How… how did you get up here?” Rapunzel asked. “I had an extra set of hair made, in case of emergency,” said the witch matter-of-factly. “And this certainly looks like one. Listen to me, Prince! I built this tower to keep Rapunzel away from men like you. I taught her to sing, training her voice for years. She’ll stay here and sing for no one but me, because I am the only one who truly loves her.” “We can talk about your codependency problems later,” said the prince. “But first let me hear… Rapunzel, is it? … let me hear Rapunzel sing.” “NO!” screamed the witch. “I’m going to throw you from the tower into the thorn-of-color bushes below so that your eyes will be gouged out and you’ll wander the countryside cursing your bad luck for the rest of your life!” “You may want to reconsider that,” said the prince. “I have some friends in the recording industry, you see, who would be very interested in … Rapunzel, wasn’t it? Different, kind of catchy, I suppose ….” “I knew it! You want to take her from me!” “No, no, I want you to continue to train her, to nurture her… as her manager,” said the prince. “Then, when the time is right, say a week or two, you can unleash her talent on the world and we can all rake in the cash.” The witch paused for a second to think about this, and her demeanor visibly softened. She and the prince began to discuss record contracts and video deals, as well as possible marketing ideas, including life-like Rapunzel™ dolls with their very own miniature stereo Tune-Towers™. As Rapunzel watched, her suspicions turned into revulsion. For years, her hair had been exploited for the transportational needs of others. Now they wanted to exploit her voice as well. “So, rapaciousness does not depend solely on gender,” she realized with a sigh. Rapunzel edged her way to the window without being seen. She stepped out and climbed down the second set of hair to the prince’s waiting horse. She dislodged the hair and took it with her as she rode off leaving the witch and the prince to argue about royalties and percentages in their phallusshaped tower. Rapunzel rode to the city and rented a room in a building that had real stairs. She later established the non-profit Foundation for the Free Proliferation of Music and cut off her hair for a fund-raising auction. She sang for free in coffee houses and art galleries for the rest of her days, always refusing to exploit for money other people’s desires to hear her sing.
The Revenge of Rumpelstiltskin —
Rumpelstiltskin returns with a new challenge: the princess’s newborn child will be taken if she cannot guess the angry gnome’s correct pronouns.
There was once a young person named Red Riding Hood who lived with her mother on the edge of a large wood.
One day her mother asked her to take a basket of fresh fruit and mineral water to her grandmother’s house – not because this was womyn’s work, mind you, but because the deed was generous and helped engender a feeling of community.
Furthermore, her grandmother was not sick, but rather was in full physical and mental health and was fully capable of taking care of herself as a mature adult.
So Red Riding Hood set off with her basket through the woods.
Many people believed that the forest was a foreboding and dangerous place and never set foot in it. Red Riding Hood, however, was confident enough in her own budding sexuality that such obvious Freudian imaginery did not intimidate her.
On the way to Grandma’s house, Red Riding Hood was accosted by a wolf, who asked her what was in her basket.
She replied, “Some healthful snacks for my grandmother, who is certainly capable of taking care of herself as a mature adult.”
The wolf said, “You know, my dear, it isn’t safe for a little girl to walk through these woods alone.”
Red Riding Hood said, “I find your sexist remark offensive in the extreme, but I will ignore it because of your traditional status as an outcast from society, the stress of which has caused you to develop your own, entirely valid, worldview. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be on my way.”
Red Riding Hood walked on along the main path.
But, because his status outside society has freed him from slavish adherence to linear, Western-style thought, the wolf knew a quicker route to Grandma’s house.
He burst into the house and ate Grandma, an entirely valid course of action for a carnivore such as himself.
Then, unhampered by rigid, traditionalist notions of what was masculine or feminine, he put on Grandma’s nightclothes and crawled into bed.
Red Riding Hood entered the cottage and said, “Grandma, I have brought you some fat-free, sodium-free snacks to salute you in your role of a wise and nurturing matriarch.”
From the bed, the wolf said softly, “Come closer, child, so that I might see you.”
Red Riding Hood said, “Oh, I forgot you are as optically challenged as a bat. Grandma, what big eyes you have!”
“They have seen much, and forgiven much, my dear.”
“Grandma, what a big nose you have – only relatively, of course, and certainly attractive in its own way.”
“It has smelled much, and forgiven much, my dear.”
“Grandma, what big teeth you have!”
The wolf said, “I am happy with who I am and what I am,” and leaped out of bed.
He grabbed Red Riding Hood in his claws, intent on devouring her.
Red Riding Hood screamed, not out of alarm at the wolf’s apparent tendency toward cross-dressing, but because of his willful invasion of her personal space.
Her screams were heard by a passing wood chopper-person (or log-fuel technician, as he preferred to be called). When he burst into the cottage, he saw the melee there and tried to intervene.
But as he raised his ax, Red Riding Hood and the wolf both stopped.
“And just what do you think you’re doing?” asked Red Riding Hood.
The wood chopper-person blinked and tried to answer, but no words came to him.
“Bursting in here like a Neanderthal, trusting your weapon to do your thinking for you!” she exclaimed.
“Sexist! Speciesist! How dare you assume that womyn and wolves can’t solve their own problems without a man’s help!”
When she heard Red Riding Hood’s impassioned speech, Grandma jumped out of the Wolf’s mouth, took the wood chopper-person’s ax, and cut his head off.
After this ordeal, Red Riding Hood, Grandma, and the Wolf felt a certain commonality of purpose. They decided to set up an alternative household based on mutual respect and cooperation and lived happily ever after.
Once there was a young princess who was not at all unpleasant to look at and had a temperament that many found to be more pleasant than most other people’s. Her nickname was Snow white, indicative of the discriminatory notions of associating pleasant or attractive qualities with light, and unpleasant or unattractive qualities with darkness. Thus, at an early age, Snow White was an unwitting if fortunate target for this type of colorist thinking. When Snow white was quite young, her mother was suddenly stricken ill, grew more advanced in nonhealth, and finally was rendered nonviable. Her father, the king, grieved for what can be considered a healthy period of time, then asked another wommon to be his queen. Snow white did her best to please her new mother-of-step, but a cold distance remained between them. The queen’s prized possession was a magic mirror that would answer truthfully any question asked it. Now years of social conditioning in a male hierarchical dictatorship had left the queen very insecure about her own self-worth. Physical beauty was the one standard she cared about now and she defined herself solely in regard to her personal appearance. So every morning the queen would ask her mirror: “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, “Who’s the fairest one of all?” Her mirror would answer: “For all it’s worth, O my queen, “Your beauty is the fairest to be seen.” That dialogue went on regularly until once when the queen was having a bad hair day and was desperately in need of support, she asked the usual question and the mirror answered: “Alas, if worth be based on beauty, “Snow White has surpassed you, cutie.” At this the queen flew into a rage. The chance to work with Snow White to form a strong bond of sisterhood had long passed. Instead, the queen indulged in an adopted masculine power trip and ordered the royal woodsperson to take Snow White into the forest and kill her. And, possibly to impress the males in the royal court, she barbarously ordered that the girl’s heart be cut out and brought back to her. The woodsperson sadly agreed to these orders, and led the girl, who was now actually a young wommon, into the middle of the forest. But his connections to the earth and seasons had made him a kind soul, and he couldn’t bear to harm the girl. He told Snow White of the oppressive and unsisterly order of the queen and told her to run as deeply as she could into the forest. The frightened Snow White did as she was told. The woodsperson, fearing the queen’s wrath but unwilling to take another life merely to indulge her vanity went into town and had the candy maker concoct a heart of red marzipan. When he presented this to the queen, she hungrily devoured the heart in a sickening display of pseudo-cannibalism. Meanwhile, Snow White ran deep into the woods. Just when she thought she had fled as far as she could from civilization and its unhealthy influences, she stumbled upon a cottage. Inside she saw seven tiny beds, set in a row and all unmade. She also saw seven sets of dishes piled high in the sink and seven Barcaloungers in front of seven remote-controlled TVs. She surmised that the cottage belonged to either seven little men or one sloppy numerologist. The beds looked so inviting that the tired youngster curled up on one and immediately fell asleep. When she awoke several hours later, she saw the faces of seven bearded, vertically challenged men surrounding the bed. She sat up with a start and gasped. One of the men said, “You see that? Just like a flighty woman: resting peacefully one minute, up and screaming the next.” “I agree,” said another. “She’ll disrupt our strong bond of brotherhood and create competition among us for her affections. I say we throw her in the river in a sack full of rocks.” “I agree we should get rid of her,” said a third, “but why degrade the ecology? Let’s just feed her to a bear or something and let her become part of the food chain.” “Hear, hear!” “Sound thinking, brother.” When Snow White finally regained her senses, she begged, “Please, please don’t kill me. I meant no harm by sleeping on your bed. I thought no one would ever notice.” “Ah, you see?” said one of the men. “Female preoccupations are already surfacing. She’s complaining that we don’t make our beds.” “Kill her! Kill her!” “Please, no!” she cried. “I have traveled so deep into these woods because my mother-of-step, the queen, ordered me killed.” “See that? Internecine female vindictiveness!” “Don’t try and play the victim with us, kid!” “QUIET!” boomed one of the men, who had flaming red hair and a nonhuman animal skin on his head. Snow White quickly realized that he was their leader and that her fate rested in his hands. “Explain yourself what’s your name, and why have you really come here?” “My name is Snow White,” she began, “and I’ve already told you: My mother-of-step, the queen, ordered a woodsperson to take me in the forest and kill me, but he took pity and told me to run away into the woods as far as I could.” “Just like a woman,” grumbled one of the men under his breath, “get a man to do her dirty work.” The leader held up his hands for silence. He said, “Well, Snow White, if that’s your story I guess we’ll have to believe you.” Snow White was beginning to resent her treatment but tried not to let it show. “And who are you guys, anyway?” “We are known as the Seven Towering Giants,” said the leader. Snow White’s suppression of a giggle did not go unnoticed. The leader continued. “We are towering in spirit and so are giants among the men of the forest. We used to earn our living by digging in our mines, but we decided that such a rape of the planet was immoral and short-sighted (besides, the bottom fell out of the metals market). So now we are dedicated stewards of the earth and live here in harmony with nature. To make ends meet, we also conduct retreats for men who need to get in touch with their primitive masculine identities.” “So what does that involve,” asked Snow White, “aside from drinking milk straight from the carton?” “Your sarcasm is ill-advised,” warned the leader of the Seven Towering Giants. “My fellow giants want to get rid of your corrupting feminine presence, and I might not be able to stop them, understand? My men, we must speak our hearts openly and honestly. Let us adjourn to the sweat lodge!” The seven little men scampered out the front door, whooping and stripping off their clothes. Snow White didn’t know what to do while waiting. For fear of stepping on anything that might be scurrying about amid the debris on the floor, she stayed on the bed, although she did manage to make it without ever stepping off. Snow White heard drumming and shouts, and, soon after, the Seven Towering Giants came back into the cottage. They didn’t smell as bad as she thought they would, and thankfully they all wore loincloths. “Agggh! Look what she’s done to my bed! I want her out of here! I want to change my vote!” “Calm down, brother,” said the leader. “Don’t you see? This is just what we were talking about: contrasts. We can better measure our progress as true men if there is a female around for comparison.” The men grumbled among themselves about the wisdom of this decision. But Snow White had had enough. “I resent being kept around like an object, just a yardstick for your egos and penises!” “Fair enough,” the leader said. “You’re free to make your way back through the woods. Give our regards to the queen.” “Well, I guess I can stay until I figure out a new plan,” she said. “Very well,” said the leader, “but we have a few ground rules. No dusting. No straightening up. And no rinsing out underwear in the sink.” “And no peeking in the sweat lodge.” “And stay away from our drums.” Meanwhile, back at the castle, the queen rejoiced at the thought that her rival in beauty had been eliminated. She puttered around her boudoir reading Glamour and Elle, and indulged herself with three whole pieces of chocolate without purging. Later, she confidently strolled up to her magic mirror and asked her same, sad question: “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, “Who’s the fairest one of all?” The mirror replied, “Your weight is perfect for your shape and height, “But for sheer OOOOMPH!, you can’t beat Snow White.” At this news, the queen clenched her fists and screamed at the top of her lungs. For years, her insecurities had been eating away at her until now they turned her into someone who was morally out of the mainstream. With cunning and malice, she began to devise a plan to ensure the nonviability of her daughter-of-step. A few days later, Snow White, to be sure she didn’t touch or rearrange anything, was meditating on the floor in the middle of the cottage. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Snow White opened the door to find a chronologically gifted woman with a basket in her hand. By the look of her clothes, she was apparently unfettered by the confines of regular employment. “Help a woman of unreliable income, dearie,” she said, “and buy one of my apples.” Snow White thought for a moment. In protest against agribusiness conglomerates, she had a personal rule against buying food from middlepersons. But her heart went out to the economically marginalized woman, so she said yes. What Snow White didn’t know was that this was really the queen in disguise and that the apple had been chemically and genetically altered so that whoever bit it would sleep forever. When Snow White handed over the money for the apple, you would have expected the queen to be gleeful that her plan for revenge was working. Instead, as she looked at Snow White’s fine complexion and slim, taut body, she felt alternating waves of envy and self-revulsion. Finally she burst into tears. “Why, whatever is the matter?” asked Snow White. “You’re so young and beautiful,” sobbed the disguised queen, “and I’m horrible to look at and getting worse.” “You shouldn’t say that. After all, beauty comes from inside a person.” “I’ve been telling myself that for years,” said the queen, “and I still don’t believe it. How do you stay in such perfect shape?” “Well, I meditate, work out in step aerobics three hours a day; and eat only half-portions of anything placed in front of me. Would you like me to show you?” “Oh, yes, yes, please,” said the queen. So they started out with 30 minutes of simple hatha yoga meditation, then worked out on the step for another hour. As they relaxed afterward, Snow White cut her apple in half and gave a piece to the queen. Without thinking, the queen bit into it, and both of them fell into a deep sleep. Later that day, the Seven Towering Giants returned from a retreat in the woods, elaborately decked out in animal skins, feathers, and mud. With them was a prince from a nearby kingdom, who had come on this male retreat to find a cure for his impotence (or, as he preferred to call it, his involuntary suspension from phallocentric activity). They were all laughing and high-fiving until they saw the bodies and stopped short. “What has happened?” asked the prince. “Apparently our house guest and this other woman got into some sort of catfight and killed each other,” surmised one giant. “If they thought that by doing this, they could make us slaves to our weaker emotions, they’re wrong,” fumed another. “Well, as long as we have to dispose of them, let’s practice one of those Viking funerals we’ve read about.” “You know” said the prince, “this might sound a little sick, but I trust you guys. I find that younger one attractive. Extremely attractive. Would you fellows mind… um… waiting outside while I…?” “Stop right there!” said the leader of the giants. “Those half-eaten apple pieces, that filthy costume – this has all the earmarks of some sort of magic spell. They’re not really dead at all.” “Whew,” sighed the prince, “that makes me feel better. So, could you guys take five and let me… ?” “Hold it, Prince,’ said the leader. “Does Snow White make you feel like a man again?” “She certainly does. Now could you guys… ?” “Don’t touch her! You’ll break the spell.” The leader thought for a minute and said, “My brothers, I see certain economic possibilities arising from this. If we kept Snow White around here in this state, we could advertise our retreats as impotency therapy.” The giants nodded in agreement with this idea, but the prince interrupted, “But what about me? I’ve already paid for my retreat. Why don’t I get to, um, take the cure?” “No dice, Prince,” said the leader. “You can look but don’t touch. Otherwise you’ll break the spell. Tell you what, though. You can have the other one if you want.” “I don’t want to sound classist,” said the prince, “but she’s not high enough caliber for me.” “That’s pretty big talk from a man shooting blanks,” said one of the giants, and everybody but the prince laughed. The leader said, “Come on, brothers, let’s lift these two off the floor and decide how we can best display them.” It took three giants for each female, but they managed to get both bodies aloft. As soon as they did, however, the pieces of poisoned apple fell from the mouths of Snow White and the queen, and they awoke from the spell. “What do you think you’re doing? Put us down!” they shouted. The giants were so startled they almost dropped the womyn to the floor. “That was the most sickening thing I have ever heard!” shouted the queen. “Offering us around like pieces of property!” “And you,” said Snow White to the prince, “trying to make it with a girl in a coma! Yuck!” “Hey, don’t blame me,” said the prince. “It’s a medical condition.” The leader of the giants said, “Don’t start tossing blame around. You both broke into our property in the first place. I can call the police!” “Don’t try it, Napoleon,” said the queen. “This forest is property of the crown. You are the ones who are trespassing!” This rejoinder caused quite a stir, but not as big a commotion as when the queen warned: “And another thing. While we were immobile and you all blathered on in your sexist way, I had a personal awakening. From now on, I am going to dedicate my life to healing the rift between womyn’s souls and their bodies. I am going to teach womyn to accept their natural body images and become whole again. Snow White and I are going to build a womyn’s spa and conference center on this very spot, where we can hold retreats, caucuses, and ovariums for the sisters of the world.” There was much shouting and name-calling, but the queen eventually had her way. Before the Seven Towering Giants could be evicted from their home, though, they packed up their sweat lodge and moved deeper into the woods. The prince stayed on at the spa as a cute but harmless tennis pro. And Snow White and the queen became good friends and earned world-wide fame for their contributions to sisterhood. The giants were never heard from again, save for little muddy footprints that were sometimes found in the morning outside the windows of the spa’s locker room.
Chicken Belittle – On open mic night the Vicious Chicken Of Bristol makes derogatory jokes about all the other Nursery Tale characters…. and
about walruskkkch.
The Little Red Hen leads a revolution and forces all the other animals into a gulag where they labor 14 hours a day making bread for her and her offspring.
The little piggy who had none exacted his revenge. I’ll spare you the gruesome details, but he was heard shouting, “Who’s got none now, huh!”, and the last little piggy never did make it home..,
Jack and Jill is retold as a story of corporate greed where a downsize put pressure on their manager who has to decide whether to lay Jill or Jack off.
Once there were three little pigs who lived together in mutual respect and in harmony with their environment. Using materials that were indigenous to the area, they each built a beautiful house. One pig built a house of straw, one a house of sticks, and one a house of dung, clay, and creeper vines shaped into bricks and baked in a small kiln. When they were finished, the pigs were satisfied with their work and settled back to live in peace and self-determination. But their idyll was soon shattered. One day, along came a big, bad wolf with expansionist ideas. He saw the pigs and grew very hungry in both a physical and an ideological sense. When the pigs saw the wolf, they ran into the house of straw. The wolf ran up to the house and banged on the door, shouting, “Little pigs, little pigs, let me in!” The pigs shouted back, “Your gunboat tactics hold no fear for pigs defending their homes and culture.” However, the wolf wasn’t to be denied what he thought was his manifest destiny. So he huffed and puffed and blew down the house of straw. The frightened pigs ran to the house of sticks, with the wolf in hot pursuit. Where the house of straw had stood, other wolves bought up the land and started a banana plantation. At the house of sticks, the wolf again banged on the door and shouted, “Little pigs, little pigs, let me in!” The little pigs shouted back, “Go to hell, you carnivorous, imperialistic oppressor!” At this, the wolf chuckled condescendingly. He thought to himself: ”They are so childlike in their ways. It will be a shame to see them go, but progress cannot be stopped.” So the wolf huffed and puffed and blew down the house of sticks. The pigs ran to the house of bricks, with the wolf close at their heels. Where the house of sticks had stood, other wolves built a time-share condo resort complex for vacationing wolves, with each unit a fiberglass reconstruction of the house of sticks, as well as native curio shops, snorkeling, and dolphin shows. At the house of bricks, the wolf again banged on the door and shouted, “Little pigs, little pigs, let me in!” This time in response the little pigs sang songs of solidarity and wrote letters of protest to the United Nations. By now the wolf was getting angry at the pigs’ refusal to see the situation from the carnivore’s point of view. So he huffed and puffed, and huffed and puffed, then grabbed his chest and fell over dead of a massive heart attack brought on by eating too many fatty foods. The three little pigs rejoiced that justice had triumphed and did a little dance around the corpse of the wolf. Their next step was to liberate their homeland. They gathered together a band of other pigs who had been forced off their lands. This new brigade of porcinistas attacked the resort complex with machine guns and rocket launchers and slaughtered the cruel wolf oppressors, sending a clear signal to the rest of the hemisphere not to meddle in their internal affairs. Then the pigs set up a model socialist democracy with free education, universal health care, and affordable housing for everyone. Please note: The wolf in this story was a metaphorical construct. No actual wolves were harmed in the writing of this story.
Hansel and Gretel, being evil leftist whackos, birthed a child, named Greta. Greta glared at everyone and everything, but glared extra at the climate. And Donald Trump. Behind her mighty brow dwelled only hate. One day all the crops wilted and all the ice melted. Everyone starved, then they drowned. Except the leftists, high up on their horses. The next day Greta glared at the horses.
Obligatory — The Red Shoes 2: Electric Boogaloo
Maybe Ruby Slippers instead of Red Shoes.
Hansel and Gretel II: The Witches’ Revenge!
Hansel and Gretel is actually the story of a throuple gone bad.
So Barack Obama, pleased with his scandal-free 8 years in office, lived happily ever after. Until the Big Bad Barr found him…
The Eighth Dwarf, “Impeachy”. played by Jerry Nadler.
That’s no dwarf.
Yeah, you get wide enough and eventually it creates the illusion of being a dwarf instead of just being a slob.
That should read “Mental Midget”
“The Fox and the Rapes”
To be fair, I did say “Dark and Gritty.”
That’s probably not the worst of it.
And so, Joe Biden became the 46th President of the United States…
That is just too terrible to contemplate.
…and the American people lived unhappily ever after.
What Americans comrade?
What were Little Jack Horner and Little Miss Muffett REALLY doing off in the corner?
“He put in his thumb and pulled out a plum.” How about no?
“Rapunzel’s Quarantine”
There once lived an economically disadvantaged tinker and his wife. His lack of material accomplishment is not meant to imply that all tinkers are economically marginalized, or that if they are, they deserve to be so. While the archetype of the tinker is generally the whipping person in classical bedtime stories, this particular individual was a tinker by trade and just happened to be economically disadvantaged. The tinker and his wife lived in a little hovel next to the modest estate of a local witch. From their window, they could see the witch’s meticulously kept garden, a nauseating attempt to impose human notions of order onto Nature. The wife of the tinker was pregnant, and as she gazed at the witch’s garden, she began to crave some of the lettuce she saw growing there. She begged the tinker to jump the fence and get some for her. The tinker finally submitted, and at night he jumped the wall and liberated some of the lettuce. But before he could get back, the witch caught him. Now, this witch was very kindness-impaired. (This is not meant to imply that all, or even some, witches are that way, nor to deny this particular witch her right to express whatever disposition came naturally to her. Far from it, her disposition was without doubt due to many factors of her upbringing and socialization, which, unfortunately must be omitted here in the interest of brevity.) As mentioned earlier, the witch was kindness-impaired, and the tinker was extremely frightened. She held him by the scruff of the neck and asked, “Where are you going with my lettuce?” The tinker might have argued with her over the concept of ownership and stated that the lettuce rightfully “belonged” to anyone who was hungry and had nerve enough to take it. Instead, in a degrading spectacle, he pleaded for mercy. “It was my wife’s fault,” he cried in a characteristically male manner. “She is pregnant and has a craving for some of your lovely lettuce. Please spare me. Although a single-parent household is certainly acceptable, please don’t kill me and deprive my child of a stable, two-parent family structure.” The witch thought for a moment, then let go of the tinker’s neck and disappeared without a word. The tinker gratefully went home with the lettuce. A few months later, and after agonizing pain that a man will never really be able to appreciate, the tinker’s wife gave birth to a beautiful, healthy prewyman. They named the baby Rapunzel, after a type of lettuce. Not long after this, the witch appeared at their door, demanding that they give her the child in return for the witch’s having spared the tinker’s life in the garden. What could they do? Their powerless station in life had always left them open to exploitation, and this time they felt they had no alternative. They gave Rapunzel to the witch, who sped away. The witch took the child deep into the woods and imprisoned her in a tall tower, the symbolism of which should be obvious. There Rapunzel grew to wymanhood. The tower had no door or stairs, but it did boast a single window at the top. The only way for anyone to get to the window was for Rapunzel to let down her long, luxurious hair and climb it to the top, the symbolism of which should also be obvious. The witch was Rapunzel’s only companion. She would stand at the foot of the tower and shout, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, “That I might climb your golden stair.” Rapunzel obediently did as she was told. Thus for years she let her body be exploited for the transportational needs of another. The witch loved music and taught Rapunzel to sing. They passed many long hours singing together in the tower. One day a young prince rode near the tower and heard Rapunzel singing. But as he rode closer to find the source of the lovely sound, he spied the witch and hid himself and his equine companion in the trees. He watched as the witch called out to Rapunzel, the hair fell down, and the witch climbed up. Again, he heard the beautiful singing. Later, when the witch finally exited the tower and disappeared in the other direction, the prince came out of the woods and called up: “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair, “That I might climb your golden stair.” The hair cascaded from the window, and he climbed up. When the prince saw Rapunzel, her greater-than-average physical attractiveness and her long, luxurious hair led him to think, in a typically lookist way, that her personality would also be beautiful. (This is not to imply that all princes judge people solely on their appearance, nor to deny this particular prince his right to make such assumptions. Please see the disclaimers in the paragraphs above.) The prince said, “Oh, beautiful damsel, I heard you singing as I rode by on my horse. Please sing for me again.” Rapunzel didn’t know what to make of this person, since she had never seen a man up close before. He seemed a strange creature – large, hairy in the face, and possessing a strong, musky odor. For reasons she could not explain, Rapunzel found this combination somewhat attractive and opened her mouth to sing. “Stop right there!” screamed a voice from the window. The witch had returned! “How… how did you get up here?” Rapunzel asked. “I had an extra set of hair made, in case of emergency,” said the witch matter-of-factly. “And this certainly looks like one. Listen to me, Prince! I built this tower to keep Rapunzel away from men like you. I taught her to sing, training her voice for years. She’ll stay here and sing for no one but me, because I am the only one who truly loves her.” “We can talk about your codependency problems later,” said the prince. “But first let me hear… Rapunzel, is it? … let me hear Rapunzel sing.” “NO!” screamed the witch. “I’m going to throw you from the tower into the thorn-of-color bushes below so that your eyes will be gouged out and you’ll wander the countryside cursing your bad luck for the rest of your life!” “You may want to reconsider that,” said the prince. “I have some friends in the recording industry, you see, who would be very interested in … Rapunzel, wasn’t it? Different, kind of catchy, I suppose ….” “I knew it! You want to take her from me!” “No, no, I want you to continue to train her, to nurture her… as her manager,” said the prince. “Then, when the time is right, say a week or two, you can unleash her talent on the world and we can all rake in the cash.” The witch paused for a second to think about this, and her demeanor visibly softened. She and the prince began to discuss record contracts and video deals, as well as possible marketing ideas, including life-like Rapunzel™ dolls with their very own miniature stereo Tune-Towers™. As Rapunzel watched, her suspicions turned into revulsion. For years, her hair had been exploited for the transportational needs of others. Now they wanted to exploit her voice as well. “So, rapaciousness does not depend solely on gender,” she realized with a sigh. Rapunzel edged her way to the window without being seen. She stepped out and climbed down the second set of hair to the prince’s waiting horse. She dislodged the hair and took it with her as she rode off leaving the witch and the prince to argue about royalties and percentages in their phallusshaped tower. Rapunzel rode to the city and rented a room in a building that had real stairs. She later established the non-profit Foundation for the Free Proliferation of Music and cut off her hair for a fund-raising auction. She sang for free in coffee houses and art galleries for the rest of her days, always refusing to exploit for money other people’s desires to hear her sing.
That get’s bacon for sheer volume…
Nice! now do the screen play.
…they said all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put him back together, but nobody said anything about Victor Frankenstein:
Humpty Dumpty; Re-Animated and Angry
Oh I have to see this movie. Here’s my money.
The Revenge of Rumpelstiltskin —
Rumpelstiltskin returns with a new challenge: the princess’s newborn child will be taken if she cannot guess the angry gnome’s correct pronouns.
Red Riding Hood turns state’s witness and testifies against the Woodsman for his killing of an endangered species.
There was once a young person named Red Riding Hood who lived with her mother on the edge of a large wood.
One day her mother asked her to take a basket of fresh fruit and mineral water to her grandmother’s house – not because this was womyn’s work, mind you, but because the deed was generous and helped engender a feeling of community.
Furthermore, her grandmother was not sick, but rather was in full physical and mental health and was fully capable of taking care of herself as a mature adult.
So Red Riding Hood set off with her basket through the woods.
Many people believed that the forest was a foreboding and dangerous place and never set foot in it. Red Riding Hood, however, was confident enough in her own budding sexuality that such obvious Freudian imaginery did not intimidate her.
On the way to Grandma’s house, Red Riding Hood was accosted by a wolf, who asked her what was in her basket.
She replied, “Some healthful snacks for my grandmother, who is certainly capable of taking care of herself as a mature adult.”
The wolf said, “You know, my dear, it isn’t safe for a little girl to walk through these woods alone.”
Red Riding Hood said, “I find your sexist remark offensive in the extreme, but I will ignore it because of your traditional status as an outcast from society, the stress of which has caused you to develop your own, entirely valid, worldview. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be on my way.”
Red Riding Hood walked on along the main path.
But, because his status outside society has freed him from slavish adherence to linear, Western-style thought, the wolf knew a quicker route to Grandma’s house.
He burst into the house and ate Grandma, an entirely valid course of action for a carnivore such as himself.
Then, unhampered by rigid, traditionalist notions of what was masculine or feminine, he put on Grandma’s nightclothes and crawled into bed.
Red Riding Hood entered the cottage and said, “Grandma, I have brought you some fat-free, sodium-free snacks to salute you in your role of a wise and nurturing matriarch.”
From the bed, the wolf said softly, “Come closer, child, so that I might see you.”
Red Riding Hood said, “Oh, I forgot you are as optically challenged as a bat. Grandma, what big eyes you have!”
“They have seen much, and forgiven much, my dear.”
“Grandma, what a big nose you have – only relatively, of course, and certainly attractive in its own way.”
“It has smelled much, and forgiven much, my dear.”
“Grandma, what big teeth you have!”
The wolf said, “I am happy with who I am and what I am,” and leaped out of bed.
He grabbed Red Riding Hood in his claws, intent on devouring her.
Red Riding Hood screamed, not out of alarm at the wolf’s apparent tendency toward cross-dressing, but because of his willful invasion of her personal space.
Her screams were heard by a passing wood chopper-person (or log-fuel technician, as he preferred to be called). When he burst into the cottage, he saw the melee there and tried to intervene.
But as he raised his ax, Red Riding Hood and the wolf both stopped.
“And just what do you think you’re doing?” asked Red Riding Hood.
The wood chopper-person blinked and tried to answer, but no words came to him.
“Bursting in here like a Neanderthal, trusting your weapon to do your thinking for you!” she exclaimed.
“Sexist! Speciesist! How dare you assume that womyn and wolves can’t solve their own problems without a man’s help!”
When she heard Red Riding Hood’s impassioned speech, Grandma jumped out of the Wolf’s mouth, took the wood chopper-person’s ax, and cut his head off.
After this ordeal, Red Riding Hood, Grandma, and the Wolf felt a certain commonality of purpose. They decided to set up an alternative household based on mutual respect and cooperation and lived happily ever after.
Tales of Sleepy Joe Hollow
…The headless endorsed man
Guys, we’re trying to talk fiction here.
Snow White dumps the prince to rejoin her previous octagonal relationship…
Once there was a young princess who was not at all unpleasant to look at and had a temperament that many found to be more pleasant than most other people’s. Her nickname was Snow white, indicative of the discriminatory notions of associating pleasant or attractive qualities with light, and unpleasant or unattractive qualities with darkness. Thus, at an early age, Snow White was an unwitting if fortunate target for this type of colorist thinking. When Snow white was quite young, her mother was suddenly stricken ill, grew more advanced in nonhealth, and finally was rendered nonviable. Her father, the king, grieved for what can be considered a healthy period of time, then asked another wommon to be his queen. Snow white did her best to please her new mother-of-step, but a cold distance remained between them. The queen’s prized possession was a magic mirror that would answer truthfully any question asked it. Now years of social conditioning in a male hierarchical dictatorship had left the queen very insecure about her own self-worth. Physical beauty was the one standard she cared about now and she defined herself solely in regard to her personal appearance. So every morning the queen would ask her mirror: “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, “Who’s the fairest one of all?” Her mirror would answer: “For all it’s worth, O my queen, “Your beauty is the fairest to be seen.” That dialogue went on regularly until once when the queen was having a bad hair day and was desperately in need of support, she asked the usual question and the mirror answered: “Alas, if worth be based on beauty, “Snow White has surpassed you, cutie.” At this the queen flew into a rage. The chance to work with Snow White to form a strong bond of sisterhood had long passed. Instead, the queen indulged in an adopted masculine power trip and ordered the royal woodsperson to take Snow White into the forest and kill her. And, possibly to impress the males in the royal court, she barbarously ordered that the girl’s heart be cut out and brought back to her. The woodsperson sadly agreed to these orders, and led the girl, who was now actually a young wommon, into the middle of the forest. But his connections to the earth and seasons had made him a kind soul, and he couldn’t bear to harm the girl. He told Snow White of the oppressive and unsisterly order of the queen and told her to run as deeply as she could into the forest. The frightened Snow White did as she was told. The woodsperson, fearing the queen’s wrath but unwilling to take another life merely to indulge her vanity went into town and had the candy maker concoct a heart of red marzipan. When he presented this to the queen, she hungrily devoured the heart in a sickening display of pseudo-cannibalism. Meanwhile, Snow White ran deep into the woods. Just when she thought she had fled as far as she could from civilization and its unhealthy influences, she stumbled upon a cottage. Inside she saw seven tiny beds, set in a row and all unmade. She also saw seven sets of dishes piled high in the sink and seven Barcaloungers in front of seven remote-controlled TVs. She surmised that the cottage belonged to either seven little men or one sloppy numerologist. The beds looked so inviting that the tired youngster curled up on one and immediately fell asleep. When she awoke several hours later, she saw the faces of seven bearded, vertically challenged men surrounding the bed. She sat up with a start and gasped. One of the men said, “You see that? Just like a flighty woman: resting peacefully one minute, up and screaming the next.” “I agree,” said another. “She’ll disrupt our strong bond of brotherhood and create competition among us for her affections. I say we throw her in the river in a sack full of rocks.” “I agree we should get rid of her,” said a third, “but why degrade the ecology? Let’s just feed her to a bear or something and let her become part of the food chain.” “Hear, hear!” “Sound thinking, brother.” When Snow White finally regained her senses, she begged, “Please, please don’t kill me. I meant no harm by sleeping on your bed. I thought no one would ever notice.” “Ah, you see?” said one of the men. “Female preoccupations are already surfacing. She’s complaining that we don’t make our beds.” “Kill her! Kill her!” “Please, no!” she cried. “I have traveled so deep into these woods because my mother-of-step, the queen, ordered me killed.” “See that? Internecine female vindictiveness!” “Don’t try and play the victim with us, kid!” “QUIET!” boomed one of the men, who had flaming red hair and a nonhuman animal skin on his head. Snow White quickly realized that he was their leader and that her fate rested in his hands. “Explain yourself what’s your name, and why have you really come here?” “My name is Snow White,” she began, “and I’ve already told you: My mother-of-step, the queen, ordered a woodsperson to take me in the forest and kill me, but he took pity and told me to run away into the woods as far as I could.” “Just like a woman,” grumbled one of the men under his breath, “get a man to do her dirty work.” The leader held up his hands for silence. He said, “Well, Snow White, if that’s your story I guess we’ll have to believe you.” Snow White was beginning to resent her treatment but tried not to let it show. “And who are you guys, anyway?” “We are known as the Seven Towering Giants,” said the leader. Snow White’s suppression of a giggle did not go unnoticed. The leader continued. “We are towering in spirit and so are giants among the men of the forest. We used to earn our living by digging in our mines, but we decided that such a rape of the planet was immoral and short-sighted (besides, the bottom fell out of the metals market). So now we are dedicated stewards of the earth and live here in harmony with nature. To make ends meet, we also conduct retreats for men who need to get in touch with their primitive masculine identities.” “So what does that involve,” asked Snow White, “aside from drinking milk straight from the carton?” “Your sarcasm is ill-advised,” warned the leader of the Seven Towering Giants. “My fellow giants want to get rid of your corrupting feminine presence, and I might not be able to stop them, understand? My men, we must speak our hearts openly and honestly. Let us adjourn to the sweat lodge!” The seven little men scampered out the front door, whooping and stripping off their clothes. Snow White didn’t know what to do while waiting. For fear of stepping on anything that might be scurrying about amid the debris on the floor, she stayed on the bed, although she did manage to make it without ever stepping off. Snow White heard drumming and shouts, and, soon after, the Seven Towering Giants came back into the cottage. They didn’t smell as bad as she thought they would, and thankfully they all wore loincloths. “Agggh! Look what she’s done to my bed! I want her out of here! I want to change my vote!” “Calm down, brother,” said the leader. “Don’t you see? This is just what we were talking about: contrasts. We can better measure our progress as true men if there is a female around for comparison.” The men grumbled among themselves about the wisdom of this decision. But Snow White had had enough. “I resent being kept around like an object, just a yardstick for your egos and penises!” “Fair enough,” the leader said. “You’re free to make your way back through the woods. Give our regards to the queen.” “Well, I guess I can stay until I figure out a new plan,” she said. “Very well,” said the leader, “but we have a few ground rules. No dusting. No straightening up. And no rinsing out underwear in the sink.” “And no peeking in the sweat lodge.” “And stay away from our drums.” Meanwhile, back at the castle, the queen rejoiced at the thought that her rival in beauty had been eliminated. She puttered around her boudoir reading Glamour and Elle, and indulged herself with three whole pieces of chocolate without purging. Later, she confidently strolled up to her magic mirror and asked her same, sad question: “Mirror, mirror, on the wall, “Who’s the fairest one of all?” The mirror replied, “Your weight is perfect for your shape and height, “But for sheer OOOOMPH!, you can’t beat Snow White.” At this news, the queen clenched her fists and screamed at the top of her lungs. For years, her insecurities had been eating away at her until now they turned her into someone who was morally out of the mainstream. With cunning and malice, she began to devise a plan to ensure the nonviability of her daughter-of-step. A few days later, Snow White, to be sure she didn’t touch or rearrange anything, was meditating on the floor in the middle of the cottage. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Snow White opened the door to find a chronologically gifted woman with a basket in her hand. By the look of her clothes, she was apparently unfettered by the confines of regular employment. “Help a woman of unreliable income, dearie,” she said, “and buy one of my apples.” Snow White thought for a moment. In protest against agribusiness conglomerates, she had a personal rule against buying food from middlepersons. But her heart went out to the economically marginalized woman, so she said yes. What Snow White didn’t know was that this was really the queen in disguise and that the apple had been chemically and genetically altered so that whoever bit it would sleep forever. When Snow White handed over the money for the apple, you would have expected the queen to be gleeful that her plan for revenge was working. Instead, as she looked at Snow White’s fine complexion and slim, taut body, she felt alternating waves of envy and self-revulsion. Finally she burst into tears. “Why, whatever is the matter?” asked Snow White. “You’re so young and beautiful,” sobbed the disguised queen, “and I’m horrible to look at and getting worse.” “You shouldn’t say that. After all, beauty comes from inside a person.” “I’ve been telling myself that for years,” said the queen, “and I still don’t believe it. How do you stay in such perfect shape?” “Well, I meditate, work out in step aerobics three hours a day; and eat only half-portions of anything placed in front of me. Would you like me to show you?” “Oh, yes, yes, please,” said the queen. So they started out with 30 minutes of simple hatha yoga meditation, then worked out on the step for another hour. As they relaxed afterward, Snow White cut her apple in half and gave a piece to the queen. Without thinking, the queen bit into it, and both of them fell into a deep sleep. Later that day, the Seven Towering Giants returned from a retreat in the woods, elaborately decked out in animal skins, feathers, and mud. With them was a prince from a nearby kingdom, who had come on this male retreat to find a cure for his impotence (or, as he preferred to call it, his involuntary suspension from phallocentric activity). They were all laughing and high-fiving until they saw the bodies and stopped short. “What has happened?” asked the prince. “Apparently our house guest and this other woman got into some sort of catfight and killed each other,” surmised one giant. “If they thought that by doing this, they could make us slaves to our weaker emotions, they’re wrong,” fumed another. “Well, as long as we have to dispose of them, let’s practice one of those Viking funerals we’ve read about.” “You know” said the prince, “this might sound a little sick, but I trust you guys. I find that younger one attractive. Extremely attractive. Would you fellows mind… um… waiting outside while I…?” “Stop right there!” said the leader of the giants. “Those half-eaten apple pieces, that filthy costume – this has all the earmarks of some sort of magic spell. They’re not really dead at all.” “Whew,” sighed the prince, “that makes me feel better. So, could you guys take five and let me… ?” “Hold it, Prince,’ said the leader. “Does Snow White make you feel like a man again?” “She certainly does. Now could you guys… ?” “Don’t touch her! You’ll break the spell.” The leader thought for a minute and said, “My brothers, I see certain economic possibilities arising from this. If we kept Snow White around here in this state, we could advertise our retreats as impotency therapy.” The giants nodded in agreement with this idea, but the prince interrupted, “But what about me? I’ve already paid for my retreat. Why don’t I get to, um, take the cure?” “No dice, Prince,” said the leader. “You can look but don’t touch. Otherwise you’ll break the spell. Tell you what, though. You can have the other one if you want.” “I don’t want to sound classist,” said the prince, “but she’s not high enough caliber for me.” “That’s pretty big talk from a man shooting blanks,” said one of the giants, and everybody but the prince laughed. The leader said, “Come on, brothers, let’s lift these two off the floor and decide how we can best display them.” It took three giants for each female, but they managed to get both bodies aloft. As soon as they did, however, the pieces of poisoned apple fell from the mouths of Snow White and the queen, and they awoke from the spell. “What do you think you’re doing? Put us down!” they shouted. The giants were so startled they almost dropped the womyn to the floor. “That was the most sickening thing I have ever heard!” shouted the queen. “Offering us around like pieces of property!” “And you,” said Snow White to the prince, “trying to make it with a girl in a coma! Yuck!” “Hey, don’t blame me,” said the prince. “It’s a medical condition.” The leader of the giants said, “Don’t start tossing blame around. You both broke into our property in the first place. I can call the police!” “Don’t try it, Napoleon,” said the queen. “This forest is property of the crown. You are the ones who are trespassing!” This rejoinder caused quite a stir, but not as big a commotion as when the queen warned: “And another thing. While we were immobile and you all blathered on in your sexist way, I had a personal awakening. From now on, I am going to dedicate my life to healing the rift between womyn’s souls and their bodies. I am going to teach womyn to accept their natural body images and become whole again. Snow White and I are going to build a womyn’s spa and conference center on this very spot, where we can hold retreats, caucuses, and ovariums for the sisters of the world.” There was much shouting and name-calling, but the queen eventually had her way. Before the Seven Towering Giants could be evicted from their home, though, they packed up their sweat lodge and moved deeper into the woods. The prince stayed on at the spa as a cute but harmless tennis pro. And Snow White and the queen became good friends and earned world-wide fame for their contributions to sisterhood. The giants were never heard from again, save for little muddy footprints that were sometimes found in the morning outside the windows of the spa’s locker room.
If we’re talking about fairy tales, can we include The Life and Times of Mayor Pete?
…in this version someone slips a depilatory into Rapunzel’s shampoo.
Up until that point, Joe Biden thought he’d died and gone to heaven.
…The three little smoked hams
This is bacon….LITERALLY!!!
Chicken Belittle – On open mic night the Vicious Chicken Of Bristol makes derogatory jokes about all the other Nursery Tale characters…. and
about walruskkkch.
Are you telling me that Walruskkkch isn’t a nursery rhyme character?
Smile when you say that you dog faced pony soldier!
Walrus is Joe Biden?
We’re as close as can be man.
Both a little long in the tooth.
Listen Fat, it’s the… the thing, you know?
DamnCat N Boots – ’nuff said.
The Little Red Hen leads a revolution and forces all the other animals into a gulag where they labor 14 hours a day making bread for her and her offspring.
If she’s a Rhode Island Red, she has her state police pull over anyone with New York plates.
…and who can blame her?
Peter Cottontail has an unfortunate run-in with Alex Forrest…
Alice learns that all of her fantastic experiences were induced by her controllers at MK-ULTRA…
Chicken Little goes to the bar, and finds himself surrounded by only Heifers and Holsteins, only to discover he’d inadvertantly gone into a Hay Bar.
Would he have to cross the road to get there?
Pinocchio becomes so famous for his prevarication that he is elected to congress as a Democrat and assumes chairmanship of the Judiciary Committee.
…until he meets Nancy Pelosi who unlocks his secret superhero identity…. Gavel Boy.
(she unlocks it by banging him)
I’m afraid even a wooden boy could not be “up” to that challenge.
The little piggy who had none exacted his revenge. I’ll spare you the gruesome details, but he was heard shouting, “Who’s got none now, huh!”, and the last little piggy never did make it home..,
Little Gretel Thunberg shatters poor Hansel’s ear drums.
And when the boy cried “wolf!” again, all the neighbors ran home to get their N95 face masks.
After buying all the TP in the grocery store.
Jack and Jill is retold as a story of corporate greed where a downsize put pressure on their manager who has to decide whether to lay Jill or Jack off.
It’s up to the Hill.
Interesting choice.
I prefer the former to the latter.
The Three Little Pigs are slum lords and the wolf is an alcoholic, over the hill lawyer that gets pulled into representing the tenants.
Once there were three little pigs who lived together in mutual respect and in harmony with their environment. Using materials that were indigenous to the area, they each built a beautiful house. One pig built a house of straw, one a house of sticks, and one a house of dung, clay, and creeper vines shaped into bricks and baked in a small kiln. When they were finished, the pigs were satisfied with their work and settled back to live in peace and self-determination. But their idyll was soon shattered. One day, along came a big, bad wolf with expansionist ideas. He saw the pigs and grew very hungry in both a physical and an ideological sense. When the pigs saw the wolf, they ran into the house of straw. The wolf ran up to the house and banged on the door, shouting, “Little pigs, little pigs, let me in!” The pigs shouted back, “Your gunboat tactics hold no fear for pigs defending their homes and culture.” However, the wolf wasn’t to be denied what he thought was his manifest destiny. So he huffed and puffed and blew down the house of straw. The frightened pigs ran to the house of sticks, with the wolf in hot pursuit. Where the house of straw had stood, other wolves bought up the land and started a banana plantation. At the house of sticks, the wolf again banged on the door and shouted, “Little pigs, little pigs, let me in!” The little pigs shouted back, “Go to hell, you carnivorous, imperialistic oppressor!” At this, the wolf chuckled condescendingly. He thought to himself: ”They are so childlike in their ways. It will be a shame to see them go, but progress cannot be stopped.” So the wolf huffed and puffed and blew down the house of sticks. The pigs ran to the house of bricks, with the wolf close at their heels. Where the house of sticks had stood, other wolves built a time-share condo resort complex for vacationing wolves, with each unit a fiberglass reconstruction of the house of sticks, as well as native curio shops, snorkeling, and dolphin shows. At the house of bricks, the wolf again banged on the door and shouted, “Little pigs, little pigs, let me in!” This time in response the little pigs sang songs of solidarity and wrote letters of protest to the United Nations. By now the wolf was getting angry at the pigs’ refusal to see the situation from the carnivore’s point of view. So he huffed and puffed, and huffed and puffed, then grabbed his chest and fell over dead of a massive heart attack brought on by eating too many fatty foods. The three little pigs rejoiced that justice had triumphed and did a little dance around the corpse of the wolf. Their next step was to liberate their homeland. They gathered together a band of other pigs who had been forced off their lands. This new brigade of porcinistas attacked the resort complex with machine guns and rocket launchers and slaughtered the cruel wolf oppressors, sending a clear signal to the rest of the hemisphere not to meddle in their internal affairs. Then the pigs set up a model socialist democracy with free education, universal health care, and affordable housing for everyone. Please note: The wolf in this story was a metaphorical construct. No actual wolves were harmed in the writing of this story.
Sleeping Beauty becomes Ruler after the prince and his parents drink fish tank cleaner.
The dark and gritty sequels to nursery tales: …
Old woman who lived in a shoe… Now can afford better footwear since discovering Planned Parethood.
She’s under Federal investigation for violation of NCAA rules regarding endorsements.
Jack and Jill went up the hill and Epstein himself didn’t kill. The end.
Mary had a little lamb,
Thinking it was chicken.
Horrified she realized
‘Twas Fluffy’s bones that she’d been lickin’.
Mary had a little lamb
It’s fleece was soft and shiny,
but adding some peanut butter
taught it to lick her ….
Mary had a little lamb
A lot of toast, a lot of jam
The mailman’s liver with fava beans
A nice Chianti, not too extreme
Prince Charming gets in touch with his feminine side and then can’t stop touching it.
Fractured Fairytales were only broadcast because of the threat of real fractures, from badass Edward Everett Horton..,
Hansel and Gretel, being evil leftist whackos, birthed a child, named Greta. Greta glared at everyone and everything, but glared extra at the climate. And Donald Trump. Behind her mighty brow dwelled only hate. One day all the crops wilted and all the ice melted. Everyone starved, then they drowned. Except the leftists, high up on their horses. The next day Greta glared at the horses.