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Posts Tagged ‘fractured fairy tales’

Sorry; this is published elsewhere. The Wow-Wow Tales CreateSpace.com

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Sorry, this story continues in the Wow-Wow Tales, pub.CreateSpace

 

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“Presto! The Gingerbread Boy made a leap and said, ‘The world is my stage. It is time I made a run for it.’ ”
posted in the story ‘Gingerbread Man Retold’-benny

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The Golden Goose ©

 

(Sorry this story continues in the Wow-Wow Tales published through CreateSpace.com – b)

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Billy Beg and His Bull ©

 


Sorry. it is removed. Continue reading it in the Wow-Wow Tales-b

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Shmuck had always thought he was the most likely to succeed in his class. When he graduated with distinction he went to work for a gnome in Zurich. He slaved like a donkey to make the House of Black Friars the biggest bank. But one day he was shown the door. When he went out the portier feeling sad asked if he had thought of singing for his supper. Shmuck was an expert at it and he said, ‘Show me the color of money I will make my guitar weep.’ Finally he said, ‘I shall go to Bremen that lies at the end of the rainbow.’
That was how Shmuck hit the road. With a song in his heart and without a care except his severance pay and it weighed heavily in his pocket. Before long he met a fellow who sang only one tune and his imitation of Elvis Presley was fantastic. When he sang the number ‘Hound Dog’ even late king turned in his grave to say in sepulchral tone, ‘I am stoned, man!’. Poor ‘Bulldog’ Drummond was a private eye but the Eye in the Sky made his position redundant. ‘Technology stepped on my blue suede shoes.’ he confided in his new friend. ‘I am done in, friend.’
‘No you are not.’ said Shmuck.
Mr. Shmuck added, ‘We shall conquer Bremen!” Mr. Drummond didn’t know what was special about Bremen but the way Shmuck, the donkey described it,’ It was Graceland prim and proper’.
A little further the two came across a drag queen. ‘I am Meeow’ and asked them to follow the rules if they expected to conquer Bremen.’I am It to you but Alley Cat to others.’
The two were surprised that there were such rules for one who played coy and played like a jerk in next. ‘Meeow likes to purr!’ said It cheerily.
‘Can you sing?’
‘O I sing flat like no other!’ replied It coyly.
Any instrument?’
‘Just me and my Jewish harp!’
‘You will do’ said the other two.
In the town they came next was a popinjay and he strutted while they were supping in a roadside diner. They saw his outlandish dress and exaggerated manners and asked him to join them.’ I came to this town hoping to buy a suit most sober for an undertaker.’ He said, ‘I wanted this gray suit that I saw hanging in a shop window. Since buying it I got a funeral parlor as if I had pressed some magic button.’ He added how it got into his head to strut about like a rooster since every wish began coming true. He ended saying,’ I lost it all since townsfolk thought a high kicking undertaker who had a joke for every wake was giving death a bad name.’
‘Call Me Dude, the rooster.’ Dude wasn’t in the least bothered by his losses. As he said he intended to make his loss add to his personality. ‘But can you sing? They anxiously asked him. He said he was a rapper.
‘Some times I am adenoidal, but mostly I prefer off-key’ replied he.
‘I take the rap/ for the sick/ that so-ciety yiee yiee is,/Of course I am the sim-simp-tom!’
The three immediately took him. They didn’t know what he meant but it sounded very musical to them.
Thus the four went to a town and they said they should sleep early since they would be wowing the folks of Bremen next morning.
“All the more reason we should paint the town red.’ insisted Dude the rooster.
So they let Dude to arrange a card party. The inn-keeper said ‘you play but I take my cut’.
They agreed. Ten thalers a point they played for high stakes. The four musicians were losing like a roller coaster that had missed rail some hours earlier. The donkey whispered in between to ask Meeow if It knew what was going on. The drag queen threw Its hand and said,’ Even the folks from Bremen have come pouring to take us on.’ It was true. The news went around about four musicians who were hell bent to lose. ‘Ah this is the lowest form of self-advertisement,’ one worthy gent observed,’ they are bent on making the city of Bremen to sit and take note.’
The game was in full swing. He directly put a duffel bag full of money to play against the four.
The fellows of Bremen took turns to play against these four and in the end the four owed the city of Bremen 6 million thalers not counting the sundry losses the four had incurred in playing against other guests in the inn. Only the innkeeper seemed to be pleased. He had his cut while the four musicians played a losing game.
The Mayor after a week’s game stood up and demanded the four musicians to make good of their losses. ‘We won good and proper.’
Mr. Dude the rooster let out a cry ‘cock a doodle doo.’
When asked what he meant he said, ‘Nothing’ that will stand up in a court of law.’
The other three pointed to each other and said, ‘We shall sing for your suppers, considering you shall be kicked out of the City Hall for gambling away the reputation and assets’.
The folks of Bremen looked at each other angrily while the four musicians smiled. They knew all along they gambled for nothing. The good folks of Bremen were disappointed and angry.’ They surrounded the Mayor and their councilors saying, ‘You all are a bunch of crooks!’
In the end the four musicians of Bremen formed an association of sorts. They would help those who were thrown out of their office. They sang for their suppers at inns and the customers invariably paid up before they warmed up before tables. One thought their heart was in the right place but their sounds caterwauling.
The Four musicians survived in spite of this.
Years later they became the stuff legends are made of, but somewhat altered in the real facts. There is a famous statue commemorating the four in the city of Bremen.( based on an old German Tale)
(Posted here earlier-and in Elves Bells.)

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Once upon a time Chicken Little was walking along the village lane and saw a gaggle of geese going in a file. He crossed the lane in order to see them better. One goose stepped smartly and stepped on his little toe and it hurt. He flapped his tiny wings and was all astir. ‘This must be war!’ Chicken Little was certain. He ran to tell his Mama. But Mother Hen said geese were not on warpath. Chicken Little didn’t like to be proved wrong. So he asked, ‘How can you be sure of what I have seen, Mama?’ Mother Hen knew that she had to come up with a better answer to silence him. ‘It is common knowledge, Chicken Little,’ Mother Hen giving him an indulgent look said, ‘Had you laid as many eggs as I have, you will know you have been shooting your mouth.’ Chicken Little stood his ground and said, ‘But I felt its brutal thrust, yes I did.’ Chicken Little still staring at the scratch said,’ The goose-stepping marauders are on the war path.’ Mother Hen shooed him to attend to his supper and sleep off. Chicken Little did as he was told.
Later in the evening when the rooster came home Mother Hen lost no time in telling the news. ‘Order for mobilization has gone out. Geese have been given their marching orders.’
The Rooster said, ‘Is my comb all in order, Dearie?’
‘You are not getting mixed up in any of this?’
‘Sure I am,’ The Rooster crowed, ‘A war comes and I cannot let it go by.’
The rooster already saw himself as a Field Marshall. Mother Hen cackled in frustration. But Mr. Cock-a-lock said firmly, ‘I do not ask why I was given such colors when I cut a figure in a fight.’ Without so much as a good bye he preened himself and made a right about turn to face his imaginary enemies. Mother Hen ran a little behind him telling, ‘Go There shall be drumbeats and trumpets blaring as you march off. But when you return there shall be none.’
The rooster stopped dead in his tracks and looking at Mother Hen he said, ‘Lay your eggs if that cheer you up but leave the war to me.’ Without waiting to hear reason the Rooster merely marched on promising not to come back without covering himself in glory. On the way he met Porky who just had wallowed in mud and was feeling frisky. Porky saw Rooster and hollered, ‘What is the tearing hurry, Mr. Cock-a-lock? The Rooster mentioned a war had been declared. ‘How do you know that?’ Porky was not taking things at their face value. He countered it by asking, ‘ Tell me in a way I can understand: why would geese march in formation, goose-stepping across the country if not for war?’
Porky took time to digest this and the Rooster made a turn as though he had his baton already, ‘It is time to cover myself in glory.’ Porky didn’t buy this talk about glory. He grunted to admit,’ I covered myself in mud and let me tell you, and I feel great.’ The Rooster went off all spruced up. On the way he saw a Turkey who said war never appealed to him. The Rooster suggested he could prove his mettle. ‘Only war can take us to the top.’
The Rooster was sure war always ended in great rejoicing. ‘Don’t you wish when the President reads out recipients for Medal for Valor and you are among them?’
Mr. Turkey excused his lack of enthusiasm and said, ‘A war always ends badly for us. There will be thanksgiving and invariably we end on the occasion stuffed with sage. ’
The rooster thought the trouble with the world was they had no stomach for war. ‘There is a war and Mr. Turkey is already reaching wrong conclusions.’ He was certain he would not like to spend company with such fearful fowls.
On the way the rooster saw a fox and asked where the recruiting office was. The Red Fox saw the plump cockerel and said, ‘What a magnificent get up!’ Mr. Cock-a lock felt pleased. He returned the compliment, ‘You look no bad yourself‘
Yes Mr. Fox had his whiskers neatly drawn to a point and his thick tail fluttered, ‘’But are you dressed for the occasion?’
‘I hope I am,’ the rooster said somewhat shaken by the commanding presence of the fox.
‘Mr. Fox,’ the rooster stuttered,’ I ho-ho-hope you don’t think I will shy away when war has been declared?’
‘No, no’ the fox was certain, ‘ but you could do with more medals.’
The rooster crowed, ‘Cock-a doodle doo! That is why I am here to enlist.’
The rooster reminded again the fox where he was to enlist. The fox led him to his den where he asked the rooster to be bound over. ‘Why?’
‘Discipline, discipline. Think of it when your comrade’s life is in your hand. If you don’t have it you put your comrade’s life in danger. Think where this lack of discipline will lead to?’
Mr. Fox was very convincing and the cockerel was sure that the nation’s life was safe in his hands. Thus the cock let himself tied and taken to deeper recesses where he saw heaps of bones chewed clean. Shrugging at the mess the fox observed they were recruits who had no stomach for discipline.
Brightening up Mr. Fox looked at the trussed up cock and said, ‘Have no fear. But I have discipline that is far greater than all they had.’
(reprinted from Elves Bells of Nov.9-’10)
benny

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