I invite you to read my submission for Susanna Leonard Hill’s March Madness Writing Contest
The Challenge: Write a children’s story, in poetry or prose, maximum 400 words, that is a fractured fairy tale. Feel free to add a theme of spring, or mix in one of the spring holidays if you like…
Have fun with it! The madder* the better! *as in wild and wacky …
You’ve still got until 11:59 EDT tonight to join in!
The following is my entry of exactly 400 words – you may find it a wee bit grim – but at least no one is eating little pigs, or grandmothers, or children…
HECK HATH NO FURY LIKE MS. MUFFET SCORNED
This is a fable of lies and deceit—
Not for the faint-hearted or stomachs that’re weak.
The tale, its author, the unpopular Father Gander,
Is told from his viewpoint with unflinching candor.
There once was a young man known to most as Young Jack.
He liked it that way ‘cause it cut him much slack.
For who could believe that someone so young
Would make fat Mrs. Sprat the brunt of a pun
Or that Jack was the cause of Jill’s spill down the hill?
Indeed, Willie Winkie watched on from the mill.
And afterwards, poor Humpty—yes, Willie saw it all,
The push down the hill, the shove off the wall.
Now, Little Ms. Muffet had her issues with Jack,
As did an Old Woman, Bo-Peep, and a cat.
Except Ms. M’s love had been spurned by Jack thrice,
So she swore to destroy him, no matter the price.
Her patience paid off whilst on her tuffet one day
When her plan for revenge crystalized in a most auspicious way…
Shivering, shaking, M feigned her distress.
As Sy happened by,
A huge lie she professed,
Knowing full well he’d take off after Jack,
To save Muffet’s honor—yes, Sy did things like that.
With a kiss on his lips and a promise of more,
Sy bound from the house with a slam of the door.
“I’ll not give up till I find that bum!”
Upset, Sy ran off, his nose in the air,
But he couldn’t smell Jack,
Not his hide, nor his hair.
Soon he bumped into Baaaa, a black sheep.
“I still have my wool,” she woefully bleat.
“It’s the white ones who’ve lost it
“Jack cropped, sheared, and tossed it,
“Before chasing them up that steep hill—”
Although Jack was nimble and known to be quick,
He could not outrun Sy and Sy’s walking stick, “Flick”.
Sy stopped, checked the wind, aimed Flick at Jack’s back,
Then he flung it, and bingo!
Flick laid the boy flat.
Then with a “FUM, FO, FEE, FI!”
Sy first, ground Jack’s bones into gooseberry pie,
Before returning to the love of his life
And asking Ms. Muffet, “Will you be my wife?”
The Moral Of The Story?
Beware of one-eyed-giants bearing just desserts.
(A grimmer version of 437 words may be found HERE)