Once upon a time a completely grown-up brother and sister named Hansel and Gretel lived in their father's country cottage in complete contentment, until one day…
…their father abruptly married an alluring young widow named Millie-Helen he had met when she had delivered a pizza. Millie-Helen was exceedingly unenthusiastic about the presence of his two adult children in her new home, constantly telling them it was time for them to find places of their own to live, selfishly forgetting that they had lived there long before she ever had.
One fine summer morning when Hansel and Gretel came down to breakfast they discovered their wicked stepmother had gone entirely too far. She had placed the morning newspaper at their places on the dining room table, opened to the classified ads, Apartments for Rent.
"Dad, did you see what Millie-Helen did?" demanded Hansel, waving the newspaper incredulously.
"How much longer are you going to allow her to abuse us like this?" added Gretel.
"Children, your new mother is right," he replied shortly. "You are grown up and have good jobs and can easily take care of your own selves. Besides, she didn't marry me just so she could cook and clean for you."
Hansel and Gretel sighed, realizing their father was hopelessly under their wicked stepmother's spell and that they would have no peace that day. They hurriedly ate their heaping bowls of oatmeal sweetened with maple syrup, and then, taking a couple slices of toast with them, wandered out to the nearby forest. They planned to spend the day away to allow their father the opportunity to realize just how lonely things would be without their presence.
Gretel had wheat blonde hair, lightly waved, down to her waist. Due to the hot weather, she wore a coral tube top, azure hot shorts, pale yellow ankle socks, and white sneakers. Hans had straight, sandy brown hair. He wore a short-sleeved shirt with green and white stripes, tan cargo shorts, and brown hiking boots.
Their walk was pleasant at first, but, as is often the case with siblings, they began to take out their anger over their situation on one another, quarrelling about imaginary causes. Thus, when Hansel veered off to the east at a fork in the trail, Gretel swerved off to the west. They continued on their separate ways, moving farther and farther away from one another and their home, moving deeper into the dark and mysterious forest than they ever had before in their lives.
Hansel's path eventually led him to a gingerbread house of legend and the wicked witch who resided therein. However, as Gretel had a more unexpected encounter, her adventure will be narrated first.
___
"What are you doing out here all by yourself?" asked Gretel.
"Just waiting for you to show up, baby," answered The Wolf. He wore a burgundy shirt and dark blue trousers. He had been sitting comfortably on a folding chair in front of a wide maple tree stump, talking on his cell phone, but he sprang to his feet at the sight of Gretel. A red and white checked tablecloth lay draped across the tree stump. Two place settings were laid out near each other. A large wicker basket sat in the center, a loaf of Italian bread and a stick of salami poking temptingly out of one end.
"Glad you could join me, baby," added The Wolf, unfolding another chair in front of one of the place settings and gesturing welcomingly.
"Um, thank you for inviting me." Gretel sat down smoothly, spreading a red linen napkin in her lap. "But how did you know I was coming here? I mean, even iI/i didn't know I was until just a couple minutes ago.
"Well, the thing is, baby, on nice days like this you'd be surprised at just how many of the local damsels are wandering through the forest for one reason or another; Red on her way to visit her grandmother, Goldie to annoy the three bears, and many more." The Wolf reached into the basket and began placing several cardboard carryout food containers on his makeshift picnic table. "So what I do sometimes is I set up shop here by one of the more busily traveled trails and wait for one to show up. Luckily for me, the prettiest one did, today."
"So that means if I had been one of those other girls you would be sweet-talking her instead?" fumed Gretel.
"Hey, baby, like you said, how could I even know you were coming this way?"
"I'm not hungry any more!" Gretel threw down her napkin and stood up abruptly – so abruptly, in fact that her legs tangled in the legs of her chair. She twisted to one side, and fell face down onto the ground. The tall, soft grass cushioned her fall so that she was not the slightest bit hurt, but she was momentarily bewildered.
The moment was all The Wolf needed. He was used to the damsels sometimes acting like this, so he kept several lengths of rope coiled on the ground within easy reach. While Gretel was disengaging herself from her current predicament, he was engaging her in another, so that he soon had the ropes binding her. He tied her wrists tied behind her back, her upper arms against her sides, her knees together, and her ankles as well.
"Help, help!" screamed Gretel, looking around wildly as The Wolf replaced her on her chair, tying her more. He circled a rope around her stomach, tying the ends of the around the narrow metal frame of the chair, causing her hands to push gently against the soft fabric of the chair back. He finished binding her by circling the last of the rope around her thighs and tying the ends against the metal chair legs, so that Gretel's feet rested on the ground.
"Help, help!" screamed Gretel again. "Somebody, help! The Wolf's got me all tied up! Please, somebody come and… mpfff, mmm, ooh, yum, wow, that's sooooo scrumptious." While she had been shouting The Wolf had plunged a plastic spork into one of the carryout containers, loading it with cabbage, feta cheese, black olive slices, and a small wedge of tomato and then shoveling it into her mouth. "What kind of salad is this?"
"The label says Greek slaw, baby," answered The Wolf, delivering her another sporkful.
"Is it real, authentic, Greek food?" she asked, after she had chewed twenty times.
"Sure, baby," he agreed, knowing that was what she wanted to hear. "Those Greeks never go on a picnic without taking a big batch of the stuff along."
"Help, help," called out Gretel again, now that her mouth was empty. "Please, if anybody hears me, I really need some… no, not more of that; I'd like some potato salad this time." She wriggled against her ropes and pointed with her nose. "Yes, that's the one… help, help! Mmm, I love all that dill. You sure selected some tasty items at the deli, Wolfy."
"Only the best for you, baby," answered The Wolf, pulling out a jar of yellow mustard and slicing the bread and salami, making a couple sandwiches.
"Wolfy, dear, it truly is a lovely day out here. Would you mind awfully much removing my shoes and socks so I can enjoy tickling my toes on the gentle green grass?"
"Sure, baby." The Wolf hopped down and slipped off her sneakers. He had knotted the ropes around her socks, so he had to untie those ropes before he could remove them.
"Oh, Wolfy, you don't have to tie my ankles together again; I'm quite over trying to escape, really I am."
The Wolf smiled in reply, but tied her ankles together just the same.
Gretel pouted. "Help, help!" she started calling out again, so The Wolf held up one of the sandwiches for her to take a bite.
Gretel soon tired of calling out for help, but The Wolf never tired of serving her. He provided her with a sporkful of whichever dish she requested, spread expensive European soft cheeses on thin crackers at her desire, supplied sip after sip of sweet sparkling cider whenever she indicated she was thirsty, offered bites of her salami sandwich, wiped her chin with a napkin if some mustard dribbled down, and even gently brushed away a couple errant strands of her fine hair the playful breeze blew into her crystal blue eyes. The only thing he refused her was to loosen her ropes, no matter whether she pleaded prettily or commanded imperiously.
Their finished their leisurely meal with slices of chocolate cake for dessert. Gretel closed her eyes, pondering her future. She realized that Millie-Helen would eventually succeed in removing her (and her brother, but she wasn't concerned about him just then) from home. She was going to have to find a new place to live, and soon. She opened her eyes, and gazed at The Wolf.
She thought of his luxurious penthouse apartment in Syracuse (New York), supplied to him by the wife of the city's richest businessman. Why that prissy old biddy should do such a generous thing was beyond Gretel's understanding; perhaps she just liked wolves, Gretel supposed. It was stocked with expensive electronic appliances and decorated in dark colors and abstract pieces of art. Everything was vivid and bold, all sharp angles and straight lines.
"His place needs softening and smoothing," she murmured drowsily, for the food and the early afternoon heat were making her a bit sleepy. "It needs a woman's ipresence/i."
"You say something, baby?" asked The Wolf.
"Wolfy, dear, could we talk seriously, please?"
"No, baby, don't ruin a perfect moment, okay?"
"No, Wolfy, we simply must. Although this was very enjoyable just now, a girl does have to look to her future. A girl does need a commitment. I want you to tell me something. Just where are we going in our relationship?"
___
"Nibble, nibble, like a mouse; who's that nibbling on my house?"
"Sorry about eating you out of house and home," mumbled Hansel with his mouth full of gingerbread, adding, under his breath, "you evil, ugly witch." He gingerly tore off a chunk from the roof, which sloped down sharply, nearly all the way to the ground. "It's just that I haven't had any lunch today and only a miserable bowl of instant oatmeal for breakfast since my conniving step-mom is too lazy to cook us a proper… ack! Ack!"
His choked on his gingerbread, for he had finally turned to see the witch who had come out of her edible dwelling. She may have been evil, but she certainly was not ugly. She wore a sleek, black dress with purple patches of color on the short skirt; tights with wide black and purple stripes; shiny black boots; a leather choker studded with small, silver spikes; and a conical witch hat, colored, like her skirt, in black with purple patches. She had full, scarlet lips and long, raven hair that spiraled carelessly down in wide curls onto her bare shoulders.
Her mysterious, viridian eyes sparkled playfully, observing him with amused interest. Finally deciding to take pity on him, she tossed her broomstick aside, turned Hansel around, wrapped her arms around him, and punched her tiny fists into his abdomen, driving the gingerbread out of his windpipe.
"Th-thanks," Hansel gasped, leaning with one hand against the side of her house. "Thanks for saving my life. Wow, you're pretty. What's your name? I'm Hansel."
"I'm Cassandra," she replied. She reached out and ruffled his hair. "You're kind of cute, in a lost, lonely puppy-dog sort of way. I could just eat you up!"
"Um, you look really nice, too," said Hansel, fetching her broomstick for her. "Cassandra? Can I call you Sandy?"
"No, you can call me Cassandra." The witch opened her gingerbread front door. "If you're hungry, come on in. I was just cooking lunch."
Hansel followed her inside, mesmerized by the swaying of her hips and the swishing of her skirt. "Have a seat," she invited, waving a hand at her couch. "You can watch some TV until it's ready."
"Um, thanks," said Hansel, hunting around the cushions for the remote. He clicked until he found a sports talk show. He sighed with pleasure. The screen was much larger than the dinky set in the living room back home and the even dinkier set in his bedroom!
"What are you cooking in there, Cassandra?" asked Hansel, turning away as the program went to commercial. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious, although an uncomfortable image of bat wings and eye of newt did flit through his head.
Cassandra busily stirred a black pot on her stove. "Spaghetti and meatballs," she announced. "I'll add the oregano and other spices in a couple minutes. Most people put them in at the beginning with the rest of the ingredients, but that's a mistake; you should add those thirty minutes before the end of cooking."
More than thirty minutes before lunch would be ready! Well, that gave Hansel a chance to take in his surroundings. The inside of the gingerbread cottage was very cozy, he decided. The curtains were too pink and the couch had a flower pattern, but he could easily change that.
"The only problem is that I just met her," he mused. "Oh, well, I suppose they'll tolerate me at home for just a little longer until things move along with Cassandra. In the meantime, though, it might not hurt to prepare her mind for my eventual moving in by asking her a few subtle questions."
"Did you say something?" called out Cassandra from the stove.
"I was just wondering about something. Don't you ever get lonely, living way out here all by yourself?"
"Well, I don't stay shut up at home all the time," she laughed. "Although I do like my solitude, I go out with friends on occasion. Also, The Wolf stops by from time to time, and he's ve-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ery good company."
Hansel frowned, imagining the bNO WOLVES ALLOWED/b sign he was going to put up, first thing. "But aren't you frightened when you are by yourself?"
"Who would want to hurt me?" she asked. "I'm really very nice!"
"But what if some burglars broke in and tied you up?"
"Well, if they tied me up I would be in trouble," she conceded, "but they would have to manage to do that in the first place, and that's not very likely. Here, come over, I want to show you something."
Hansel came into the kitchen and then obediently followed her into the pantry. The small room had a few wooden shelves on one side, stacked with cans, boxes, and bags of food. The narrow wall at the far end had an open window, and against the third wall stood a low counter. On this counter rested numerous coils of clothesline, cut into various lengths, as well as several wide rolls of tape and a couple strips of old cloth.
"I wonder what those could be for?" puzzled Hansel. "It certainly would make things convenient for any burglars who did show up!"
Cassandra guessed what he was thinking, but did not attempt to enlighten him. "Come over here, you little lost stray," she told him, gesturing out the window. "See that dry old blackberry bush there? Watch this!" She muttered a word and waved an arm, releasing a fireball that flew out the window and consumed the dried bush in five seconds.
"Holy smoke!" exclaimed Hansel.
"Indeed. As long as my arms are free, I'm quite safe from any burglars who make the mistake of breaking into here!"
"Hmm," mused Hansel, glancing over at the coiled ropes that seemed to be calling out to him invitingly.
Cassandra hopped up on her wooden stepladder to reach a package of spaghetti pasta from the top shelf, and Hansel, recognizing his opportunity, snatched a coil of the thin, white rope from behind her. It would be just the right length, he observed happily, to bind Cassandra's wrists. As the witch stepped off her small ladder, Hansel acted quickly before he could change his mind.
A wrestling match ensued. Cassandra was caught by surprise, however. She was also used to defending herself by casting spells, and Hansel immobilized her arms first. So, while it took time and effort, Hansel eventually did succeed in tying the wicked witch, binding her arms and legs.
"I will get my arms free eventually," Cassandra promised him, bending and twisting her torso and legs energetically. "When I do, which do you hate worse, fire, ice, or lightning?" She was going to say more, but seeing that Hans had one of the strips of cloth in his hand abruptly pressed her lips together.
Hans pinched her nose closed, so she clenched her jaw and opened her lips, breathing through her teeth.
"Forget the packing," decided Hansel, releasing her nose. She pressed her lips together again as Hansel tore off a couple strips of tape, which he pasted across her mouth.
"I don't what you think you're doing, but whatever you have planned, it won't work," Cassandra assured him. Her voice was muffled and indistinct; some of the sounds were unclear, but Hansel understood the gist of what she said.
"Oh, I think it will," he replied, trying to sound confident, although a squeak in his voice betrayed his nervousness. He lifted her up with both arms and carried her through the kitchen. He looked with regret at the bubbling pot of red sauce on the stove. It smelled better than ever, but unfortunately, he had no idea which spices to add, or for that matter, how to boil the strands of spaghetti. He could do without, though; Cassandra doubtless had some leftovers in the refrigerator, he reasoned, that he could eat for his lunch.
He placed the witch on the couch. "You have a really nice place here," he told her. He had tied her ankles together around her boots, but feeling that might not be secure, untied those ropes, removed her long boots, and tied her ankles again around the stockings. Not that she kept her feet still for the process, but her kicking her heels could not stop him. "It's so nice, in fact, that I've decided to move in with you."
"I don't remember agreeing to that."
"You didn't; that's why I tied you up. And you're going to stay tied up until you do."
___
iWhumpff, whumpff, whumpff./i
A gingerbread doorknocker makes a rather unusual sound, so it took Hansel a couple seconds to realize someone was at the front door.
"Oh, it's you," he said unpleasantly. "Well, Cassandra's busy with me, so you can…"
"Hey, great to see you again, what's-your-name," announced The Wolf, breezing on by Hansel. He carried the picnic basket in one hand and held Gretel, slung over his shoulder, with his other. She was still bound and barefoot, although she was now gagged as well, cloth packing in her mouth and The Wolf's necktie, dark blue with broad silver and thin red stripes, gagging her. She swung her legs listlessly into his chest, feeling very glad she had donned shorts rather than a skirt that morning.
"Hi, Wolfy," Cassandra greeted him, as The Wolf settled Gretel on the couch and then seated himself between the two bound damsels. He put one arm around each of their shoulders, and sighed contentedly.
"What's the big idea, tying up my sister?!" demanded Hansel.
"Is Gretel your sister?" asked The Wolf in surprise. "She told me once that she had a brother, but I didn't know it was you; she must've gotten all the good genes, I guess."
"And what do you mean by gagging her as well?!"
"I wasn't going to, at first," admitted The Wolf. "But you see, the thing is, she started talking about stuff that's, well, it's too awful to repeat, actually. So rather than let her go on about it, I gagged her and decided we would call on Sandy to give Gretel a chance to clear her head."
"Wolfy, honey, could you do me a favor?" asked Cassandra.
"Sure, baby, anything for you." The Wolf had considerable experience dealing with gagged damsels, so he had no trouble understanding Cassandra even with the thin strips of tape across her mouth.
"Could you untie me, please?"
"NO!" shouted Hansel, but it was too late. What had taken him many minutes to do took The Wolf mere seconds to undo, as he used his sharp claws to cut the ropes.
"Mmm, thank you," purred Cassandra, peeling the tape from her face. She leaned over on the couch, rewarding The Wolf with an embrace and a kiss.
"Mmm," replied The Wolf, wagging his tail happily.
"Mpfff!" seethed Gretel.
"Get your lips off my girl!" shouted Hansel. He wanted to run up to separate the pair, but seeing that Cassandra waving her arm, dashed out the front door instead, slamming it (rather ineffectively) behind him.
He stared at the closed door, wondering if he dared go back in again, when it suddenly opened. "Here you go," said The Wolf, depositing Gretel on the doorstep next to him and firmly shutting the door.
He opened it again a couple seconds later. "Sorry, I almost forgot," added The Wolf, dropping Gretel's shoes and socks. The door closed yet again and this time did not reopen.
"Why did you have to show up?" demanded Hansel, untying the necktie from his sister's face and tossing it onto a nearby blackberry bush. "I had things just about set until you came along and ruined things."
"What about me?" countered Gretel. "I lost my chance thanks to you tying up that witch so that Wolfy rescued her. And worse yet, I'm being untied by my own brother instead of some cute guy."
"I could always leave you like this," hinted Hansel.
"Don't you dare!"
"Come on sister, let's go home," sighed Hansel. "It's been a bad day for both of us."
"At least it can't get any worse," she agreed, standing up.
___
Unfortunately, though, it did.
Their first clue that all was not well came when they discovered a large sign in front of their house, bFOR SALE - North Country Real Estate, Inc./b Several cardboard boxes filled with their clothing and personal effects were stacked on the lawn. They rang the doorbell and peered through all the windows, but it was clear the house was empty.
"I can't believe Dad and Millie-Helen moved away without telling us anything," groaned Hansel, sitting on his pile of boxes. "How could they not at least leave a note, telling us where we're living now? It was pretty careless of them to forget to do that." He opened his cell phone to call his father, and then frowned at receiving his voicemail.
"Don't bother," sighed his sister, sitting on her own pile of boxes and gently closing her brother's phone before he could leave a message. "Somehow I don't think they 'forgot' to do that."