Once upon a time, there was a shop in Victorian London that sold pastries. It was ran by a science-obsessed cross-dresser convinced that Transylvania was its own galaxy – not just a country, along with his lover. His lover, named Regina, was convinced that not only did she run the town, as she was London's mayor at the time, but that she also possessed magical powers.
For 1800s London, they were very taboo. Only the brave or grotesquely macabre set foot in the shop, let alone actually ordered anything. As the religion of the time strongly suggested commoners were in possession the magicks of God or the Devil, so it was understandable why some people would be prone to think the crazed couple would find a way to turn people into the pastries.
On one particular morning, a dreadfully drunken customer appeared in the shop. She had been living on the streets, driven to prostitution to earn money for herself. The money was turned right around into feeding her addiction that being a prostitute gave her. It was a vicious circle. She walked up to the counter instead the shop, Once Upon A Pastry. She rapped on the wood loudly. "I want a hit of rum! I want a hit of rum!"
"This is a pastry shop, Ms. Sweet," he-who-dresses-as-she informed. He-who-dresses-as-she recognized the woman, as Regina, as London's mayor and his lover, had many-a-time shooed her hung-over self from the back porch.
"But ev'ryone's got alcohol on 'em!" Ms. Sweet protested. "At least gin! Ya got some o' that at the very least, right?"
Regina heard the wench and came in from the kitchen. She cackled manically. "Oh, it's you! Whore alcoholic like you 'as no brains at all." She smirked at her lover, Frankie. He raised an eyebrow in inquiry. He didn't know what it was that made women think their minds could be easily read. Regina stalked over and whispered into his ear. He grinned and giggled.
"Actually, Ms. Sweet…" He put on a charming smile. "I do believe we have some gin in the back." He lead her into the depths of the kitchen.
About three hours later, a fat, greasy old man who believed he was at least two centuries from the future burst into the shop. "Where's Amba!" He hacked and coughed as if infected by tuberculosis.
"Sir?" asked Regina, amused and also confused.
"I saw 'er! Was gonna bring us some wine, then…then we was gonna have some fun!"
Before Regina had the chance to comment that he should leave his lewd fantasies in his head, a very Italian, very violent man catapulted himself through the shop's window, shattering the glass.
Frankie smiled sadistically and exchanged a knowing look with Regina.
"WHERE-A DEM-A HOS-A AT?" screeched Luigi, who was picking himself off the floor.
"I believe you left them all outside," Frankie stated calmly.
Luigi caught sight of Rotti. "You-a! Greaseball-a! You eat-a one of mah hos-a? I know-a ya like-a gettin' inta their knickers, but there is-a a line!"
"I was just lookin' for Amba!" Rotti protested innocently. "I didn't do nut'in! She neva showed up…But now that you mention it, I am awfully hungry."
A ding was heard.
"What a coincidence you mention that," stated Frankie. "We've just finished baking a pastry."
Rotti began rubbing his large buddah-belly. "Mmm…" He licked his lips. He was starting to drool.
"That'll be twenty pounds, sir," Regina stated.
Rotti started digging in his pockets. Meanwhile, Frankie disappeared into the depths of the kitchen. Rotti found pence and was counting out pence by pence up to twenty pounds as Frankie returned. With him was what looked like the biggest pink-frosting covered doughnut known to man.
"Oh, I didn't mean the cost, sir. Ya can have this for free," Regina told Rotti. "I meant it weighs twenty pounds."
Both Rotti and Luigi's eyes grew as large as saucers. They both ran and jumped up onto it, eating their hearts out.
While they were busy gorging themselves, Frankie and Regina disappeared into the kitchen. They worked together to roll out a large lazer sitting on top of rolling cart. With a couple zaps, Rotti and Luigi were now large, delicious pastries, melded into the doughnut that had once been Amber Sweet. Rotti had been turned into a large chocolate muffin, and Luigi had been turned into a long cookie straw sticking out of the doughnut.
Frankie and Regina wheeled the lazer back into the kitchen. When they returned, there were suddenly many who were eager to buy their pastries. The large, scrumptious display of the oversized pastry was in full view of the public because the window had been all smashed in. Everyone wanted a taste.
Frankie and Regina's business had never had a bigger boom. The shop grew fame all across Europe. The phenomenon became what would be known as the Black Plague.
Emma Swan closed the book and looked down at Henry, her eyebrows cocked in an expression of disbelief. "Seriously?" she asked. "This is the book you think everyone from Storybrooke was a character in, in some past life?"