The Greatest Fairy Tale of All Time

The Fairy Books sat in a pile on Marcus’s nightstand. The colored spines stacked on top of each other looked like the arcs of a rainbow.

He pulled his comforter up to his chin. His father sat in a chair next to the bed, flipping through the Red Fairy Book. Some of the worn pages had broken from the spine.

“Come on,” he said, “I haven’t read any of these to you in a while.”

“No,” Marcus said. “I want a new story. We’ve gone through all those before.”

Marcus’s father set the book down. He rubbed his forehead with his palm.

“Well, I can make one up for you. Is that okay?”

“I guess,” Marcus said, “but it needs to be one that I’ll recognize.”

Marcus’s father suppressed a grin at his son’s contradictory demand.

His brow furrowed, the lines on his forehead creasing like the spines of the books. He jumbled together all the characters he committed to memory. The plot structures and settings. The archetypes and themes and conflicts. All sloshed together inside his brain like a witch concocting a brew in a cauldron.

“Something that’s original… but familiar…”

He gasped as an idea came to him. A story that incorporated all the things his son knew and loved, but that was entirely new.

“I’ve got it,” he said.

“What’s it called?” Marcus asked.

“The Greatest Fairy Tale of All Time,” his father said.

Marcus’s toes curled under the covers in excitement. He pulled the sheets up to his nose. His father took a breath.

Once upon a time there lived a girl named Little Red Riding Hood. She had a real name, but the villagers called her Little Red Riding Hood because of the red cape she always wore. She lived with her grandmother in a-

“Wait a minute.” Marcus sat up in bed. He crossed his arms as he pouted. “I’ve heard this one a million times!”

“Not this one,” Marcus’s father said. “Be patient.”

Marcus reclined back into his bed. His father picked up where he left off.

She lived with her grandmother in a hut in the forest outside of the village. Every day, Little Red Riding Hood would walk into the village to pick up food for her grandmother, as she was old and unable to care for herself.

One day, on her way into the village, she came across a wolf with gray fur and a long snout.

“What’s your name, little girl?” the wolf asked.

“Little Red Riding Hood,” she said.

“What are you doing wandering around the forest by yourself? It’s not safe for a little girl like you.”

“I’m on my way to the village to pick up food. My grandmother is ill and I must take care of her.”

“Oh,” the wolf said. “Poor dear. Why don’t you pick some flowers and give them to her as a gift?”

“What a great idea!” the girl said. “Grandmother will love… my word! What a large bump you have on your head!”

The wolf chuckled as it rubbed the spot with its paw.

“Oh, yes,” the wolf said. “That bump has quite the story behind it. I can hardly believe it myself. Let me tell you all about it.”

The pair sat cross-legged in the middle of the road. The wolf inhaled a deep breath and exhaled, the air whistling through its fangs.

Here’s what happened. There once was a family of pigs. An old mother pig and her three sons. One day, when the sons had grown up, she sent them out into the world to seek their fortunes.

The oldest son was a lazy piece of pork. He didn’t like to work at all and chose to build his house out of straw. The second oldest son worked a little bit harder but was also lazy and built his house out of sticks. However, the third and youngest son was the hardest working of them all and spent the entire day building his house out of bricks.

The next day, I happened across the straw house and smelled the delicious pig inside. I knew it would make a fine meal. My mouth watered as I knocked on the door.

“Little pig! Little pig! Let me in! Let me in!”

“No! No! No! Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin!”

“Then I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house down!”

And that’s exactly what I did. I blew the house down and ate the pig whole. It tasted as good as it smelled.

I continued down the road and happened across the stick house. Once again, the pig refused me admittance. So I blew the house to smithereens and made a meal out of the bastard.

When I came across the brick house, I knew I had my work cut out for me. It didn’t matter how much huffing and puffing I did. That blasted house stayed up. Except for one little brick that fell off the roof and smacked me right on the noggin! I can still see the stars dancing in front of my eyes. That’s when I knew I had enough trouble for one day. So I went on home and curled up in front of the fireplace with a copy of Werewolf Weekly. There was an article on the front page that talked about a girl around your age. Let me see if I have it with me… ah, here it is.

The wolf pulled a folded copy of the paper out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Little Red Riding Hood. She read it to herself in silence.

10-YEAR-OLD GIRL CHARGED WITH BREAKING AND ENTERING

Police have charged Miss Goldilocks Principal, 10, with one count of breaking and entering. According to the Other Side of the Wood Police Department, a 911 call was received on February 29th from Mr. Papa Bear, 42, when he and his family arrived back at their house after waiting for their porridge to cool and happened across Miss Principal watching TV.

“My family and I had never seen anything like it,” Mr. Bear said in an interview with police. “We didn’t think to fasten the door because we are good bears who do nobody any harm and never suspect that anybody would harm us. Well, I guess we know better now. But it’s not our fault that that girl wasn’t raised properly. What do you expect to happen when you let a child gallivant around the Other Side of the Wood all by herself? It’s a miracle nobody got hurt. My son Wee is right traumatized by the whole thing.”

While Miss Principal has apologized for scaring the bejesus out of the Bear Family, she maintains that she did nothing wrong.

“Big deal. Sue me. I’m, like, 10. I’ve got no money. And my mom doesn’t either. She’s the one that sent me on the errand in the first place. It’s her fault. What was I supposed to do? Stupid bears left their door open. They might as well have put a sign on the door saying, like, WE WELCOME ALL THE FLIES IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD. Almost burned the roof of my mouth off from that freaking porridge. I should sue them. They’ve got money. I’ll bet they’re the only ones in the Other Side of the Wood that have cable and satellite. And they’ve got plasma screens in each room! Can you freaking believe it? The big bear’s TV almost popped my eardrums, and I couldn’t hear the wife’s TV, but the son’s TV wasn’t too loud or too soft but, like, just right. Not to mention that they’ve got all the premium movie channels, too. So I picked out the latest Cinderella remake and paid the $9.99 because they can afford it. Wasn’t half bad.

“That one Latina actress played a high school singer-wannabe named Cilantra. After her parents die, she’s raised by some washed-up celebrity has-been. The celeb’s snotty daughters treat Cilantra, like, like a slave and bully her at school. Can’t remember the name of the guy that played the hunk. Anyway, Cilantra conspired with her friends to finish all her chores so she could attend the school dance. She ended up getting it on with Mr. I’m Hot and You’re Not because he went to the dance stag because, like, Other Side of the Hollywood.

“They dance the night away, but at a quarter to midnight, Cilantra rushes out because she has to drop her rental car back off at the dealer or she’ll be charged an extra day’s rent. On the way back home, some blind guy walks out in the middle of the road and she swerves to avoid him.”

The speedometer reached triple digits. Cilantra’s high heeled shoe floored the accelerator. Paying another day’s rent for the car was more expensive than risking a ticket.

Her cheeks burned as she remembered dancing the night away with Cilantro. The scent of his citrusy cologne. His rough, manly hands pressed against the small of her back. The way his suit jacket hugged his broad shoulders. The timbre of his frothy, deep voice.

She replayed one moment over and over in her mind. The music slowed, a saxophone oozed out of the speakers, Cilantro’s brown eyes locked onto hers. They stopped swaying and stood motionless in the middle of the packed gymnasium. His hands cupped her cheeks. She felt no embarrassment at the people watching them. His stubble grazed her chin as their lips met.

An arrow of adrenaline pierced her and lodged itself in her heart. She felt nauseous with desire. Her legs turned to jelly and almost gave out beneath her. He kissed her again and again and again.

“I don’t know who you are underneath the eye mask,” Cilantro said, “but you’re different than all the other girls here. Beautiful… gorgeous… stunning… none of those are good enough to describe you.”

Cilantra never had a chance to respond. The digital clock on the wall read 11:45PM. The Hurtz Car Company beckoned. Without even saying good-bye, she turned on her heel and fled from the gymnasium.

“God… will he recognize me tomorrow? Why didn’t I tell him my name?”

Her heart raced with the Honda she rented for the night. A cocktail of emotions swirled through her veins. Excitement at the prospect of seeing Cilantro again at school. Concern at having to pay for another day’s rent. Frustration at giving him her cell phone to hold since her dress didn’t have pockets and leaving without it.

She didn’t see the man in the road until it was almost too late. She slammed the brakes. Her tires screamed. She yanked on the steering wheel. Her car lurched to the side of the road. The seatbelt dug into her chest.

She took several deep breaths to calm herself before getting out of the car. The man froze in the middle of the road, shell-shocked. She stared at him. For a moment, she thought that he was on his way home from some sort of medieval festival. He wore a white vest with white pants and a white cape with gold trim. A dirt stain took up the bulk of his cape, as if he had fallen on his back and smudged it.

“Sir!” Cilantra said. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Should I call 911?”

“Rapunzel?” the man said. “Is that you?”

“My name’s Cilantra. Hold on… I can call an ambulance.”

“You sound just like her,” the man said. “She always sang to me when we met in the tower. You must be a singer yourself. She has the same voice as you. If only I could see you…”

The man flailed his arms as if he were walking in a dark room. Cilantra gasped as she realized that the man couldn’t see.

“My God… you’re blind? Don’t worry, I can take you wherever you need to go.”

She grabbed his hand and led him over to her car. She opened the passenger seat door and sat him down.

“Ah, if only you could…” the man said.

“What’s your name?” Cilantra asked.

“Prince. Just Prince.”

“You don’t have a last name?” Cilantra asked.

“I do. Prince.”

“You said you only have one name,” Cilantra said.

“No. My name is Just Prince.”

Cilantra stared at Just. Her mouth hung open in bewilderment.

“Don’t tell me your middle name starts with an A,” Cilantra said.

“As a matter of fact,” Just said, “it does.”

Cilantra bit down on her fist as a severe case of the giggles overwhelmed her. She feigned a coughing fit.

“Are you a real Prince?” Cilantra asked. “You know, like royalty?”

“No,” Just said. “That would be a mouthful. Imagine having to write Prince Just A. Prince whenever you signed your name.”

Cilantra couldn’t think of a suitable response. Just filled the silence, oblivious to the fact that only by the reflexes of a 16-year-old girl did he not collide with a two-ton hunk of plastic traveling at 100 miles per hour.

“It’s really quite beautiful how we met,” Just said. “I was riding along in the forest on my horse, Steed, and I heard a woman singing. It sounded like the voice of an angel calling to me. I followed the voice and came across a tower with no doors to enter it. I knew the voice was coming from the top of the tower, but I had no way to climb up.

“Again and again, I came back to the tower. Each time, the woman serenaded me as if she knew she had an audience. One day, I saw a sorceress standing at the base of the tower. She cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted, ‘Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair! That I may climb thy golden stair!’ At once, a rope of golden hair flew out of the window and down the side of the tower, allowing the sorceress to climb up. The next day, I called up to the woman and implored her to let down her hair. She did, and I climbed up.”

Cilantra winced as she imagined what it would feel like to support an entire human being with the roots of her hair. Just continued.

“It was love at first sight. She wasn’t of noble birth, but she held herself like a princess. Her smile that never left her face, her delicate hands that fit perfectly in mine, her watery eyes that pulled me in and drowned me in love.

“We devised a plan for her escape. Each time that I visited her, I brought a piece of cloth for her to weave into a ladder. But before the ladder was ready, we engaged in loving, tender s…”

…

Marcus sat up in excitement. He threw the covers aside. “Well? What happened next? What did they do?”

Marcus’s father shook his head. He pushed himself off the chair and crossed the bedroom.

“Next time, we’ll stick with the Fairy Books. Nightie night.”

He turned out the lights and shut the bedroom door.