FAIRLY TALES AND NEW SEWERY RHYMES

by Cynthia MacGregor

FAIRLY TAILS AND NEW SEWERY RHYMES

People in fairly tails are always having bad times—this is because the stories are all full of wicked watches. Naturally they all give bad time.

One of these stories is about a brother and sister. The sister is apparently named Elizabeth or Ellen or something—she’s so wonderful that everyone calls her Great El. Her brother has big ears that are great for pulling him along when he lags behind, and so he goes by Handle. Handle and Great El are going through the woods when they see a house made of cookies and candies and stuff. It has a ginger bed. Inside is an old crone, who usually plays bridge with her cronies but today has stayed home to bake. What she mostly wants to bake is Handle and Great El.

When they realize her intention, they tell her that lots of different publishers are going to print her story, but she’s not getting any royalties on any of the sold copies. This upsets the old crone so much that she sticks her head in the oven. Great El pushes her in the rest of the way and cooks her goose—and the rest of her as well. Then Great El and Handle eat the old crone out of house and home—walls and all.

Another girl who escapes from a wicked old crone is a short girl who reaches only up to the top of the winter’s drifts—so, of course, she’s known as Snow Height. Snow Height meets seven guys who live in a little house in the Far East and are just as height-challenged as she is. She apologizes for bothering them, but they assure her, “It’s no trouble a tall.” The wicked queen gives her a poisoned Apple, but the seven little guys tell Steve Jobs all about the queen’s evil deed (the deed is to their little house). The Apple had put a bad spell (K-A-T) on Snow Height, but Steve fixes her spellchecker, so she wakes up and marries him and lives happily ever after.

Then there’s Sender Ella. She lives with her stepfamily, a wicked stepmother and two terrible stepsisters, who have all enrolled in a twelve-step program. They feed Sender Ella crumbs of leftovers, and not even good stuff like leftover Beef Wellington, which means Sender Ella always has to keep asking, “Where’s the beef?” although she has a legitimate beef with her step-relatives.

To make ends meet, and to end up with some meat, Sender Ella takes in night work for the Post Office—they bring her all the mail marked, “Return to Sender.” Even if she wasn’t the one who sent it. All she’s mailed out for years has been letters to Dear Abby, asking how to get out of the mess she’s in. She’s so busy working, she never has the chance to write a whole letter at once, but she writes half at a time and sends them in by partial post.

Finally Prince Charmin, a paper-thin guy, gives a ball (autographed by Willie Mays), and Sender Ella decides she’s going to go and dance with the prince. Her furry godmother shows up to help out and fixes her up very micely. The furry godmother turns a pumpkin into a coach and six mice into referees.

At the ball, Sender Ella finds Prince Charmin, and the prince finds her charming too. But she runs out of the palace at midnight, because if she doesn’t return the rent-a-coach, Avis is going to charge her for an additional day. Despite the sign outside that says KEEP OFF THE GLASS, Sender Ella walks on it, and slips, which makes her a glass slipper.

She hires F. Lee Bailey and sues the king and queen for damages. This gives them a royal pain, but they settle out of court, with Sender Ella agreeing to drop her suit (she’s wearing very fancy underwear beneath it) if she can marry the prince.

Most of the brooms in fairly tales (and even unfair tales) belong to witches, but one heroine who’s famous for her broom is Sweeping Beauty. But as this is another story of a wicked old crone and a beloved heroine and a handsome prince, it often gets mistaken for a Summer Rerun.

Another story features a famous apprentice chef, named Jack. He tries to make a good vegetable stock out of beans. He does so well that his fame spreads far and wide. Everyone wants to meet Jack and taste his bean stock.

Food figures in many of these stories. The heroine of one story is even named after a salmon—of course I’m talking about Goldie Lox. You know the story of Goldie Lox and her forbears. And since you know it, I’d better forbear to repeat the whole thing here. It’s too confusing, anyhow—the story tells us she was eating “poor rich.” Which is it?

Like Goldie Lox, Old King Coal is also a fish—the new sewery rhyme tells us he was a merry old sole. But even if his story sounds fishy to you, you’d better believe it, ‘cause Old King Coal is Santa’s unsung helper. He’s the one who visits all the bad boys and girls and leaves something unwanted in their stockings.

His musicians fiddle around while he smokes his pipe. Then he goes bowling. But the Lung Association gets on his case, and he quits smoking. We wouldn’t want to have unsuitable roll models—or bread models or cake models—for our kids. So of course Old King Coal had to give up his pipe. Now his favorite treat is Coal’s slaw.

But we’re confusing our kids. What are they to believe about the Three Little Bigs—which size were they? (Obviously the wolf thought they were portion-sized. But Portion was a Shakespearean character and has no place in this discussion.)

(more tomw)