4.
.oOo.
~ Maplestiltskin ~
.oOo.
Once upon a time, there lived a man named Francis. He lived a miserable life, as he was dirt-poor, owned a shabby cottage in an old, run-down village, and had the great misfortune of looking after a wretched boy named Alfred.
One day, Francis decided that he wanted to meet with the king, named Arthur, so that he could recognise the king's greatness and beg for mercy for his pitiless self.
However, in order to make himself seem more important to the king (which he should have known would be bloody impossible, as the git was nothing more than a sodding twat), Francis told the king a little lie: that his son, Alfred, possessed the ability to spin straw into gold.
King Arthur, known for being one of the only people in the kingdom to possess some ounce of common sense, did not believe Francis at first, of course. And so he demanded that Alfred be sent to the palace the next day, when the king would test his skills.
The next day, when Alfred was brought to him, King Arthur put the boy in a room full of straw and a spinning wheel, and told him that if he hadn't spun the straw into gold by the next morning, he must die.
Arthur then locked the door to the room, leaving Alfred alone inside. Alas, the lad had no idea what to do, as he had never spun straw into gold before. Fearing for his life, Alfred began to cry.
Suddenly, the door opened, and in strolled a man who bore a quite striking resemblance to Alfred.
Alfred was taken by surprise as he took in the new-comer's appearance.
"Hey, I know who you are," he said. "You're–...you're… I can't seem to remember your name…"
The new-comer appeared bored, as if he'd grown accustomed to this.
"That's not important," he said, waving it off with a hand. "Now, why were you crying?"
"I have to spin all this straw into gold, because my no-good Frenchy frog of a father said to the king that I could do so despite the fact that I can't, and now, if I don't, I will die!"
The new-comer paused for a second, in thought.
"Perhaps I could do it for you," he said to Alfred. "But for a price. What do you have to offer?"
"Well," Alfred felt around in his pockets for anything that could be of use. "I have this small vial of maple syrup, if you want it…"
"Yes! I'll take it!" the new-comer immediately snatched the vial out of Alfred's hand, the overly-eager look on his face almost scaring the lad. "Leave the spinning to me."
And so the man magically spun the straw into gold and left as soon as the deed was done, and when morning came, the king was aghast.
Surely Alfred didn't know how to work powers of dark magic… As far as he knew, Arthur was the only one who possessed that particular ability.
So then, how…?
Not yet fully believing that something strange wasn't happening, Arthur decided to keep Alfred three more days to prove his skills.
He moved Alfred into a new room, this one filled with three times as much straw as the last, and once more told him that he must spin all the straw into gold in three days' time or he must die.
Just like the night before, soon after Alfred was locked inside the room, the door opened, and the new-comer strolled in.
"You have to help me out again," Alfred begged of the man. "Please, can you spin all this straw into gold for me?"
"Well, as I said before, there must be a price," the other said. "What do you have to offer?"
Alfred dug through his pockets again, only, this time, they appeared to be empty.
"I don't have anything to offer you right now," Alfred said. "But, if you do this, I promise I'll grab you a burger afterward!"
Grimacing at the mention of the disgusting food, the other man shook his head.
"I'm afraid that won't work," he said. "But I'll make you a deal. I'll spin this straw into gold for you if you can guess my name in three days' time."
"Oh, that's easy," Alfred said in relief. "I already know your name! It's… Um, it's..."
The other man's expression grew dull again.
"Well, I know it starts with a C…" Alfred said. "Or with a K… right?"
"Like I said," the man crossed his arms. "I'll give you three days' time."
The man walked back out the door, leaving Alfred alone once more.
So Alfred thought the whole night of all the names he had ever heard, feeling as if the man's name was on the tip of his tongue.
When the man returned the next day, Alfred said all the names he'd thought of, one after the other, but to every one the man shook his head.
"Ca...mouflage? Kan...sas? Copacabana? Canabanana–"
"No!"
On the second day, Alfred had thought long and hard, and he was sure he'd figured out the man's name.
"It's Canadia, isn't it?" he said when the man appeared in his room. "Admit it! I got it right, didn't I?"
"No," the man responded once again.
"What do you mean, 'no'?" Alfred demanded. "I know your name is Canadia! You know your name is Canadia!"
"My name isn't Canadia," the man said. "But don't worry; you still have one more day. Surely you'll be able to think of it by then."
On the third day, the man returned, and asked of Alfred,
"Now then. This is your final chance. What is my name?"
This time, Alfred appeared ready.
"I've got it," he said, eyes bright with glee. "This time, I'm sure of it. I know your name!"
"Well," the other said. "What is it, then?"
"Your name is…"
Alfred paused, for dramatic effect.
"America."
Silence rang throughout the room for a brief moment, before it was interrupted with the man's cries of frustration.
"No!" he said. "No, no, no!"
Alfred was taken aback.
"Wait, what–"
"My name is Canada, you oaf! Ca-na-da! Get it? Six letters, three syllables! It is not that hard!"
In utter frustration, Canada stormed out of the room and slammed the door, leaving Alfred behind in a room that was still filled with un-spun straw.
And so, when the king found that the straw hadn't been spun into gold, Alfred was swiftly put to death.
All because he couldn't remember the name of poor old… Can… C-Cana… Whatever the lad was called.
The End.