Disclaimer: The plot, Stacey and her mother are mine. The Nursery Rhyme characters and their respective poems belong to their respective creators.

Summary: Originally written as a play by me and some friends for our practical drama exam. You thought Nursery Rhymes were fun? Think Again…

Nursery Rhyme Nightmare : Chapter Two

Not long after the incident with Jack and the Tweedle-Twins, (as Stacey had mentally named them) not to mention Jill and the Little Girl with the Curl, Stacey was walking over a field when she was almost knocked over by a boy with the word 'SIMPLE' tattooed on his forehead. She had just opened her mouth to ask his name when he grabbed her by the shoulders. "Quick! Do you know if there is anywhere I can hide?"

Stacey shook her head, "No, I just got here myself. What is going on? Who are you?"

The boy winced. "Name's Simple Simon. Let's just say a few things got taken way out of context."

He winced again and tried to hide behind Stacey as a crowd of people came running into view. As they came closer Stacey was startled to make out a Pieman, a large bird, and a group of people holding 'Save the Whales' signs.

Stacey's eyes widened as she tried to think of a good escape route. Mobs were never good. Maybe if she just handed Simon over quietly…?

Luckily, Stacey was spared that choice when the mob came to a screeching halt in front of her. The Pieman held up a Megaphone. "It's all right, Kid. Hand over the boy, and nobody has to get hurt."

A very audible gulp from behind her told Stacey that Simon was not in favour of that idea. Still, Stacey wasn't keen on getting flattened by a mob, either. "Look, I'm lost here and I just want to get home. Why are you all after Simon, anyway?"

The mob erupted in shouts, then quietened down at the Pieman's glare. The Pieman looked back at Stacey. "The little runt ate one of my best blueberry pies, then wouldn't give my the penny!"

Then the bird chimed in, speaking with an Australian accent. "He threw a bucket of salt on me! What does he think I am, a bloody serve of chook and chips?"

Stacey opened her mouth to comment but was cut off by one of the sign holders. "He was trying to catch a whale and hold it in an inadequate confined area! That's against both Green peace and the International Whaling Laws!"

By now, Simon seemed to have regained enough courage to stop using Stacey as a shield. "I'm supposed to be Simple! Of course I'm a bit dim-witted! Anyway, Pies sell for way more than a penny these days, I thought you were joking and it was just a cover for free hand-outs!"

Simon turned to the Bird and the whaling protestors. "Is it my fault I was stupid enough to believe my brother when he said all I had to do was throw salt on a bird's tail and it would follow me home? And it was only a joke! Does anyone actually believe that even a baby whale would fit in a wooden bucket?"

During the exchange, Stacey had been slowly backing away. When the crowd growled at Simple Simon's reply, she decided that discretion was defiantly the better part of Valour, and made a run for it.

Looking back to see Simple Simon doing the same, followed by the mob, Stacey quickly set off in a different direction. "They defiantly weren't very nice."

Still nervous from the dilemma with Simple Simon, Stacey nearly passed out when she reached a town, and instantly saw another mob chasing a boy in pyjamas and a dressing robe.

The boy reached a streetlight and climbed up the pole faster than Stacey would have thought possible. The pole was instantly surrounded by the mob, which Stacey could now see consisted of eight- nine- and ten-year-olds and young adults in late-night-clubbing clothes.

The boy up the pole caught sight of Stacey, who was keeping a careful distance. "Hey, Kid! I'm Wee Willy Winky, HELP!"

Stacey hesitated as the crowd all started chanting, "FALL! FALL! FALL! FALL!"

Now worried about Wee Willy Winky, Stacey ran to the nearest eight-year-old and grabbed their shoulder. "Hey, what's going on here?"

The child barely acknowledged her. "Wee Willy Winky is mean and nasty and I don't like him!"

Wee Willy Winky glared and shouted down from where he was clinging to the pole. "Hey, it isn't my fault that I have to go around ordering people to bed! I'm just the scapegoat lackey! Blame old Mother Goose!"

The crowd obviously didn't want excuses. A nine-year-old shook his fist, yelling "We don't want to go to bed early!"

He was quickly joined by a ten-year-old girl, equally outraged. "Yeah, We're old enough to stay up late! Only little kids have to go to bed before eight."

Wee Willy Winky's shouted response was no nicer. "You run around like this, people are going to think that you act like infants who need to be sent to bed early! Besides, a long night's sleep is good for you!"

One of the adolescents gave a derisive snort. "As if! How do you expect to have a proper party if everyone has to be in bed by Seven- thirty?"

Wee Willy Winky's reply was lost in the roar of agreement. Someone threw a pillow at Wee Willy Winky, knocking him off the pole. The crowd grabbed him and rushed away, thankfully in the opposite direction.

Stacey debated going after them, but eventually decided against it. The mob was too far away by now, and even if it wasn't, how much good would she have been able to do?

Stacey continued through the town, occasionally stopping to check that there were no other mobs in sight or hearing range. It was a pity that the people who wrote these Nursery Rhymes were mostly dead by now, or at least not here. Right now, Stacey would have truly enjoyed giving several of them a good kick up the rear.

Looking over her shoulder again, Stacey walked straight into a wall. There was a yell and a crash, and the next thing she knew, a five-foot-tall painted egg with arms and legs was lying in several pieces at her feet. The piece with eyes, ears, mouth and nose spotted her and started yelling.

Stacey gasped. "Oh, my God! I'm so sorry! Are you all right? Can I help? Who are you?"

The eggshell face paled, then reddened. "I'm Humpty Dumpty, and no! You can't help! You've done enough damage, you little half-wit! Keep away from me!"

The eggshell pieces with arms attached tried to move toward each other, but soon gave up. Still panicking, Stacey's brain failed to register the 'keep away from me.' She moved closer, still babbling. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I just want to find my way home and I wasn't looking where I was going and I didn't mean to bump into your wall and … OW!"

Stacey backed away as the face glared and one of the arms tried to pinch her. "I said I was sorry. Are you sure I can't do anything to help you?"

Humpty Dumpty glared at her. "Very sure. Just leave before you do any more damage." he started muttering under his breath. "Stupid wall. Stupid kids who never listen. 'Walk, don't run', they say. But do the little menaces ever listen? No. Nightmares on two legs they are…"

Seeing what looked like a squadron of royal guards on horseback headed in their direction, Stacey quickly walked off.

"He wasn't very nice either."

Finally, Stacey wound up back at the Hill. Thinking that she could at least get a sense of direction if she was higher up, Stacey began climbing the Hill.

Sure enough, when she reached the well at the top of the hill, Stacey could see all of Nursery Rhyme Land spread out before her. Taking a few steps back for a clearer view, Stacey bumped into the edge of the well and fell over backwards, toppling down into the black shaft with a shriek, cut off when she hit the water. "Help! Glubble glub glub!"

Back in a small house, in a small town, Stacey's mother walked into the laundry with a basket of washing, wondering about the silence from her daughter's room. Normally, by now Stacey would be throwing a large tantrum about nursery rhyme deprivation. Stacey's mother wondered if she should be worried or not.

Either way, she was shaken out of her thoughts by a loud banging noise from inside the washing machine. Dropping her basket and running over, Stacey's mother threw open the lid, stepping back in surprise when her daughter popped out, spluttering.

Stacey coughed out water as she looked up at her shocked mother, who promptly cried, "Stacey, what on earth are you doing in the washing machine?"

Stacey winced. What to say to that? Ah, well, best to go with the truth. "I fell asleep reading and woke up in Nursery Rhyme Land. I met Humpty Dumpty and Little Miss Muffet and Jill and they were all very mean and not at all like they are in books, and then I fell down the well and landed in the washing machine."

Stacey's mother blinked. Perhaps she should be worried after all. "Okay." Just as long as Stacey didn't start speaking in verse…

Stacey began to wonder at her mother's dazed look. "I'm sorry, Mum, for being mad, I know that Nursery Rhymes are bad. They pushed me around and aren't my friends, I thought the nightmare would never end."

Oh, dear… Stacey's mother sighed inwardly. Perhaps therapy? "I'm glad you've learned your lesson then."

Stacey nodded vigorously and hugged her. "Yes Mum, I'll never disobey you again."

The Moral of this tale is clearly said,

'Don't let Nursery Rhymes go to your head.'

It never gets better and always gets worse,

As lovely day dreams turn into a curse.

Listen to your parents and don't start to whine,

Or you'll end up in a Nursery Rhyme!

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THE END

A/N - So, what do people think?

This is my first attempt at Fairy Tales / Nursery Rhymes so constructive criticism is always appreciated.

If you want to see the original script version, you can either message me and I'll send it to you, or visit my profile on Like it, Hate it or don't give a damn, tell me in a review.

Thanks, Nathalia.