Wanna hear a bedtime story? Good.
What follows is nothing amasing just the GREATEST RENDITION of a classic story EVER TOLD!I give you...
Hansel and Gretel
Once upon a time in a land far, far away there lived a kindly woodsman with his two children, Hansel and Gretel. Hansel wore lederhosen (as Hansels are want to do) and Gretel called him “Hoser” for it.
The children’s mother had died many years ago, and the woodsman had remarried a beautiful, albeit evil and wicked, woman who hated to see happy little children. But she was beautiful, so, as far as Mr. Woodsman was concerned, her views on child-rearing were second tier.
One day Mrs. Woodsman came up to her husband and said, “Mr. husband guy, the children are SO cramping my style. Let’s, like, lose them in the woods or something, okay?”
The woodsman was saddened that he couldn’t keep his children, but if he wanted to keep the chick, the brats had to go. So away went the brats.
The woodsman told Hansel and Gretel that they were going for a walk in the woods. After he had led them out deep into the woods he told them to close their eyes and count to a thousand so he could leave them.
Gretel cried and said, “But, dad, you never taught us how to count past eleven!”
After doing some quick calculations in his head the woodsman said, “Just count to eleven 90.9 times.”
Apparently he taught poor Gretel the decimal system before he taught her twelve, because this made perfect sense to her, and she proceeded to do it. While the children had their eyes shut, the woodsman quickly and quietly made his way back to the house.
When they opened their eyes again and saw that their beloved father was gone, Hansel was a bit miffed.
“Well, that does it.” He said, “Let’s follow my marbles back home.”
“Hansel,” Gretel said, “Why did you drop marbles all the way on our walk through the woods?”
“I lost a bet, actually,” Hansel answered, “But pretty lucky for us now, eh?”
Gretel smiled and nodded. Together they walked back through the woods and were home in time for supper. This really ticked off their parents.
The next day the woodsman took his children out for another “walk.”
“Okay, brats,” He said, “Let’s try this ‘losing the kids’ thing again.”
“Okay, daddy.” Gretel smiled.
So again he led them out deep into the woods and told them to close their eyes and count to eleven 90.9 times. They did this. He left. They opened their eyes. They laughed at his utterly lame attempt to lose them.
“We’ll just follow my Twinkies back home!” Gretel squealed.
“You wasted Twinkies?” Hansel asked, “Why? Is home really worth that?”
“Oops.” Gretel stared wide eyed at the path where her Twinkies had once been.
“What is it?”
“Um, Hoser,” Gretel said, “I forgot that rabbits like high fructose corn syrup.”
“Nothing,” She smiled, “Just that the Twinkies are gone, and we’ll never get home.”
With that exacerbating realization, the brother and sister walked off into the woods trying to find their way home. They walked and walked and walked and walked and walked some more. Then, when they had walked all they could walk, they cried. When they were through crying, they walked some more.
Finally they came upon a house.
It was made entirely of spinach.
They kept walking.
Shortly they came upon another house. This one was made of gingerbread, and had chocolate frosting framing glass-candy windows and gumdrop somethingerrathers and waffles for shingling and a candy-cane fence.
“I’m so desperately hungry, Hoser,” Gretel cried, “Can’t we stop and eat this person’s house?”
“We really don’t know where this stuff has been, Gretel.” Hansel said, “I mean, if they have a dog, then don’t eat the yellow frosting, know what I mean?”
“But I like lemon frosting.”
“I don’t think it’s lemon, kiddo.” Hansel said, “But my blood sugar’s dropping fast, so let’s pig out.”
They started eating the house. Most scholars consider this one of the more bizarre choices any humans have made in the last eon or so. I mean… even if it IS gingerbread… eating a house you find out in the woods? Bad idea, children. Bad.
Anyway, as should be expected, the owner of the house came out to see who was eating her house. Not surprisingly, she was a bit upset. So she grabbed the two little brats and shoved them into a cage (which, oddly, was not made of anything sweet) and hauled them into the house. She was, ugly and green and had a wart on her nose; she was, obviously, a witch.
Somehow or other, after a couple days, the arrangement became that Hansel sat in the cage all day getting fed sweets beyond his wildest dreams. And Gretel did housework for the witch. Apparently the witch wasn’t a feminist.
Anyway, it became apparent to Gretel that the witch couldn’t see very well. She probably just needed thicker glasses, but whatever. Vanity will be the end of villainy.
Every day when the witch came to see if Hansel was fat enough to eat she would say, “Give me your finger, dummy.” And Gretel would shove a stick into her hand so she would say, “Your metabolism rocks, kid. Still as skinny as a pencil.” In reality Hansel had tripled his bodyweight in less than 48 hours.
Then one day the witch got hungry and decided she was going to cook Hansel, skinny or no. So she told Gretel to light a fire in the oven. Gretel built a huge, gigantic, behemoth and big fire, and stoked it until it was hotter than the surface of the sun.
“Is it just me or is it hot in here?” The witch cackled.
“It’s probably just you, crazy lady.” Gretel said, “Why don’t you come here so I can feel your forehead?”
So the witch walked over to where Gretel was standing and knelt down so she could reach her forehead.
Gretel seized her opportunity instantly! She reared back as far as she could and with a shrill cry of “This Is Sparta!” She kicked the wicked witch into the oven.
Witch goo got on everything.
That was when Hansel realized that the cage was never locked, and he crawled out. Hansel seemed to have gained a great sense of direction while being locked up, because he was able to lead them right back home. Despite his massive weight gain and lack of exercise, he ran the whole way.
When they got home they somehow found out that their step-mother was actually the witch they had just blown up. How (or why) she was living this crazy double life is beyond me.
Their father was distraught at the loss of his wife.
“She wasn’t much of a mother.” Hansel said, “I mean… she was planning to eat me.”
Gretel giggled and nudged Hansel, “I guess you could say she ‘went to pieces,’ eh?”
They both laughed.
The woodsman wept. Then he went into the loft and shot himself.
This report comes to you from child services.