The Greatest Fairy Tale

The fairy books were in a pile on Marcus's bedside table. The colored spines, stacked one on top of the other, looked like the arcs of a rainbow.

He pulled his comforter up to his chin. His father sat in a chair next to the bed and flipped through the red fairy book. Some of the worn pages were broken out of the spine.

"Come on," he said, "I haven't read anything to you for a long time

"No," said Marcus. "I want a new story. We've all been through this one before."

Marcus's father put the book aside. He rubbed his forehead with his palm.

"Well, I can make one for you. Is that all right?"

"I think so," Marcus said, "but it has to be one I'll recognize."

Marcus' father suppressed a grin at his son's contradictory request.

His brow furrowed, and the wrinkles on his forehead were as wrinkled as the spines of books. He lumped together all the characters he had memorized. The plot structures and settings. The archetypes and themes and conflicts. Everything sloshed together in his brain like a witch brewing a concoction in a cauldron.

"Something that's original... but familiar..."

He gasped as an idea came to him. A story that contained all the things his son knew and loved, but was completely new.

"I've it," he said.

"What's her name?" Asked Marcus.

"The greatest fairy tale of all time," said his father.

Marcus' toes curled with excitement under the covers. He pulled the sheet up to his nose. His father took a deep breath.

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Little Red Riding Hood. She had a real name, but the villagers called her Little Red Riding Hood because of the red cape she always wore. She lived with her grandmother in a...

"Wait a minute." Marcus sat up in bed. He crossed his arms as he pouted. "I've heard that a million times!"

"Not this time," Marcus' father said. "Be patient."

Marcus leaned back in his bed. His father picked up where he left off.

She lived with her grandmother in a hut in the forest outside the village. Every day Little Red Riding Hood went to the village to get food for her grandmother, because she was old and could no longer take care of herself.

One day, on her way to the village, she met a wolf with gray fur and a long snout.

"What is your name, little girl?" asked the wolf.

"Little Red Riding Hood," she said.

"What are you doing here in the forest, all alone? It's not safe for a little girl like you."

"I'm on my way to the village to get food. My grandmother is sick and I've to take care of her."

"Oh," said the wolf. "Poor child. Why don't you pick some flowers and give them to her as a gift?"

"What a great idea!" said the girl. "Grandmother will be delighted ... my goodness! What a big bump you have on your head!"

The wolf chuckled as he rubbed the spot with his paw.

"Oh, yes," said the wolf. "That bump has quite a history behind it. I can hardly believe it myself. I'll tell you all about it."

The two sat down cross-legged in the middle of the road. The wolf breathed in and out deeply, the air whistling through his fangs.

It was like this. Once upon a time there was a family of pigs. An old mother pig and her three sons. One day, when the sons had grown up, she sent them out into the world to seek their fortune.

The oldest son was a lazy piece of pork. He didn't like to work at all and preferred to build his house out of straw. The second oldest son worked a little harder, but was also lazy and built his house out of sticks. The third and youngest son, however, was the most industrious of all and spent the whole day building his house out of bricks.

The next day I happened to come across the straw house and smelled the delicious pig inside. I knew it would make a good meal. My mouth watered when I knocked on the door.

"Little pig! Little pig! Let me in! Let me in!"

"No! No! No! Not with the hair on my chin-chin-chin!"

"Then I'll blow and blow and blow your house away!"

And that's exactly what I did. I blew the house down and ate the pig whole. It tasted as good as it smelled.

I continued down the street and came upon the stick house. Again the pig refused to let me in. So I blew up the house and made a meal out of the pig.

When I came upon the brick house, I knew I had to make it. It didn't matter how much I huffed and puffed. The cursed house stopped. Except for a small brick that fell off the roof and hit me squarely on the head! I can still see the stars dancing before my eyes. At that moment, I knew I had enough trouble for today. So I went home and got comfortable in front of the fireplace with a copy of Werewolf Weekly. On the cover was an article about a girl your age. Let's see if I've it with me... ah, here it's.

The wolf pulled a folded copy of the newspaper from his jacket pocket and handed it to Little Red Riding Hood. She read it through in silence.

10- YEAR-OLD GIRL CHARGED WITH BREAKING AND ENTERING

Police charged Miss Goldilocks Principal, 10, with one count of burglary. According to the Other Side of the Wood Police Department, a 911 call was received Feb. 29 from Mr. Papa Bear, 42, when he and his family were returning to their home after waiting for their oatmeal to cool and happened to run into Miss Principal watching TV.

"My family and I had never seen anything like this," Mr. Bear said in an interview with police. "We didn't think to lock the door because we're good bears who don't hurt anyone and never suspect that someone might hurt us. Well, I think we know better now. But it's not our fault that the girl wasn't raised right. What's going to happen when you let a child run around all alone on the other side of the woods? It's a miracle no one was hurt. My son Wee is pretty traumatized by the whole thing."

Although Miss Principal has apologized for scaring the bear family to death, she maintains that she did nothing wrong.

"So what? Sue me. I'm about 10 years old. I don't have any money. And my mother doesn't have any either. She's the one who sent me on this errand in the first place. It's her fault. What was I supposed to do? The stupid bears left the door open. They might as well have put a sign on the door saying, WE WELCOME ALL THE FLIES IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD. I almost burned the roof of my mouth from the damn porridge. I should sue them. They have money. I bet they're the only ones on the other side of the woods that have cable and satellite. And they got plasma screens in every room! Can you fucking believe that? The big bear's TV nearly burst my eardrums, and I couldn't hear the woman's TV, but the son's TV was neither too loud nor too quiet, but just right. Not to mention they have all the premium movie channels too. So I picked the latest remake of Cinderella and paid the $9.99 because they can afford it. Wasn't too bad at all.

"This one Latina actress played a wannabe high school singer named Cilantra. After her parents die, she's raised by a washed-up celebrity who made it big. The celebrity's snotty daughters treat Cilantra like a slave and bully her at school. I can't remember the name of the guy who played the guy. Anyway, Cilantra conspired with her friends to do all her chores so she could attend the prom. She ended up doing Mr. I'm Hot and You're Not because he went to the dance because he was on the other side of Hollywood.

"They dance all night, but at quarter to midnight Cilantra rushes out because she has to return her rental car to the dealer or she'll be charged an extra day's rent. On the way home, a blind man walks in the middle of the street, and she dodges him."

The speedometer reached triple digits. Cilantra's high-heeled shoe pressed on the gas pedal. Paying another day's rent on the car was more expensive than risking a speeding ticket.

Her cheeks burned as she remembered dancing the night away with Cilantro. Of the scent of his citrus perfume. His rough, masculine hands pressing against her back. The way his suit jacket hugged his broad shoulders. The timbre of his frothy, deep voice.

She replayed a moment over and over in her mind. The music slowed, a saxophone blasting from the speakers, Cilantro's brown eyes lingered on hers. They stopped swaying and stood motionless in the middle of the packed gym. His hands clasped her cheeks. She wasn't embarrassed that people were watching her. His stubble brushed her chin as their lips met.

An arrow of adrenaline pierced her and lodged in her heart. She felt nauseous with desire. Her legs turned to jelly and almost gave way beneath her. He kissed her again and again and again.

"I don't know who you're under that eye mask," Cilantro said, "but you're different from the other girls here. Beautiful ... gorgeous ... breathtaking ... none of that is good enough to describe you."

Cilantra didn't have a chance to respond. The digital clock on the wall read 11:45. The Hurtz dealership beckoned. Without saying goodbye, she turned on her heel and fled the gym.

"God ... will he recognize me tomorrow? Why didn't I tell him my name?"

Her heart raced with the Honda she had rented for the night. A cocktail of emotions swirled through her veins. Excitement at the prospect of seeing Cilantro again at school. Apprehension about having to pay rent for another day. Frustration that she had handed him her cell phone because her dress had no pockets, and then left without it.

She didn't see the man on the street until it was almost too late. She slammed on the brakes. Her tires screeched. She yanked on the steering wheel. Her car lurched to the side of the road. The seat belt dug into her chest.

She took several deep breaths to steady herself before getting out of the car. The man stood frozen in the middle of the road, as if struck by lightning. She stared at him. For a moment, she thought he was on his way home from some sort of medieval feast. He wore a white vest with white pants and a white cloak with golden decorations. A dirt stain took up most of his cloak, as if he had fallen on his back and soiled it.

"Lord!" Said Cilantra. "I'm so sorry! Are you all right? Do you want me to call 911?"

"Rapunzel?" said the man. "Is that you?"

"My name is Cilantra. Wait a minute... I can call an ambulance."

"You sound just like her," the man said. "She used to sing to me when we met in the tower. You must be a singer yourself. She has the same voice as you. If I could only see you..."

The man waved his arms as if he were walking through a dark room. Cilantra gasped as she realized the man couldn't see.

"My God ... You're blind? Don't worry, I can take you anywhere you need to go."

She grabbed his hand and led him to her car. She opened the passenger door and sat with him.

"Oh, if only you could..." the man said.

"What's your name?" Asked Cilantra.

"Prince. Just Prince."

"You don't have a last name?" Asked Cilantra.

"I do. Prince."

"You said you had only one name," said Cilantra.

"No. My name is just Prince."

Cilantra stared at Just. Her mouth remained open in amazement.

"Don't tell me your middle name starts with an A," Cilantra said.

"As a matter of fact," Just said, "it does."

Cilantra bit down on her fist as she was overcome by a violent fit of giggles. She faked a coughing fit.

"Are you a real prince?" Asked Cilantra. "You know, like a king?"

"No," said Just. "That would be quite a mouthful. Imagine if you had to write Prince Just A. Prince when you sign your name."

Cilantra couldn't think of a suitable response. Just filled the silence, oblivious to the fact that it was only thanks to the reflexes of a 16-year-old girl that he didn't collide with a two-ton plastic log traveling at 100 miles per hour.

"It's really very nice how we met," Just said. "I was riding my horse Steed through the woods and I heard a woman singing. It sounded like the voice of an angel calling to me. I followed the voice and came upon a tower that was impossible to enter. I knew the voice was coming from the top of the tower, but I had no way to climb up.

"Again and again I returned to the tower. Each time the woman serenaded me as if she knew she had an audience. One day I saw a sorceress standing at the foot of the tower. She put her hands in front of her mouth and shouted, 'Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair! So that I can climb your golden staircase!' Immediately a rope of golden hair flew out of the window and down the side of the tower so that the sorceress could climb up. The next day I called the woman and asked her to let down her hair. She did, and I climbed up."

Cilantra winced as she imagined how it would feel to carry an entire person with her hair roots. She simply continued.

"It was love at first sight. She wasn't of noble birth, but she held herself like a princess. Her smile that never left her face, her delicate hands that fit perfectly in mine, her watery eyes that drew me in and drowned me in love.

"We made a plan for her escape. Every time I visited her, I'd bring her a piece of cloth to weave into a ladder. But before the ladder was finished, we'd talk lovingly and tenderly..."

...

Marcus sat up excitedly. He threw the blanket aside. "So, what happened next? What did they do?"

Marcus's father shook his head. He pushed himself off the chair and crossed the bedroom.

"Next time we'll stick to storybooks. Nightie-night."

He turned out the light and closed the bedroom door.