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inseptiv

Member Since 2002

Followers 3 Following 3

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Thursday Jun 20, 2002

Jun 19, 2002
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When I tell stories to make people fall asleep, I make sure they get their penny's worth. For a quarter, I will bore them to death.

-----


So the tired blonde girl tries spinning the hay into gold with the little man's spinning wheel.

She cuts her hands all over the place on the spindle, all the hay is making her sneeze, and it takes her fucking hours to get the hang of it! But she does. Eventually. Truth be told, it takes her two weeks to figure it out. And in the meantime, she's been stewing over what the little man's name might be and crying tears of loneliness.

She remembers clearly that none of the green armoured guards mentioned his name, that he never spoke his name at the food market in the village, and that he never said it to her husband when he opened the door to the little man a few weeks ago.

So she spins hay into gold and guesses at names to herself.

Finally, after a week, she's done the whole room. The little man's green armoured soldiers come and take away all the gold thread and bring in even more hay and a fresh supply of bitter green apples. The little man himself comes by to watch it all. While chewing on a green apple, he asks her, "So, babe. My name. Any ideas yet?"

"Asshole."

"Close, but no dice, sister. See you when you're done this second room of hay. Ha Ha Ha!" And the little man spins on his heels and shuffles away.

So she does the second room of hay. It takes her a ruddy week and a half, but her fingers aren't bleeding as much as they did the first time, and she's starting to do some quality work. On the morning she's done, the soldiers come back and exchange the gold for hay and apples. Again, the little man is watching everything from amongst that entourage of green soldiers. "So, honey," he says to her, "what's my name?"

She'd been thinking of the most likely names for short people in the village. Her number one, most likely name was:

"Shorty."

"Nope. See you later. By the way, nice work."

And with that the door was closed in on her for another week. The girl was very aware that if she didn't guess his name this next time she would still be able to visit her children for a few seconds, because she had done three rooms of gold, as per the deal. But it was already making her sad that she would have to come back to spinning.

When he finally came with his soldiers to pick up the gold, she gave it another shot.

"Clarice."

"That's not even a boy's name!" he shouted.

"Well, I thought it might be an embarrassing name for a guy, and that's why you didn't tell anyone."

"Whatever. So here's the deal babe. Take a look at your husband and kids..."

And with a wave of his arm, the guards revealed her husband standing in the corridor, holding the three toddlers, grinning and waving like nothing was the matter.

"Because you won't see them again till I get another three rooms of gold! Ha!" And the little man snapped his fingers and the husband and children were crowded behind the green guards, who then closed the door and left her to cry for hours and hours and hours, until she decided she would really have to play this name game or the little creep would have her here forever.


"Douglas."

"Nope."

"William."

"Nope."

"Aetherbald."

"Nope."

"Herpes."

"Nope"

And it went on like this for months and months. In the meanwhile, every three rooms, she would wave vigourously at her husband, who still thought she was on vacation. He was rather dumb, and never once questioned that raising three kids on his own while his wife went on vacation was a rather shitty deal. But then, despite being unfathomably stupid, he was a loving husband. Maybe the most loving husband there ever was.

It was while he was at home between visiting sessions that he wanted to celebrate his anniversary with his wife. He missed the sex, of course, and thought that if he wrote a really nice poem and brought some flowers, she might be enticed to come home again. So the next time the procession of green soldiers came to the little house on the outskirts of the village to take him and the three babies off on the trip to the stone castle, he brought along a tiny envelope and some flowers.

When the guards parted this time, he grinned like a fool and tossed her the flowers with the envelope. His wife was looking pretty haggard. Maybe it was all the green apple core's lying around, but she was starting to look thin and rather green. But he still wanted to get it on with her, so he nodded at the flowers on the floor and winked at her to suggest his naughtiness.

The little man saw this.

"Hey hey hey! Flowers!?!" He didn't see the envelope buried underneath. "Christ, this husband of yours is naff!" He leaned in to the village girl and whispered to her, "You're never getting out of here and he still thinks he's gonna get some action!"

And when they had all left again, she cried and gathered up the flowers and opened the card and read the poem.

And, suddenly, she was amazingly rueful and happy.

"My dearest lovey dovey
I miss your pretty tummy.
The babies miss you too
But not the way I do.
I've missed you all the summer
and now it is late fall.
It's been quite a bummer.
The babies wail and bawl
at the sight of Rumplestiltskin
(of course, they're only children).
So you better visit home.
I swear I could not roam,
cause I miss you like the moon
needs the sun, oh come home soon!"

Well, it wasn't minstrel quality.

But that name, that hideous name! She could remember it clearly now! It had been been painted on the wagon in the market where the little man was selling the green apples.

When the soldiers came again in three weeks, the husband put on his most dashing tights and frock (it was the middle ages) and even bathed (with clothes on, because he was inexperienced and stupid). And when he saw his wife at the castle she leapt through the guards and kissed him a million times so quickly he never got a chance to see the little man fuming and kicking at the gold and cursing.

My god, though he thought it was the flowers and poem that brought her back, they had the best sex ever that night. And so on his anniversary he always writes her a poem about the moon needing the sun. And she doesn't complain it isn't minstrel quality, and lets him play with her boobs for hours.


The End.

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