Written for JD Mader's 2minutesgo writing site. Head over to write, read and comment. Have fun. Cheers.
Twitchy witchy – a fairytale parody
Cinders didn’t care much for an uptight ball,
Choosing to hang with the Big Bad Wolf,
As they called him – those three little piggies
Who hid, quaking in their little straw house.
Funny how tattoos and a cigarette can give
A cool wolf a bad name among some folks –
And that house would blow if he had his way.
The Wicked Witch of the West laughed hysterically,
Catching a ride to the ball on the back of her broom,
Wild tendrils of hair catching birds on the wing.
She’d stop now and then to tie up the innocent
With her red stripy stockings, her hooked nose
Poking into everybody’s business unwanted,
Ever seeking a little seed, to disturb and water
Until it became a destructive furtive force.
Her jaunty cackles roused the monkeys baring
Their wide pink bottoms in placid obedience,
Trotting gormlessly behind, nodding to everything
She said in making her grand witchy entrance.
Back at the castle, Cinders tends and mends,
Sweeps the last of the ancient cobwebs away,
Sending sticky spiders scuttling to each and every
Corner, seals the bolts and exits the back door
Into the melting sun and wildflower streaks,
The forest here long laid bare by Sleeping Beauty’s
New in-laws, through which a golden lane wound.
“So you didn’t want to go to the ball, really?”
The Big Bad Wolf asked, clipping a troubling claw.
Cinders thought for the briefest of seconds.
“No,” she said firmly. “I know who I am.
I don’t fit in with my sisters and I never will.”
The Big Bad Wolf nodded, full knowing the sting of
Stigma personified. Taking Cinders’ arm, he led the way
Up the yellow brick road and threw a bean to the sky,
Sprouting an ever-twisting beanstalk in their wake.
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, September 15, 2019
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