Politically Correct Fairy Tales

Anna · 2 авг 2005

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Rumplestiltskin

Long ago in a kingdom far away, there lived a miller who was very economically disadvantaged. This miller shared his humble dwelling with his only daughter, an independent young woman named Esmeralda. Now, the miller was very ashamed of his poverty, rather than angry at the economic system that had marginalised him, and was always searching for a way to get rich quick.
"If only I could get my daughter to marry a rich man," he mused, in a sexist and archaic way, "she'll be fulfilled and I'll never have to work another day in my life." To this shabby end, he had an inspiration. He would start a rumour that his daughter was able to spin common barnyard straw into pure gold. With this untruth, he would be able to attract the attention of many rich men and marry off Esmeralda.
The rumour spread through the kingdom in a manner that just happened to be like wildfire and soon reached the prince. As greedy and gullible as most men of his station, he believed the rumour and invited Esmeralda to his castle for a May Day festival. But when she arrived, he had her thrown into a dungeon filled with straw and ordered her to spin it into gold.
Locked in the dungeon, fearing for her life, Esmeralda sat on the floor and wept. Never had the exploitativeness of the patriarchy been made so apparent to her. As she cried, a diminutive man in a funny hat appeared in the dungeon.
"Why are you crying, my dear?" he asked.
Esmeralda was startled but answered him: "The prince has ordered me to spin all this straw into gold."
"But why are you crying?" he asked again.
"Because it can't be done. What are you, specially abled or something?"
The differently statured man laughed and said, "Dearie, you are thinking too much with the left side of your brain, you are. But you are in luck. I will show you how to perform this task, yes, but first you must promise to give me what I want in return."
With no alternative, Esmeralda gave her assent. To turn the straw into gold, they took it to a nearby farmers' co-operative, where it was used to thatch an old roof. With a drier home, the farmers became healthier and more productive, and they brought forth a record harvest of wheat for local consumption. The children of the kingdom grew strong and tall, went to a co-operative school, and gradually turned the kingdom into a model democracy with no economic or sexual injustice and low infant mortality rates. For his part, the prince was captured by an angry mob and stabbed to death with pitchforks outside the palace. As new investment money poured in from all over the world, the farmers remembered Esmeralda's generous gift of straw and rewarded her with numerous chests of gold.
When all this was done, the diminutive man in the funny hat laughed and said, "That is how you turn straw into gold." Then his expression became menacing. "Now that I have done my work, you must fulfil your part of the bargain. You must give me your first-born child!"
Esmeralda shot back at him, "I don't have to negotiate with anyone who would interfere with my reproductive rights!"
The vertically challenged man was taken aback by the conviction in her voice. Deciding on a change in tactics, he said slyly, "Fair enough, dearie. I'll let you out of the bargain if you can guess what my name is."
"All right," said Esmeralda. She paused a second, tapped her chin with her finger, and said, "Would your name be ... oh, I don't know, maybe . . . Rumpelstiltskin?"
"AAAAAKKKK!!" shrieked the man of non-standard height. "But. . . but. . . how did you know?"
She replied, "You are still wearing your name badge from the Little People's Empowerment Seminar."
Rumpelstiltskin screamed in anger and stamped his foot, at which point the earth cracked open and swallowed him up in a rush of smoke and sulphur. With her gold, Esmeralda moved to California to open a birth-control clinic, where she showed other women how not to be enslaved by their reproductive systems and lived to the end of her days as a fulfilled, dedicated single person.

The 3 Little Pigs

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."
But 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 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 fibreglass reconstruction of the house of sticks, as well as native curio shops, snorkelling, 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 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 from a massive heart attack brought on from 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 porkanistas 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.

Little Red Riding Hood

There once was 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 woman'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 imagery 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 had 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 night-clothes 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 wilful invasion of her personal space.
Her screams were heard by a passing woodchopper-person (or log-fuel technician, as he preferred to be called). When he burst into the cottage, he saw the melee and tried to intervene. But as he raised his axe, Red Riding Hood and the wolf both stopped.
"And just what do you think you're doing?" asked Red Riding Hood.
The woodchopper-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! Specialist! How dare you assume that women 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, seized the woodchopper-person's axe, 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 co-operation, and they lived together in the woods happily ever after.

Hansel And Gretel

Deep in a forested bioregion stood a small, humble chalet, and in that chalet lived a small, humble family. The father was a tree butcher by trade, and he was doing his best to raise his two pre-adults named Hansel and Gretel.
The family tried to maintain a healthy and conscientious lifestyle, but the demands of the capitalist system, especially its irresponsible energy policies, worked ceaselessly to smother them. Soon they were at a complete economic disadvantage and found themselves unable to live in the style to which they had become accustomed, paltry though it may have been. With the
little money that was coming in, there was not enough to feed them all.
So, regretfully, the tree butcher was forced to devise a plan to be rid of his children. He decided to take them deep into the woods as he went about his daily work and then abandon them there. It was a sad commentary on the plight of single-parent households, but he could see no alternative.
When the father discussed this plan on the phone with his analyst, Hansel overheard the conversation. Instead of alerting the proper authorities, Hansel came up with a plan for protecting himself and his sibling. The next morning, the tree butcher packed them all sensible, nutritious lunches in reusable containers and they set off Hansel, however, had filled his pockets with granola, and as they walked deeper and deeper into the woods, he dropped large chunks of it on the path to mark the way.
At a clearing deep in the woods, the tree butcher finally stopped and said to Hansel and Gretel, "You pre-adults wait here. I'm going to look for some trees to harvest, and maybe explore my primitive masculine psyche against the backdrop of nature, if I have time. I'll be back before too long." He handed the children their lunches and walked off.
After morning had turned into afternoon and afternoon into evening, Hansel told his sister their father's plan to abandon them. Gretel, always level-headed and practical in such situations, suggested they collect materials for a lean-to shelter, as they'd learned in their Outward Bound Aboriginal Survival Techniques class.
"No need," said Hansel. "I've left us a trail to follow back, without even littering or defacing a single tree." But when they went to find the trail, they discovered a cadre of survivalists busily eating up the granola. The survivalists screamed at the children to get away from their new-found rations and, after firing a few warning shots in the air, disappeared into the woods.
Hansel and Gretel wandered along different trails, but after some time they became hopelessly lost and very hungry. Then, around a sharp bend in their path, they came upon a wondrous cottage made of carob brownies, sugarless gingerbread, and carrot cake. Even without a reassuring PDA label, the cottage looked so good that the children dived at it and began to devour it.
Suddenly, a woman in her golden years (actually, quite past them) emerged from the cottage. The
many bangles on her wrists and ankles clattered as she moved, and she gave off the aroma of patchouli, burnt sage, and clove cigarettes. The children were startled. Hansel asked, "Please forgive my bluntness, but are you a wicked witch?"
The woman laughed. "No, no, my dear. I'm not a witch, I'm a Wiccan. I'm no more evil than anyone else, and I certainly don't eat little pre-adults, like all the rumours would have you believe. I worship nature and the Goddess, and mix herbs and natural potions to help people. Really. Now why don't you both come in for a nice cup of coltsfoot tea?"
Inside the functional yet edible cottage, the Wiccan advised the children to forget the propaganda and slander that had been spread about persons like her. She told them stories about her life in the forest, making potions, casting spells, communing with non-human animals, and healing the many wounds inflicted on Mother Earth. It took some time for Hansel and Gretel to free their minds from the stereotype of a green-skinned, temporally advanced crone in a pointy black hat. (Ironically, the Wiccan did have a long warty nose that resembled a mouldy cucumber, but the children were too polite to ask about it.)
They were finally convinced of the Wiccan's sincerity when they met her neighbours and kinsfolk. To welcome the children, these gentle people held a gathering that night in the moonlight, in which they stripped off all their clothes, rubbed mud on each other, and danced in a circle to the sound of ocarinas and panpipes. It was an inspiring sight, and it felt so right and natural that Hansel and Gretel decided then and there to give up their old lives and join the forest people.
Over time, Hansel and Gretel came to love the Wiccan and their lives in the forest. As they grew older and more empowered, they began to assert their bonds with Mother Earth in more direct and tangible ways. With courage and vigour, they planned and engaged in many deep ecology actions to protect their arboreal home. Hansel and Gretel merrily spiked trees, monkey-wrenched mining and bulldozing equipment, and blew up power plants and electrical lines that stretched over nearby farmland with explosives made from all-natural ingredients. They even learned 15 completely organic remedies for powder burns.
They were very content and self-fulfilled protecting their adopted habitat until one day terrible news
came. A huge multinational paper conglomerate had purchased their entire forest, intent on turning it all into wood pulp. Hansel, Gretel, the Wiccan, and all their compadres and comrades geared up for the confrontation of their lives. The eco-defenders gathered up their wrenches and their plastique, their picket signs and their panpipes, and started off for the headquarters of the conglomerate, alerting the media along the way that they were ready to defend Our Mother to the very last person.
Hansel, Gretel, and the Wiccan marched at the head of the crowd, chanting and swaying and itching for a fight. As the headquarters of the paper company came into view, the two siblings saw something about it that was very familiar. The huge plant and building complex took up nearly four acres of land, but on the circular driveway, smack in the middle of the main entrance, sat a small, humble chalet. It was in fact their childhood home, squatting like a hermit's shack in front of the sleek steel and glass facade of the HQ.
Just as the brother and sister were beginning to digest this, the small wooden door of the shack opened and out stepped their father, the tree butcher. He was dressed in an Armani suit with Italian loafers, and on either side of him crowded a phalanx of lawyers. It was obvious that the woodperson had done OK for himself.
"Well, well," said the father, "the wheel of fate spins round again. Good to see you again, Hansel and Gretel."
"Please, don't call us that," said his biological but not spiritual son. "We have changed our names to symbolise the birth of our new consciousness and to separate ourselves from our heartless, exploitative upbringing. From now on, you may call me Heathdweller."
"And my name is Gaia," said his sister.
"Change your names to Thumper and Bambi, for all I care," their father laughed. "You people are still going to have to relocate from the forest. We've made a deal with a nice trailer park down by the Interstate for you, and hired a relocation counselling firm to help "
The Wiccan cut him off. "Death to the rapers of Earth! Death to the rapers of Earth!" she screamed, and the rest of the crowd picked up her chant.
"No need to get personal," the father muttered. He moved to calm the crowd. "All right, all right. We'd like to meet with your spokesman "
"Spokeswoman!" insisted one protester.
"Spokesperson!" shouted another.
A lawyer whispered into the father's ear. "We'd like to meet with your person. of spoke," the father said finally, "the Wiccan."
Amid shouts of encouragement the Wiccan raised her fist and walked into the building with the suits. The ecoteurs were very happy and confident because they placed their complete trust in the Wiccan. She would never back down in the face of these planet ravishers. To celebrate, they formed a prayer circle in the parking lot and began to dance.
The sound of ocarinas and panpipes was still in the air when the negotiators re-emerged from the building. The father and the lawyers were smiling, while the Wiccan had a more sheepish expression, although it is an insult to sheep to imply that they could ever look so guilty.
Gaia, nee Gretel, immediately sensed that something in the established order of things had changed. "What's happened?" she insisted. "What went on in there?"
"A prominent member of your group has decided to wake up and face reality," said her father. "The Wiccan has agreed to join our senior staff, as our new Vice President of Holistic and Spiritual Wellness, Mother Earth Division."
An involuntary gasp escaped from the eco-warriors. "How could you?" screamed Gaia.
"Child, I had no choice," she said in a pleading manner. "They gave me complete medical and dental, including experimental cures that most policies won't cover."
A confused murmur went up from the eco-squadron. This was indeed a stunning blow: If their wisest and most earth-conscious persun-in-arms could be so easily bought, what chance did the rest of them have? Along with the lawyers around him, the tree butcher 'wore a grin like the cat that had satisfied its nutritional needs at the expense of the canary.
But Hansel oops! Heathdweller and Gaia were well acquainted with their father's ruthlessness and had devised a back-up plan. With great pomp and flurry, they each put on hooded robes, drew a pentagram on the ground, and burned dried herbs in a small crucible. Everyone looked on in curiosity, and perhaps with a little fear. Then the brother and sister chanted an invocation in a language that even the Wiccan had never heard. The wind began to blow and the air crackled. Then, with a flash of light, it was done. The entire papermaking operation headquarters building, plant, and warehouse complexes had changed from steel and concrete to peppermint sticks, gingerbread, and gumdrops.
The ecoteurs' mouths hung open, then they let out a cheer. The lawyers conferred among themselves and jotted notes about possible action plans in their Filofaxes. The Wiccan just stood there while her mouth formed a silent "Wow."
The tree butcher put on a brave front. "Nice trick, kids, but you haven't stopped me. The plant is still as sturdy as ever, and now my maintenance costs are down to a little frosting and fudge. Thanks very much. We'll still keep operating, and we're still going to tear down your forest."
Heathdweller and Gaia didn't answer him, but instead burned more herbs and breathed more incantations. The wind again blew and the air crackled, and before everyone's eyes, the entire squad of lawyers was turned into a horde of mice very hungry mice who immediately swarmed over the huge, sticky-sweet industrial complex that lay before them and began to devour it.
The Wiccan had no idea that the siblings were so well versed in the black arts. She tried to appease them with flattery: "That was very impressive. We have a lot to teach each other, don't we? I'm looking forward to sharing our knowledge together in an open and supportive " but her words were cut short as Heathdweller and Gaia flicked their paranormal whip and transformed her from a woman in her golden years to a slinky, white-bellied weasel. The former Wiccan then ran off to join the mice in their factory feeding frenzy.
Their father was now visibly shaken as he watched the work of a lifetime being squeakily devoured. Ever the master of the guilt trip, he finally said, "And this is how you kids repay me? Do you think it was easy being a single working parent? If I hadn't brought you into the woods that day, you wouldn't have found this whole new life for yourselves. And this is the thanks I get? What about my needs? I've been in the wood business all my life, now what am I supposed to do?"
So Heathdweller and Gaia did him a favour and turned him into a beaver.
After this ordeal, the ecoheroes picked up their placards and headed back into the forest.
Heathdweller and Gaia worked hard at perfecting their supernatural skills, which they put to use solely for defending the planet. Their neighbours respected the siblings' privacy, lest a stray incantation turn them into a different (though certainly not inferior) species. And the magical brother and sister, their friends, and, most important, the trees of the forest lived happily ever after

The Emporers New Clothes

Far away, in a time long past, there lived a travelling tailor who found himself in an unfamiliar country. Now, tailors who move from place to place normally keep to themselves and are careful not to overstep the bounds of local decency. This tailor, though, was overly gregarious and decorum-impaired, and soon he was at a local inn, abusing alcohol, invading the personal space of the female employees, and telling unenlightened stories about tinkers, dung-gatherers, and other tradespeople.
The innkeeper complained to the police, who grabbed the tailor and dragged him in front of the emperor. As you might expect, a lifetime of belief in the absolute legitimacy of the monarchy and in the inherent superiority of males had turned the emperor into a vain and wisdom-challenged tyrant. The tailor noticed these traits and decided to use them to his advantage.
The emperor asked, "Do you have any last request before I banish you from my domain forever?"
The tailor replied, "Only that your majesty allow me the honour of Grafting a new royal wardrobe. For I have brought with me a special fabric that is so rare and fine that it can be seen only by certain people the type of people you'd want to have in your realm people who are politically correct, morally righteous, intellectually astute, culturally tolerant, and who don't smoke, drink, laugh at sexist jokes, watch too much television, listen to country music, or barbecue."
After a moment's thought, the emperor agreed to this request. He was flattered by the fascist and testosterone-heavy idea that the empire and its inhabitants existed only to make him look good. It would be like having a trophy wife and multiplying that feeling by 100,000.
Of course, no such rarefied fabric existed. Years of living outside the bounds of normal society had forced the tailor to develop his own moral code that obliged him to swindle and embarrass the emperor in the name of independent craftspeople everywhere. So, as he diligently laboured, he was able to convince the emperor that he was cutting and sewing pieces of fabric that, in the strictest objective sense of reality, didn't exist.
When the tailor announced that he was finished, the emperor looked at his new robes in the mirror. As he stood there, naked as the day he was born, one could see how years of exploiting the peasantry had turned his body into an ugly mass of puffy white flesh. The emperor, of course, saw this too, but pretended that he could see the beautiful, politically correct robes. To show off his new splendour, he ordered a parade to be held the next day.
On the following morning, his subjects lined the streets for the big parade. Word had spread about the emperor's new clothes that only enlightened people with healthy lifestyles could see, and everyone was determined to be more right-minded than his or her neighbour.
The parade began with great hoopla. As the emperor marched his pale, bloated, patriarchal carcass down the street, everyone loudly oohed and ahhed at his beautiful new clothes. All except one small boy, who shouted:
"The emperor is naked!"
The parade stopped. The emperor paused. A hush fell over the crowd, until one quick-thinking peasant shouted:
"No, he isn't. The emperor is merely endorsing a clothing-optional lifestyle!"
A cheer went up from the crowd, and the throngs stripped off their clothes and danced in the sun, as Nature had intended. The country was clothing-optional from that day forward, and the tailor, deprived of any livelihood, packed up his needle and thread and was never heard from again.

Cinderella!

There once lived a young woman named Cinderella, whose natural birthmother had died when Cinderella was but a child. A few years after, her father married a widow with two older daughters. Cinderella's mother-of-step treated her very cruelly, and her sisters-of-step made her work very hard, as if she were their own personal unpaid labourer.
One day an invitation arrived at their house. The prince was celebrating his exploitation of the dispossessed and marginalised peasantry by throwing a fancy dress ball. Cinderella's sisters-of-step were very excited to be invited to the palace. They began to plan the expensive clothes they would use to alter and enslave their natural body images to emulate an unrealistic standard of feminine beauty. (It was especially unrealistic in their case, as they were differently visaged enough to stop a clock.) Her mother-of-step also planned to go to the ball, so Cinderella was working harder than a dog (an appropriate if unfortunately specialist metaphor).
When the day of the ball arrived, Cinderella helped her mother- and sisters-of-step into their ball gowns. A formidable task: It was like trying to force ten pounds of processed nonhuman animal carcasses into a five-pound skin. Next came immense cosmetic augmentation, which it would be best not to describe at all. As evening fell, her mother- and sisters-of-step left Cinderella at home to finish her housework. Cinderella was sad, but she contented herself with her Holly Near records.
Suddenly there was a flash of light, and in front of Cinderella stood a man dressed in loose-fitting, all-cotton clothes and wearing a wide-brimmed hat. At first Cinderella thought he was a Southern lawyer or a bandleader, but he soon put her straight.
"Hello, Cinderella, I am your fairy godperson, or individual deity proxy, if you prefer. So, you want to go to the ball, eh? And bind yourself into the male concept of beauty? Squeeze into some tight-fitting dress that will cut off your circulation? Jam your feet into high-heeled shoes that will ruin your bone structure? Paint your face with chemicals and makeup that have been tested on nonhuman animals?"
"Oh yes, definitely," she said in an instant. Her fairy godperson heaved a great sigh and decided to put off her political education till another day. With his magic, he enveloped her in a beautiful, bright light and whisked her away to the palace.
Many, many carriages were lined up outside the palace that night; apparently, no one had ever thought of carpooling. Soon, in a heavy, gilded carriage painfully pulled by a team of horse-slaves, Cinderella arrived. She was dressed in a clinging gown woven of silk stolen from unsuspecting silkworms. Her hair was festooned with pearls plundered from hardworking, defenceless oysters. And on her feet, dangerous though it may seem, she wore slippers made of finely cut crystal.
Every head in the ballroom turned as Cinderella entered. The men stared at and lusted after this woman who had captured perfectly their Barbie-doll ideas of feminine desirability. The women, trained at an early age to despise their own bodies, looked at Cinderella with envy and spite. Cinderella's own mother- and sisters-of-step, consumed with jealousy, failed to recognise her.
Cinderella soon caught the roving eye of the prince, who was busy discussing jousting and bear-baiting with his cronies. Upon seeing her, the prince was struck with a fit of not being able to speak as well as the majority of the population."Here," he thought, "is a woman that I could make my princess and impregnate with the progeny of our perfect genes, and thus make myself the envy of every other prince for miles around. And she's blond, too!"
The prince began to cross the ballroom toward his intended prey. His cronies also began to walk toward Cinderella. So did every other male in the ballroom who was younger than 70 and not serving drinks.
Cinderella was proud of the commotion she was causing. She walked with head high and carried herself like a woman of eminent social standing. But soon it became clear that the commotion was turning into something ugly, or at least socially dysfunctional.
The prince had made it clear to his friends that he was intent on "possessing" the young woman But the prince's resoluteness angered his pals, for they too lusted after her and wanted to own her. The men began to shout and push each other. The prince's best friend, who was a large if cerebrally constrained duke, stopped him halfway across the dance floor and insisted that he was going to have Cinderella. The prince's response was a swift kick to the groin, which left the duke temporarily inactive. But the prince was quickly seized by other sex-crazed males, and he disappeared into a pile of human animals.
The women were appalled by this vicious display of testosterone, but try as they might, they were unable to separate the combatants. To the other woman, it seemed that Cinderella was the cause of all the trouble, so they encircled her and began to display very unsisterly hostility. She tried to escape, but her impractical glass slippers made it nearly impossible. Fortunately for her, none of the other woman were shod any better.
The noise grew so loud that no one heard the clock in the tower chime midnight. When the bell rang the twelfth time, Cinderella's beautiful gown and slippers disappeared, and she was dressed once again in her peasant's rags. Her mother- and sisters-of-step recognised her now, but kept quiet to avoid embarrassment.
The woman grew silent at this magical transformation. Freed from the confinements of her gown and slippers, Cinderella sighed and stretched and scratched her ribs. She smiled, closed her eyes and said, "Kill me now if you want, sisters, but at least I'll die in comfort."
The woman around her again grew envious, but this time they took a different approach: Instead of exacting vengeance on her, they stripped off their bodices, corsets, shoes, and every other confining garment. They danced and jumped and screeched in sheer joy, comfortable at last in their shifts and bare feet.
Had the men looked up from their macho dance of destruction, they would have seen many desirable woman dressed as if for the boudoir. But they never ceased pounding, punching, kicking, and clawing each other until, to the last man, they were dead.
The woman clucked their tongues but felt no remorse. The palace and realm were theirs now. Their first official act was to dress the men in their discarded dresses and tell the media that the fight arose when someone threatened to expose the cross-dressing tendencies of the prince and his cronies. Their second was to set up a clothing co-op that produced only comfortable, practical clothes for woman Then they hung a sign on the castle advertising CinderWear (for that was what the new clothing was called), and through self-determination and clever marketing, they all even the mother- and sisters-of-step lived happily ever after.
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vss · 2 авг 2005

Все не читал, но выражение "The vertically challenged man" определенно понравилось

Anna · 2 авг 2005

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Уроки культурно чуткого

Теплый летний день. Маленькая преженщина играет с нечеловеческим компаньоном в своей комнате. Ее более хронологически одаренный брат Джон готовится выйти на улицу. Он только что закрыл переработанный скелет дерева, написанный Анни Фишер, которая ранее работала в сфере предоставления услуг для взрослых, а теперь стала гостьей исправительного учреждения. Переработанный скелет дерева показался Джону, человеческому существу, иноментальному, с недостаточной мотивацией, инакоинтересным. Более того, Джон подумал, что это наименее лучший роман, который он читал за всю свою жизнь.

Впрочем, Джон быстро забыл об оставленном переработанном скелете дерева. Его ждала Маргарет, его заместитель супруга, чтобы вместе пойти в центр по сохранению свободной природы. Кроме того, Джону не терпелось показать Маргарет свой автомобиль, который он приобрел на распродаже ранее пользовавшихся успехом автомобилей. Друзья считали Маргарет косметически иной, а родители Джона -- к тому же и инообученной. Но Джон все равно любил ее. Его не интересовало мнение других человеческих существ.

Выйдя из дома, Джон заглянул в магазин, чтобы купить заместителю супруга какой-нибудь подарок. В магазине он заметил горизонтально одаренное человеческое существо, которое, несмотря на свою видимую уникальную координацию движений, занималось нестандартным приобретением переработанной плоти нечеловеческого происхождения. Джон хотел было рассказать об альтернативном покупателе менеджеру по продажам, но решил не привлекать его внимание: человеческое существо было явно лицом экономически неподготовленным, профессионально незанятым, да, возможно, еще и с гибким местом жительства. Кроме того, Джон скорее готов был стать жертвой глобального систематического синдрома биологической дисфункции, нежели опоздать на встречу с Маргарет.
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Politically Correct Fairy Tales

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Politically Correct Fairy Tales

Anna Аксакал

vss Новичок

Anna Аксакал

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