Bashful's Tale -- Part 2
The water was cold but I wasn’t thinking about that. I was thinking about her and how incredibly beautiful she was. I didn’t much mind washing up if it meant keeping one as lovely as her happy. I didn’t know about the rest of the boys but I for one didn’t want her to leave.
When we returned to the cabin she had a stew going on the fire. It smelled wonderful, nothing like the vile stuff we cooked for ourselves. She’d found a loaf of bread that hadn’t ruined yet and she’d sliced it and placed it on a tray. While we’d been washing up she’d washed every dish in the place. No small task that. The table was set all nice, with candles even, like we was royalty. A princess that could put a house in order like a scullery maid or cook, will wonders never cease?
“Dinner is almost ready,” she said sweetly, “and you look so much nicer now. Let me see, now that you’re not all covered in dirt, if perhaps I can match each of you with the names on the beds upstairs.”
She studied us intently. Predictably I began to blush furiously under her gaze. Delighted she exclaimed, “You’re Bashful!” I couldn’t speak without stammering so I just ducked my head and nodded furiously. Grumpy snorted in disgust. “And you’re Grumpy!” she giggled. “And you’re Doc, and you’re Happy, and you’re Sleepy, and Oh my goodness! Bless you!” She exclaimed! “You must be Sneezy.” She laughed, “And that means that you have to be Dopey.” She finished. She’d not missed a one of us. “Well do come to the table, the stew smells like it is ready now.” She said. And she served us. Her. The Princess. Served the likes of us. I think that was when we all became captivated by her grace. She was a different type of girl and a very different type of princess. And we loved her. I loved her.
-- To Be Continued
Monday, January 17, 2005
Friday, January 14, 2005
Assignment #23 -- Part One
Rewrite the fairy tale, Snow White, from the point of view of Bashful, one of the seven dwarves.
Bashful’s Tale
She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Her raven hair spilled across my bed like a coverlet as she slept sprawled carelessly across four of our beds. Her long black eyelashes lay like feathers against her flawless white skin. Her blood-red lips were barely parted revealing perfect even white teeth. Grumpy, true to his name, kicked the foot of his bed. Startled, she roused. Her eyes fluttered open and she blinked sleepily at the seven of us standing there.
“Why, you’re not children at all!” She exclaimed in surprise. “You’re little men!”
“’Course we ain’t children!” Grumpy snapped. “Who said we was children?” He sputtered. “Seems to me the more important issue here is WHO are you and WHAT are you doin’ in my bed!”
A scarlet blush stained her cheeks. “I’m so very sorry!” she stammered. “It’s just that I was so very tired and frightened after my escape that I took refuge here without a thought. I shall go on my way at once.” She rose and began to gather her few belongings.
Doc spoke up then. “Oh, don’t mind Grumpy. He’s just well, grumpy. You don’t have to leave right now. Its much to late in the evening for a lady to be in the forest alone” The rest of the boys voiced their agreement. I just blushed.
I look of relief crossed her face, “Thank you! Thank you ever so much.”
“But what’s your name, child?” Doc asked. “And how did you come to end up here?”
A look of profound sadness crossed her face. “My name is Snow White. My step-mother is the queen.” She said. “This morning she sent me into the woods with the royal huntsman. He told me that she’d told him to kill me and bring her my heart in a jeweled box. He couldn’t do it. He freed me instead. He planned to kill a deer and give its heart to the queen so that she would not know I still live.” Tears coursed down her cheeks and she shuddered a bit at the memory.
“I ran for a long time. Some animals found me in the glade and they led me here. I was too weary to go any farther. If you will let me stay I promise I won’t be a moment’s trouble. I can clean and I can cook. I’ll show you! Let me cook you some dinner while you wash up.” She said.
“WASH!” the boys exclaimed in horror. How long had it been since we’d actually washed? I couldn’t recall.
“Why of course.” she said smiling, “Surely you don’t plan to eat with those dirty hands? Doc, haven’t you taught the others about germs?”
For once it was Doc and not me that got caught tongue-tied and blushing. “’Course we’ll wash! Come on boys!” He blustered. He headed out the door and down the hill to the stream. We followed along.
Grumpy grumbled, “Women! She hasn’t been here a day yet and here we are takin’ a bath! It’s not been a year since my last one! No trouble she says. HAH!”
.... To be continued.
Rewrite the fairy tale, Snow White, from the point of view of Bashful, one of the seven dwarves.
Bashful’s Tale
She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Her raven hair spilled across my bed like a coverlet as she slept sprawled carelessly across four of our beds. Her long black eyelashes lay like feathers against her flawless white skin. Her blood-red lips were barely parted revealing perfect even white teeth. Grumpy, true to his name, kicked the foot of his bed. Startled, she roused. Her eyes fluttered open and she blinked sleepily at the seven of us standing there.
“Why, you’re not children at all!” She exclaimed in surprise. “You’re little men!”
“’Course we ain’t children!” Grumpy snapped. “Who said we was children?” He sputtered. “Seems to me the more important issue here is WHO are you and WHAT are you doin’ in my bed!”
A scarlet blush stained her cheeks. “I’m so very sorry!” she stammered. “It’s just that I was so very tired and frightened after my escape that I took refuge here without a thought. I shall go on my way at once.” She rose and began to gather her few belongings.
Doc spoke up then. “Oh, don’t mind Grumpy. He’s just well, grumpy. You don’t have to leave right now. Its much to late in the evening for a lady to be in the forest alone” The rest of the boys voiced their agreement. I just blushed.
I look of relief crossed her face, “Thank you! Thank you ever so much.”
“But what’s your name, child?” Doc asked. “And how did you come to end up here?”
A look of profound sadness crossed her face. “My name is Snow White. My step-mother is the queen.” She said. “This morning she sent me into the woods with the royal huntsman. He told me that she’d told him to kill me and bring her my heart in a jeweled box. He couldn’t do it. He freed me instead. He planned to kill a deer and give its heart to the queen so that she would not know I still live.” Tears coursed down her cheeks and she shuddered a bit at the memory.
“I ran for a long time. Some animals found me in the glade and they led me here. I was too weary to go any farther. If you will let me stay I promise I won’t be a moment’s trouble. I can clean and I can cook. I’ll show you! Let me cook you some dinner while you wash up.” She said.
“WASH!” the boys exclaimed in horror. How long had it been since we’d actually washed? I couldn’t recall.
“Why of course.” she said smiling, “Surely you don’t plan to eat with those dirty hands? Doc, haven’t you taught the others about germs?”
For once it was Doc and not me that got caught tongue-tied and blushing. “’Course we’ll wash! Come on boys!” He blustered. He headed out the door and down the hill to the stream. We followed along.
Grumpy grumbled, “Women! She hasn’t been here a day yet and here we are takin’ a bath! It’s not been a year since my last one! No trouble she says. HAH!”
.... To be continued.
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
Assignment #22 -- In 200 words write about your first toy
Her name was Fussbudget. She was made of washcloths and stuffed. I'm not sure what color she was when I got her, probably white, but I always remember her being dingy gray. There wasn't much to Fussbudget. She was a simple little doll, kind of like an gingerbread man made of cloth, but she went EVERYWHERE with me. She and Brownie Bear were my constant companions and woe to the world if one of them got lost.
Fussbudget slept with me. She kept the monsters away. She went with me to doctors appointments. It wasn't so scary if she was there too. Really GOOD doctors examined her first before even touching me. I cut my teeth chewing on her. She was an ever present part of my infancy and toddlerhood.
Fussbudget lives in the top drawer of my mothers dresser now. She is still a dingy gray. She and Brownie Bear survived as reminders of my baby days and my mother cherishes them. I look at her now and wonder how she managed to do so much, calm my fears, ease my pain, be my friend, when she was nothing more than a washcloth or two sewn together and stuffed. A little scrap of love, named Fussbudget.
Her name was Fussbudget. She was made of washcloths and stuffed. I'm not sure what color she was when I got her, probably white, but I always remember her being dingy gray. There wasn't much to Fussbudget. She was a simple little doll, kind of like an gingerbread man made of cloth, but she went EVERYWHERE with me. She and Brownie Bear were my constant companions and woe to the world if one of them got lost.
Fussbudget slept with me. She kept the monsters away. She went with me to doctors appointments. It wasn't so scary if she was there too. Really GOOD doctors examined her first before even touching me. I cut my teeth chewing on her. She was an ever present part of my infancy and toddlerhood.
Fussbudget lives in the top drawer of my mothers dresser now. She is still a dingy gray. She and Brownie Bear survived as reminders of my baby days and my mother cherishes them. I look at her now and wonder how she managed to do so much, calm my fears, ease my pain, be my friend, when she was nothing more than a washcloth or two sewn together and stuffed. A little scrap of love, named Fussbudget.
Saturday, January 01, 2005
Assignment 21 -- Write a Letter to the 10 Year Old Child you had been
Dear Terri Beth,
This is going to be a tough year for you. I wish you could know what I know, looking back as I do from 26 years in the future. Perhaps though, its better that you don't.
You changed schools this year. You met two girls who will remain your friends for decades. Laura and Janet will be your best friends and your worst enemies over the next several years but when you're in your thirties you will still count them among your friends.
Be greatful for your teacher, Ms. Gallaher and for your relationship with Mr. Rascoe, your principal. Next year Mr. Rascoe will be elected superintendant and he'll leave. You'll hate the new principal, you'll also hate your 5th grade homeroom teacher. She's a bigot and she's stupid. Don't believe her when she tells you that you do third grade artwork. Don't believe her when she tells you it's not OK for you and Leon to love one another. She knows nothing. She's not worth your tears.
Speaking of tears...your Pop Honey is going to die in October. He's got lung cancer and he's going to have a heart attack. Your daddy will cry. He'll take his new pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and one by one he'll break them into the toilet and flush them away. He'll never smoke another one. When Stephanie offers you a cigarette years from now...don't take it. You'll not smoke long, less than two weeks, but you'll fight the desire for a decade. It wasn't worth it.
Your faith will be challenged next year. Stick to your convictions...GOD created the heavens and the earth. You'll get an F...but it'll be worth it.
This will be one of the last two years before your daddy leaves. Enjoy it. He'll be gone from the time you're 12 until you're 17. Treasure the times you have now.
One more thing...what B.Y. is doing to you...that's wrong. And it's not your fault. And it's NOT your responsiblity to "be nice to him". He's never going to "pay (them) what he owes" and even if he were...you don't deserve to be prostituted that way. You will eventually gain the courage to stand up to him and make him stop...but what is happening to you isn't your fault. I love you and together we'll heal from this. I promise.
Much love!
Me
Dear Terri Beth,
This is going to be a tough year for you. I wish you could know what I know, looking back as I do from 26 years in the future. Perhaps though, its better that you don't.
You changed schools this year. You met two girls who will remain your friends for decades. Laura and Janet will be your best friends and your worst enemies over the next several years but when you're in your thirties you will still count them among your friends.
Be greatful for your teacher, Ms. Gallaher and for your relationship with Mr. Rascoe, your principal. Next year Mr. Rascoe will be elected superintendant and he'll leave. You'll hate the new principal, you'll also hate your 5th grade homeroom teacher. She's a bigot and she's stupid. Don't believe her when she tells you that you do third grade artwork. Don't believe her when she tells you it's not OK for you and Leon to love one another. She knows nothing. She's not worth your tears.
Speaking of tears...your Pop Honey is going to die in October. He's got lung cancer and he's going to have a heart attack. Your daddy will cry. He'll take his new pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and one by one he'll break them into the toilet and flush them away. He'll never smoke another one. When Stephanie offers you a cigarette years from now...don't take it. You'll not smoke long, less than two weeks, but you'll fight the desire for a decade. It wasn't worth it.
Your faith will be challenged next year. Stick to your convictions...GOD created the heavens and the earth. You'll get an F...but it'll be worth it.
This will be one of the last two years before your daddy leaves. Enjoy it. He'll be gone from the time you're 12 until you're 17. Treasure the times you have now.
One more thing...what B.Y. is doing to you...that's wrong. And it's not your fault. And it's NOT your responsiblity to "be nice to him". He's never going to "pay (them) what he owes" and even if he were...you don't deserve to be prostituted that way. You will eventually gain the courage to stand up to him and make him stop...but what is happening to you isn't your fault. I love you and together we'll heal from this. I promise.
Much love!
Me
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