The Star Talers
adapted from the story by the Grimm Brothers (from the English translations by Margaret Hunt)
There was once upon a time a boy whose father and mother were dead, and he was so poor that he no longer had a room to live in, or bed to sleep in, and at last he had nothing else but the clothes he was wearing and a piece of cheese and onion quiche in his hand which some charitable soul had given him. The boy, whose name was Theodoric (though this isn't important) was good and pious, however. And as he was thus forsaken by all the world, he went forth into the open country, trusting solely in Fate.
Then a poor man with a long beard reaching right down to his feet met him, who said, "Ah, give me something to eat, I am so hungry."
The boy handed him the whole of his quiche, and said, "May God bless you," and went onwards, though his own stomach rumbled with emptiness.
Then came a child with an icicle on the end of his nose which reached right down to his feet, who moaned and said, "My head is so cold, give me something to cover it with."
So the boy took off his basket ball cap and gave it to him and the wind whistled round his own ears and made them red.
And when he had walked a little farther, he met another child who had no jacket and was frozen with cold and whose nipples were blue and almost turned inside out.
Then he gave it his own, and a little farther on one begged for his pair of jeans, and he gave away those also though his own knees were chapped.
At length he got into a forest and it had already become dark, and there came yet another child, and asked for a shirt, and the good little boy thought to himself, "It is a dark night and no one can see me, I can very well give my shirt away," and took it off, and gave away that also.
And as he so stood, and had not one single thing left, naked as the day he was born, the moon came out and suddenly he was surrounded by a group of men who offered him money if he would do certain things with them. Then the boy said to himself, "Sod this pious life for a lark, all I got for it was hunger and cold. I'll do what they want and enjoy it."
So he did, and it wasn't all that bad anyway. It certainly beat being hungry and cold.
And he was rich all the rest of the days of his life, or at least until he lost his youth and beauty.
words: 452
Rumpledforeskin
adapted from a story by the Grimm Brothers
Once upon a time when blue moons were more common than there are today, there was a miller who was poor, but who had a good-looking son. Now it happened that the miller had to go and speak to the king of the country on a business matter, and in order to make himself appear important he said to him, "I have a son who can spin beautifully."
The king said," Hmmm, sounds a rather girlie occupation for a boy."
And the miller, who was stupid but still wanted to impress, said," But, your Majesty, he can spin straw into gold."
The king, who was greedy, said to the miller, "That is an art which pleases me well, if your son is as clever as you say, bring him tomorrow to my palace, and I will put him to the test." You will note that most of the characters in this story are either stupid or greedy - even the hero should have had more sense. A real hero would have run off to the big city to seek his fortune rather than rely on his idiotic parent.
However when the boy was brought to the palace, the king took him into a room which was quite full of straw, gave him a spinning-wheel and a reel, and said, "Now set to work, and if by tomorrow morning early you have not spun this straw into gold during the night, you must die." Thereupon he himself locked up the room, and left the boy in it alone.
So there sat the poor miller's son, and for the life of him could not tell what to do, for he had no idea how straw could be spun into gold, and he grew more and more frightened, until at last he began to weep. See what I mean about being less than heroic?
But all at once the door opened, and in came an ugly little man with a crooked nose and legs which were so bowed you could have run a pig through them. There's no political correctness about this story - but then that's the fairy story tradition. The man said, "Good evening, handsome youth, why are you crying so." What a dreadful pickup line, but that's how they talk in fairy stories.
"Alas," answered the boy, "I have to spin straw into gold, and I do not know how to do it."
"Will you give me a kiss," said the manikin, "if I do it for you?"
Now, as I have said, the man was monstrous ugly but the boy reasoned. If this will save my life, I can at least shut my eyes and imagine that perhaps I'm kissing the Love of my Life (whoever that might be). So he said, "OK."
The little man locked on to the boy's lips and gave him a long, passionate kiss - tongue and all, and the boy had to use all his imagination not to shudder, but at last it was over and the man seated himself in front of the wheel, and whirr, whirr, whirr, three turns, and the reel was full, then he put another on, and whirr, whirr, whirr, three times round, and the second was full too. And so it went on until the morning, when all the straw was spun, and all the reels were full of gold.
By daybreak the king was already there, and when he saw the gold he was astonished and delighted, but his heart became only more greedy. He had the miller's son taken into another room full of straw, which was much larger, and commanded him to spin that also in one night if he valued his life.
The boy knew not how to help himself, and burst into tears again, (What a cry-baby!) when the door opened again, and the little man appeared, and said, "Oh dear, you are in a pickle. Tell you what, will you let me give you a blow-job if I spin that straw into gold for you?"
Well, thought the boy, I can always imagine it's the Love of my Life (whoever that might be), so he said, "OK."
The little man undid the boy's hose, took out his schlong and fastened his jaded old mouth around it. Hours, it seemed, later, the man was satisfied and again began to turn the wheel, and by morning had spun all the straw into glittering gold.
The king rejoiced beyond measure at the sight, but still he had not gold enough, So, (yes, you guessed it, for these things always happen in threes) he had the miller's son taken into a still larger room full of straw, and said, "You must spin this, too, in the course of this night, but if you succeed, I'll make you a prince and my heir so that after my death you will become King."
Even if he be but a miller's son, thought the King, I could not find a richer or more useful heir in the whole world.
When the boy was alone the manikin came again for the third time, and said, "What will you let me do if I spin the straw for you this time also?"
"I have nothing left that I could give," answered the boy - who was intent on saving his cherry for the Love of his Life (whoever that might be). . "Then promise me, if you should become Prince, you'll let me have your cherry."
"Who knows whether that will ever happen," thought the miller's son, and, not knowing how else to help himself in this dire strait, he promised the manikin what he wanted, and on the strength of that the old man once more spun the straw into gold.
And when the king came in the morning, and found all as he had wished, he ordered a huge and elaborate ceremony and created the miller's son a Prince and his heir (though from the way the boy behaved it might be more appropriate that he named him his queen.) . A year later, the Prince was enjoying his new life and had started to think about finding the Love of his Life (whoever that might be) when suddenly the ugly little man (bow legs and all) came into his room, and said, "Now give me what you promised."
The Prince was horror-struck, (for he was saving his cherry for you-know-who) and offered the manikin all the riches of the kingdom if he would leave him alone. But the manikin said, "No, that thing is dearer to me than all the treasures in the world." (He really ought to get a sense of proportion!)
Then the Prince began to lament and cry, so that the manikin pitied him. "I will give you three days," said he, "if by that time you find out my name, then shall you keep your cherry and I will leave you for ever."
So the Prince (who was formerly the miller's son. That's for those who haven't really been attending.) thought the whole night of all the names that he had ever heard, and he sent a messenger over the country to inquire, far and wide, for any other names that there might be.
When the manikin came the next day, he began with Caspar, Melchior, Balthazar, and said all the names he knew from Asam to Zacchariah, one after another, but to every one the little man said, "That is not my name."
On the second day the Prince had inquiries made in the neighbourhood as to the names of the people there, and he repeated to the manikin the most uncommon and curious, "Perhaps your name is Shortribs, or Sheepshanks, or Laceleg," but he always answered, "That is not my name."
On the third day the messenger came back again, and said, "I have not been able to find a single new name, but as I came to a high mountain at the end of the forest, where the fox and the hare bid each other good night, there I saw a little house, and before the house a fire was burning, and round about the fire quite a ridiculous little man was jumping, he hopped upon one leg, and shouted -
'Today I bake, tomorrow brew, The next I'll have the Prince's ring. Ha, glad am I that no one knew That Rumpledforeskin I am styled.'" (He may have been something of a magician but as you can see he was a rotten poet.)
You may imagine how glad the Prince was when he heard the name. And when soon afterwards the little man came in, and asked, "Now, noble Prince, what is my name?"
At first he said, "Is your name Piddletrenthyde?"
"No."
"Is your name Bootlebumtrinket?"
"No." And the little man began to jump up and down in his excitement and there grew in his pantaloons an enormous shape for he was horny as hell.
So the Prince said, "Perhaps your name is Rumpledforeskin?"
The little man let out an enormous yell. "The devil has told you that! The devil has told you that," he shrieked, and in his anger he plunged his right foot so deep into the earth that his whole leg went in, and then in rage he pulled at his left leg so hard with both hands that he tore himself in two which, not surprisingly, was the end of him.
So the Prince lived happily ever after and eventually found the Love of his Life (but that, as they say, is another story).
words: 1576
Little Guy in the Red Hat
adapted from the story 'Little Red Riding Hood' by the Grimm Brothers
Once upon a time there was a dear little boy who was loved by everyone who looked at him, but most of all by his grandmother, and there was nothing that she would not have given to the child. Once she gave him a little cap of red velvet, which suited him so well that he would never wear anything else. So he was always called Little Guy in the Red Hat (though to be strictly accurate he wasn't all that little, especially in the groin department). Of course treating him in this way, wasn't all that good for him and some people looked at him a bit askance as he minced along in his red velvet hat.
One day his mother said to him, "Come, Little Guy in the Red Hat, here is a piece of fruit cake and a bottle of wine. Take them to your grandmother, she is ill and weak, and they will do her good. Set out before it gets hot, and when you are going, walk nicely and quietly and do not run off the path, or you may fall and break the bottle, and then your grandmother will get nothing. And when you go into her room, don't forget to say, good-morning, and don't peep into every corner before you do it." What advice to give to a growing boy - but then, as I told you, his upbringing was not of the most sensible.
"OK, mum," said Little Guy in the Red Hat to his mother. But he picked out a raisin from the cake and ate it as he went along. (If you think this is significant, then I'm afraid you'll be disappointed.)
The grandmother lived out in the wood, half a league from the village, and just as Little Guy in the Red Hat entered the wood, a wolf met him. He was tall and he walked with a sort of louche grace and sported a moustache. Anyone else would have been very suspicious but Little Guy in the Red Hat did not know what a wicked creature he was, and was not at all afraid of him.
"Good-day, Little Guy in the Red Hat," said the wolf.
"Thank you kindly, sir."
"Whither away so early, Little Guy in the Red Hat?"
"To my grandmother's cottage in the woods."
"What have you got in your shoulder bag?" Carrying a shoulder bag was another habit of Little Guy in the Red Hat which was to be deprecated but it was in fact useful to carry the cake and wine in.
"Cake and wine. Yesterday was baking-day, so poor sick grandmother is to have something good, to make her stronger."
"Where does your grandmother live, Little Guy in the Red Hat?"
"A good quarter of a league farther on in the wood. Her house stands under the three large oak-trees, the nut-trees are just below. You surely must know it," replied Little Guy in the Red Hat.
The wolf thought to himself, "What a tender young creature. And I can see from the shape in his jeans he'll be a nice plump mouthful, he will be better to eat than the old woman. I must act craftily, so as to catch both." So he walked for a short time by the side of Little Guy in the Red Hat, and then he said, "See Little Guy in the Red Hat, how pretty the flowers are about here. Why do you not look round? I believe, too, that you do not hear how sweetly the little birds are singing. You walk gravely along as if you were going to school, while everything else out here in the wood is gay." Now that should have given Little Guy in the Red Hat a big hint, but he was very innocent.
And a normal guy would have told the wolf to piss off, that he wasn't interested in the pretty flowers and the little birds, but, as I said Little Guy in the Red Hat was a bit, well, you know, like that. . .
Little Guy in the Red Hat raised his eyes, and when he saw the sunbeams dancing here and there through the trees, and pretty flowers growing everywhere, he thought, suppose I take grandmother a fresh nosegay. That would please her too. It is so early in the day that I shall still get there in good time. And so he ran from the path into the wood to look for flowers. And whenever he had picked one, he fancied that he saw a still prettier one farther on, and ran after it, and so got deeper and deeper into the wood.
Sickening isn't it? Sunbeams, flowers, nosegays! The little prick deserves everything he gets and we'll soon see what that is. You think you've guessed? We shall see.
Meanwhile the wolf ran straight to his grandmother's house and knocked at the door.
"Who is there?"
"Little Guy in the Red Hat," replied the wolf in a high-pitched falsetto which would have fooled no one except a half deaf old woman who'd been at the gin and bitters all morning. "I am bringing cake and wine. Open the door."
"Lift the latch," called out the grandmother, "I am too weak, and cannot get up."
The wolf lifted the latch, the door sprang open, and without saying a word he went straight to the grandmother's bed, and turned her out into the woods, first stripping off her clothes. She was so terrified she raced away and was soon lost to view. Then he put on her clothes, dressed himself in her cap, laid himself in bed and drew the curtains.
Little Guy in the Red Hat, however, had been running about picking flowers, and when he had gathered so many that he could carry no more, he remembered his grandmother, and set out on the way to her.
He was surprised to find the cottage-door standing open, and when he went into the room, he had such a strange feeling that he said to herself, oh dear, how uneasy I feel today, and at other times I like being with grandmother so much. There's a curious sexual ambivalence in the room. (Now this suggests that perhaps he wasn't as innocent as he has been portrayed so far.)
He called out, "Good morning," but received no answer. So he went to the bed and drew back the curtains. There lay his grandmother with her cap pulled far over her face, and looking very unfamiliar.
"Oh, grandmother," he said, "what big ears you have."
"The better to hear you with, my child," was the reply.
Little Guy in the Red Hat stroked them and felt the soft fur tremble. Careful, big boy!
"But, grandmother, what big eyes you have," he said.
"The better to see you with, my dear."
The eyes were brown and glistened with a strange intensity, so different from his gran's usual tiny grey ones in their wrinkled sockets.
"But, grandmother, what large hands you have."
"The better to hug you with."
And he put out one and clasped Little Guy in the Red Hat round the waist, though it did slip a little and seemed to end up on his buttocks where it fondled the soft plumpness.
"Ooooh, but, grandmother, what a terrible big mouth you have."
"The better to eat you with."
And scarcely had the wolf said this, than with one bound he was out of bed and ripped off Little Guy in the Red Hat's trousers and tender white underwear and his terrible big mouth took hold of what was inside and began to taste and slaver, and chew, and relish so that LGRH (work it out) was soon moaning and sobbing with feelings he'd never experienced before.
"Oh, grandmother, what a big willy you have."
"All the better to give you the biggest and best shafting you've ever experienced." And he turned him over and gave him what for until LG lost his RH. and lost his heart to the wolf.
So the two of them set up in Grandmother's little cottage in the woods and lived happily ever afterwards.
As for grandmother herself. As she went racing through the woods, she was seen by a huntsman who, only seeing flashes of white through the trees, thought she was a deer and shot her dead.
Oh well, Not everyone has a happy ending!
words: 1394
Michael
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