Once upon a time there was a completely grown-up young woman who lived near the banks of the St. Lawrence River in what is commonly called the Thousand Islands Region. Her given name was Gwyneth White, but her nickname was Snow, due to her proficiency in skiing, skating, and other winter sports. She had been raised in a magnificent castle on one of the islands in the river, but upon the untimely demise of her father her wicked step-mother, realizing she was under no legal obligation to provide for a step-child who had attained the age of majority, summarily evicted Snow from the only home she had ever known. And so, not knowing what else to do with herself, Snow hired herself out as a live-in housekeeper for seven bad-tempered dwarves who were the owners and operators of a sandstone quarry in the next county over.
And now, with that lengthy expository paragraph out of the way, the real story can begin.
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest one of all?" asked the wicked stepmother, admiring her voluptuous figure.
"You are, baby," answered The Wolf, wrapping his arms around her. He had looked up some quotes on the Internet a few moments earlier, and now rattled one of them off. "Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships and burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Hey, that's Shakespeare, baby!"
"Marlowe," Millie-Helen corrected him absently.
"Sure, whatever you say, baby," agreed The Wolf. He looked over her shoulder into the mirror, trying to hide the sad look in his face while gave a soft sigh, although not so soft that he didn't make sure Millie-Helen could hear it.
"Wolfy," she said, turning around and taking his paws, "there's something on your mind. Now, don't try and deny it; I can tell! Now, what's the trouble?"
"Well, you see, the thing is, I'm really worried about my brother. He got himself involved with some gangsters…"
"Oh, my! Whatever are gangsters doing around here?"
"I think they've got a summer place over in the mountains," explained The Wolf hurriedly. "Anyhow, this cousin of mine placed a bunch of bets on some horse races with them, and didn't do too well, and now they want their money!"
"Only he doesn't have it?" suggested Millie-Helen.
"Exactly!" agreed The Wolf, pleased at how quickly she was picking up on things. "And they said if he doesn't come up with thirty thousand dollars they would, well, they made all kinds of dire threats about what they would do to him if he didn't cough up their dough, pronto!"
"Well, we certainly can't have anything dire happen to your… male relative," declared Millie-Helen, reaching for her checkbook. "Only I hope he's learned his lesson now!"
"I'm sure he has." And then, seeing she was writing out his name, Theodore Wolf, on the check, quickly suggested, "Hey, baby, I don't suppose you could make that payable to Cash… um, well, never mind, it's okay like this."
"Now Wolfy," said Millie-Helen, "I need you to make yourself scarce for a bit. Mr. Greene's on his way here, and I need to talk business with him."
She turned back to her gold-bordered looking-glass. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the richest one of all?"
"You may think you are, but you're not," announced Mr. Greene. "You've just got yourself a bunch of trouble."
"Nothing I can't handle, I'm sure." She perched her glasses on her nose, and studied the papers her accountant handed her, all five fingers of her right hand a blur of motion on her adding machine.
"Did you give The Wolf another check? I saw him leaving as I was coming in, and he was grinning like the cat who ate the canary!"
"Just a trifle for his efforts," she shrugged, not pausing in her perusal of his figures.
"You need to stop giving him money," the accountant cautioned her.
"Oh, what's a few thousand when I've got billions to play with?"
"That's just what you haven't got. The main reason I came over is to tell you that a new will from your late husband has been found!"
"What?!" she asked sharply, her fingers hovering over the machine.
"And it cuts you out, and leaves his fortune to your step-daughter!"
"Don't give me that," she snapped. "It isn't easy to disinherit a spouse!"
"Yes, there is an annuity that provides for you," he admitted, "but the vast fortune and this palace all go to Gwyneth White."
"Well, I'm not giving all this up!" declared Millie-Helen. "What do we need to do to invalidate this new will?"
"You'll have to talk to your lawyer about that," Mr. Greene informed her, gathering up his papers, "but I can tell you this much. Contesting a will is an extremely lengthy process, and in the meantime…"
"Yes, I see I need to come up with a speedier solution," mused Millie-Helen. She turned to one side and asked, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the slyest one of all?"
"Pizza delivery!"
"What?" asked Snow White. She was standing in the doorway of the seven dwarves' home, a feather duster in hand, and dressed in her maid's uniform, a black dress with a white apron, while crowning her jet-black hair was a lacy white frill.
"Pizza delivery!" repeated Millie-Helen impatiently. She wore her old work uniform, which consisted of blue shorts and a red tank-top with large white letters reading One Cute Tomato Pizzeria.
"Why are you here?" asked Snow, waving the feather duster.
"I'm here," explained Millie-Helen impatiently, "to deliver this pizza!"
"If this is about that hearing this afternoon about the new will…" began Snow.
"Um, about that," interrupted Millie-Helen. "Yes, it appears I'm going to be poor again! Unless, of course, I can rely upon your generosity?"
"I'm certain," replied Snow, "that you can expect me to treat you as generously as you treated me."
"That bad, huh?" Millie-Helen settled the cardboard pizza box on the open windowsill. "Yes, I was afraid of that, which is why I went back to my old job delivering pizzas."
"Well, you delivered this one to the wrong place," Snow informed her. "I didn't order it."
"Then one of your employers must have."
"They couldn't have done that," replied Snow, "since there's no one here but me." And then she gave a gasp, remembering that the dwarves had always cautioned her never to reveal to anyone when she was home alone.
But luckily Millie-Helen did not appear to notice her lapse. "Anyhow, I'll just leave the pizza right there, okay?" she said with an innocent smile.
"I'm not going to eat it," Snow informed her. "Not if you brought it. It's probably poisoned."
"Of course it's not poisoned. How can you say such a horrible thing, accusing me of trying to poison you? Here, just to show you that it's not poisonous I'll eat some of it myself." Millie-Helen opened the box, and chose a slice from the side without any pepperoni. "There, you see? I'm eating it, and I'm not being even the slightest bit poisoned, so you see, it can't possibly be poisonous!"
"Well, I guess it's okay, then." Snow White reached for a slice with pepperoni. "You know, this is pretty good," she admitted, just before she toppled over in a deep sleep.
Snow White was gradually aware of a vague sensation of being suspended in violet-black nothingness as her upright body slowly rotated first in one direction, and then the other. She attempted to call out, but discovered, to her puzzlement, that her mouth seemed to be full of cotton or some other substance. She tried to move her arms, but they were firmly tied against her sides.
She blinked her eyes open in confusion, and found herself in the castle dungeon, hanging in the air by a long rope which was connected to the cords binding her arms. This rope ran up to a large hook on the ceiling, and then diagonally down again, where it was knotted around an iron ring set into a stone pillar.
She looked down, and saw many more coils of rope lying on the floor, and then gave a gasp of horror, for beneath her feet was a large vat containing a vile-looking colorless liquid. She started jerking herself about, and, as her legs were not bound, they kicked back and forth wildly, causing her shoes to fall off, one splattering into the vat with an ominous hiss, and the other flying out towards the entrance of the dungeon.
"Stop throwing things at me!" ordered her step-mother, arriving down the stairs at that moment. She carried a tall candle in a brass holder in one hand, which she placed on a stony protrusion jutting out from the pillar. She had discarded the pizza delivery outfit she had worn earlier, and, in anticipation of the hearing about the will, was now the bereaved wife, dressed in her black widow's weeds.
"Mpfff!" replied Snow, struggling wildly.
"I'd stop doing that if I were you," advised Millie-Helen. "You see, if you slip out of those ropes then you'll fall into the hydrochloric acid beneath you!"
"Mpfff!" Snow suddenly became very still.
"Of course, it doesn't really matter," continued Millie-Helen, pushing the candle over so that its flame now burned into the rope where it was tied to the pillar, "because you most definitely will be going in, eventually!"
"Mpfff!"
"I guess it's just of matter of whether you want to control your own destiny or not."
"Hey, baby, where are you?" came The Wolf's voice faintly from upstairs.
Millie-Helen spun around angrily. "I thought I told you not to come by today!" she shouted up.
"Hey, baby, you know I can't stay away from you!" he called back. "Besides, you see, the thing is, I was walking by Dave's Dungeon Supplies when I saw these shiny new handcuffs winking at me through the window and telling me to buy them for you. Here, let me come…"
"NO! Stay up there!" Millie-Helen gave a sigh of frustration. "Hang tight!" she told Snow, and then bounded up the stairs.
Snow White heard the sound of angry voices which quickly faded away, and looked anxiously at the candle which had blackened a small section of the rope. "I've got a few minutes left to escape," she told herself, "but what can I do? If I do get free then I'll just plunge into that acid!" And she was quite sure it truly was deadly acid, from the noxious odor that almost overwhelmed her.
She gave her whole body an angry jerk, which caused her to swing slightly out. Heartened by this result she continued the jerks, which caused the swings to lengthen as she moved back and forth, the ends of each swing now carrying her past the vat. "I still might fall in, but at least this way I have a chance!" she thought grimly.
Suddenly, she felt herself slipping through the lengthy coil which held her as she started swinging away from center. As she braced herself for the fall she became faintly aware of Millie-Helen returning before she fell and landed squarely upon her step-mother.
"Get off me!" screamed Millie-Helen.
"Mpfff," replied Snow White, removing the bandana from her face and the cloth from her mouth.
"I said get off mpfff!" Millie-Helen found her mouth now full of cloth, and then held in place with the bandana. Her eyes went wide with shock as Snow lifted her up, placed her against the stone pillar, and used the ropes on hand to tie her against it.
"Hey baby!" came The Wolf's voice, drawing closer. "Don't be all mad with me! Hey, what's the big secret here, anyhow? Oh, um, hi Snow!"
"Hi, Wolfy," replied Snow, and then, "Hey, thanks; these will come in handy," as she took the handcuffs from him, clamping them on Millie-Helen's wrists, securing her arms behind the pillar.
"What's going on?" asked The Wolf, looking a bit dazed.
"It's… kind of a long story," replied Snow vaguely, smoothing her apron.
"I think I get the picture," said The Wolf, looking at the flickering candle and then at the suspended rope, which, just then, silently snaked into the vat. He turned to Millie-Helen. "Baby, I know you're wicked, but, wow, don't you think this is pretty close to crossing the line?"
"Mpfff!" replied Millie-Helen defiantly.
"I guess she was pretty sure she'd lose her legal battle over the new will," he mused, giving Snow White an appraising look.
"Which reminds me, I need to get ready for that hearing," she said, looking down at her disheveled uniform and ripped stockings. She picked up her one remaining shoe from the floor. "So she needs to stay tied up for a few minutes until I can get away. It would be tempting to just leave her like this, so she can't attend…"
"I'm sure it would make a bad impression on the judge if she didn't show up," interposed The Wolf.
"…but I'm not going to stoop to her level," continued Snow. "So, can I count on you to untie her once I'm out of here, Wolfy?"
"Sure, no problem," he agreed. "Your slightest wish is my deepest command, gorgeous! As soon as you're gone I'll set her free!"
The Wolf watched Snow's departing figure with admiration, and then settled himself onto a stone bench. "So, baby, how do you like those handcuffs?" he asked. "Pretty impossible to escape from, aren't they?"
"Mpfff!" replied Millie-Helen, and then, "Mpfff!" she repeated louder, impatiently.
"Forget it, baby; I'm not going to untie you," he announced.
One final note.
At this point the reader may wonder what happened to the prince who was supposed to appear in this story. But the answer is quite simple. As soon as Snow White came into her inheritance princes from all of the countries in the world which still produce them flocked to her castle, so that she had plenty to choose from, and then, eventually determining the one she liked the best, she settled down with him, and the two of them lived happily ever after.