A/n: Yeah this is based on the Hansel and Gretel story, from a new
perspective. And yes, I use the name of The-Show-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named,
which thank God is now over so my friends are getting on with their lives.
Anyway, hope ya like my sad little story! And whether u like it or hate
its guts, pleeease r/r!!
CHAPTER ONE - In Which Two Overly Exasperated Parents Concoct A Somewhat Evil But Completely Necessary Plan
One dark, cold night, a mother and father sat next the fireplace and sighed.
The mother and father were covered in food remains, from watermelon seeds to spaghetti noodles to chocolate sauce. They had huge circles under their eyes and looked as though they had not slept for years (nine and a half years, to be exact).
From the upper level of their house, shrieks, bangs, and the occasional splintering glass could be heard. The parents stared at each other for a moment, the father with a sorrowful stare and the mother with a cruel one, then gazed back into the fireplace as if the cheerful orange flames could solve their problems.
They couldn't.
The parents sighed again, even deeper this time.
"Where did we go wrong?" moaned the father, suddenly dropping his bedraggled head into his hands.
"I think it really started to get bad when you bought them their own pools. Or maybe when you got the two walk-in refrigerators. Maybe it could have been when you hired them personal cooks and tailors. Or when-"
"ALRIGHT!" whined the father. "I get the point. But I never meant to spoil them. I just wanted to let them experience the happy childhood that I never got."
"AND ENCOURAGED THEM TO MILK US FOR ALL WE'RE WORTH!!" bellowed the mother. She had reached her full anger point now, and there was no shutting her up. "LOOK AT US!! WE GO AROUND IN FEED SACKS, EATING DUST FROM INSIDE THE VACUUM, WHILE THEY WEAR SILKS AND FURS AND SNEER AT CAVIAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
The father stared at her in a shocked silence. "Have you been watching reality TV again?" The mother looked sheepish. "Because I TOLD you that you get WAY too dramatic and WAY too whiny and WAY too scary and that stuff just ROTS your BRAIN and before you even KNOW it"- But she cut into his lecture on the evils of realistic television (yes, that lecture was also to all you readers out there who watch reality TV as well! Stop now! Your mind is slowly evaporating! You known who you are....).
Anyways, the mother cut into this well-deserved speech as a resounding crash sounded just outside the kitchen door. "Well, there's no chance of my watching a n y m o r e, because our TV was just tossed out the 3rd-story window..." she said.
The father sank to his knees, howling, "Noooooooooooo!! American Idol is on tonight!!!"
She gave him a dagger-filled glare.
"Um, ahem." The father tried to recompose himself. "I just like watching Simon insult people! Honest!"
The mother gave him another withering glance, but slunk to the floor. "Oh, I don't feel like fighting with you tonight. I just want to get away from those spawn of satan that are currently destroying the 3rd floor."
The father looked confused. ". I thought they were children."
This caused the mother to ask the ceiling, "What did I do to deserve this?", and the father to gaze mournfully out the window as his karaoke machine hit the ground and splintered into a quadrillion pieces of glittery plastic. He let out a small sob.
At the sound, the mother suddenly straightened. She stared ahead with new steely eyes that sparkled evilly in the firelight.
The father shivered. The flames of damnation dancing in her eyes weren't exactly the most comforting sight. All he wanted to do was go outside and gather the remnants of his beloved karaoke machine in his arms, then carry them off into the woods until he found a suitable grave space..
She interrupted his wistful thoughts. "I have a plan."
The father smiled. Maybe she knew where there was a cemetery!!
"Stop those foolish karaoke thoughts! We're going to get rid of those brats once and for all.."
"But I don't REALLY want to get rid of them..." sighed the father.
At that moment, a young boy appeared at the foot of the stairs. He was v. angelic, with golden locks of hair that fell over his bright blue eyes. His mouth had a hint of a smile about it, and his cute little nose twitched like a baby rabbit's.
Suddenly, the smile turned to a horrible sneer, the eyes gleamed viciously, and he let out a terrible cry that reminded the father of one particularly dreadful contestant on A.I. Before the father could form another thought in his tired brain, the boy shot through the kitchen, taking a direct route though the poor man's stomach. He let out an emourmous "Ooooph!!" as the boy barreled into him, then ran back up the stairs from which he had just descended.
As the father lay on the floor and tried to remember how to breathe, a distant cry echoed down the stairs: "TOLD ya, Gretel! I told ya I could knock the old pig over!"
The mother peered down at her husband, who lay gasping on the floor.
And his last words, before he reached blissful unconsciousness, where his karaoke machine was shiny and beautiful and he was the new American Idol and children did not exist, were, "Tomorrow."
The mother smiled, then went to the telephone and dialed 1-800-RENT-A- WITCH.
*sorry if this chapter seems too sadistic!! I am highly sleep-deprived!! If you r/r, I will write the next chronicle in the lives of the evil children Hansel and Gretel!
CHAPTER ONE - In Which Two Overly Exasperated Parents Concoct A Somewhat Evil But Completely Necessary Plan
One dark, cold night, a mother and father sat next the fireplace and sighed.
The mother and father were covered in food remains, from watermelon seeds to spaghetti noodles to chocolate sauce. They had huge circles under their eyes and looked as though they had not slept for years (nine and a half years, to be exact).
From the upper level of their house, shrieks, bangs, and the occasional splintering glass could be heard. The parents stared at each other for a moment, the father with a sorrowful stare and the mother with a cruel one, then gazed back into the fireplace as if the cheerful orange flames could solve their problems.
They couldn't.
The parents sighed again, even deeper this time.
"Where did we go wrong?" moaned the father, suddenly dropping his bedraggled head into his hands.
"I think it really started to get bad when you bought them their own pools. Or maybe when you got the two walk-in refrigerators. Maybe it could have been when you hired them personal cooks and tailors. Or when-"
"ALRIGHT!" whined the father. "I get the point. But I never meant to spoil them. I just wanted to let them experience the happy childhood that I never got."
"AND ENCOURAGED THEM TO MILK US FOR ALL WE'RE WORTH!!" bellowed the mother. She had reached her full anger point now, and there was no shutting her up. "LOOK AT US!! WE GO AROUND IN FEED SACKS, EATING DUST FROM INSIDE THE VACUUM, WHILE THEY WEAR SILKS AND FURS AND SNEER AT CAVIAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
The father stared at her in a shocked silence. "Have you been watching reality TV again?" The mother looked sheepish. "Because I TOLD you that you get WAY too dramatic and WAY too whiny and WAY too scary and that stuff just ROTS your BRAIN and before you even KNOW it"- But she cut into his lecture on the evils of realistic television (yes, that lecture was also to all you readers out there who watch reality TV as well! Stop now! Your mind is slowly evaporating! You known who you are....).
Anyways, the mother cut into this well-deserved speech as a resounding crash sounded just outside the kitchen door. "Well, there's no chance of my watching a n y m o r e, because our TV was just tossed out the 3rd-story window..." she said.
The father sank to his knees, howling, "Noooooooooooo!! American Idol is on tonight!!!"
She gave him a dagger-filled glare.
"Um, ahem." The father tried to recompose himself. "I just like watching Simon insult people! Honest!"
The mother gave him another withering glance, but slunk to the floor. "Oh, I don't feel like fighting with you tonight. I just want to get away from those spawn of satan that are currently destroying the 3rd floor."
The father looked confused. ". I thought they were children."
This caused the mother to ask the ceiling, "What did I do to deserve this?", and the father to gaze mournfully out the window as his karaoke machine hit the ground and splintered into a quadrillion pieces of glittery plastic. He let out a small sob.
At the sound, the mother suddenly straightened. She stared ahead with new steely eyes that sparkled evilly in the firelight.
The father shivered. The flames of damnation dancing in her eyes weren't exactly the most comforting sight. All he wanted to do was go outside and gather the remnants of his beloved karaoke machine in his arms, then carry them off into the woods until he found a suitable grave space..
She interrupted his wistful thoughts. "I have a plan."
The father smiled. Maybe she knew where there was a cemetery!!
"Stop those foolish karaoke thoughts! We're going to get rid of those brats once and for all.."
"But I don't REALLY want to get rid of them..." sighed the father.
At that moment, a young boy appeared at the foot of the stairs. He was v. angelic, with golden locks of hair that fell over his bright blue eyes. His mouth had a hint of a smile about it, and his cute little nose twitched like a baby rabbit's.
Suddenly, the smile turned to a horrible sneer, the eyes gleamed viciously, and he let out a terrible cry that reminded the father of one particularly dreadful contestant on A.I. Before the father could form another thought in his tired brain, the boy shot through the kitchen, taking a direct route though the poor man's stomach. He let out an emourmous "Ooooph!!" as the boy barreled into him, then ran back up the stairs from which he had just descended.
As the father lay on the floor and tried to remember how to breathe, a distant cry echoed down the stairs: "TOLD ya, Gretel! I told ya I could knock the old pig over!"
The mother peered down at her husband, who lay gasping on the floor.
And his last words, before he reached blissful unconsciousness, where his karaoke machine was shiny and beautiful and he was the new American Idol and children did not exist, were, "Tomorrow."
The mother smiled, then went to the telephone and dialed 1-800-RENT-A- WITCH.
*sorry if this chapter seems too sadistic!! I am highly sleep-deprived!! If you r/r, I will write the next chronicle in the lives of the evil children Hansel and Gretel!