Politically Correct Bedtime Stories (5 page)

‘Very well,’ said the leader, ‘but we have a few ground rules. No dusting. No tidying up. And no rinsing out underwear in the sink.’

‘And no peeking in the sweat lodge.’

‘And stay away from our drums.’

Meanwhile, back at the castle, the queen rejoiced at the thought that her rival in beauty had been eliminated. She pottered around her boudoir reading
Glamour
and
Elle
, and indulged herself with three whole pieces of chocolate without purging. Later, she confidently strolled up to her magic mirror and asked her same, sad question:

‘Mirror, mirror, on the wall,

‘Who’s the fairest one of all?’

The mirror replied:

‘Your weight is perfect for your shape and height,

‘But for sheer OOOOMPH!, you can’t beat Snow White.’

At this news, the queen clenched her fists and screamed at the top of her lungs. For years, her insecurities had been eating away at her until now they turned her into someone who was morally out of the mainstream. With cunning and malice, she began to devise a plan to ensure the nonviability of her daughter-of-step.

A few days later, Snow White, to be sure she didn’t touch or rearrange anything, was meditating on the floor in the middle of the cottage. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Snow White opened the door to find a chronologically gifted wommon with a basket in her hand. By the look of her clothes, she was apparently unfettered by the confines of regular employment.

‘Help a wommon of unreliable income, dearie,’ she said, ‘and buy one of my apples.’

Snow White thought for a moment. In protest against agribusiness conglomerates, she had a personal rule against buying food from middlepersons. But her heart went out to the economically marginalized wommon, so she said yes. What Snow White didn’t know was that this was really the queen in disguise and that the apple had been chemically and genetically altered so that whoever bit it would sleep forever.

When Snow White handed over the money for the apple, you would have expected the queen to be gleeful that her plan for revenge was working. Instead, as she looked at Snow White’s fine complexion and slim, taut body, she felt alternating waves of envy and self-revulsion. Finally, she burst into tears.

‘Why, whatever is the matter?’ asked Snow White.

‘You’re so young and beautiful,’ sobbed the disguised queen, ‘and I’m horrible to look at and getting worse.’

‘You shouldn’t say that. After all, beauty comes from inside a person.’

‘I’ve been telling myself that for years,’ said the queen, ‘and I still don’t believe it. How do you stay in such perfect shape?’

‘Well, I meditate, work out in step aerobics three hours a day, and eat only half-portions of anything placed in front of me. Would you like me to show you?’

‘Oh, yes, yes, please,’ said the queen. So they started out with 30 minutes of simple hatha yoga meditation, then worked out on the step for another hour. As they relaxed afterwards, Snow White cut her apple in half and gave a piece to the queen. Without thinking, the queen bit into it, and both of them fell into a deep sleep.

Later that day, the Seven Towering Giants returned from a retreat in the woods, elaborately decked out in animal skins, feathers and mud. With them was a prince from a nearby kingdom, who had come on this male retreat to find a cure for his impotence (or, as he preferred to call it, his involuntary suspension from phallocentric activity). They were all laughing and back-slapping until they saw the bodies and stopped short.

‘What has happened?’ asked the prince.

‘Apparently our house guest and this other wommon got into some sort of catfight and killed each other,’ surmised one giant.

‘If they thought that by doing this, they could make us slaves to our weaker emotions, they’re wrong,’ fumed another.

‘Well, since we’ve got to dispose of them, let’s practise one of those Viking funerals we’ve read about.’

‘You know,’ said the prince, ‘this might sound a little sick, but I trust you chaps. I find that younger one attractive. Extremely attractive. Would you fellows mind … um … waiting outside while I … ?’

‘Stop right there!’ said the leader of the giants. ‘Those half-eaten apple pieces, that filthy costume—this has all the earmarks of some sort of magic spell. They’re not really dead at all.’

‘Whew,’ sighed the prince, ‘that makes me feel better. So could you chaps take a break and let me … ?’

‘Hold it, Prince,’ said the leader. ‘Does Snow White make you feel like a
man
again?’

‘She certainly does. Now, could you chaps … ?’

‘Don’t touch her! You’ll break the spell.’ The leader thought for a minute and said, ‘My brothers, I see certain economic possibilities arising from this. If we kept Snow White around here in this state, we could advertise our retreats as impotency therapy.’

The giants nodded in agreement with this idea, but the prince interrupted, ‘But what about me? I’ve already paid for my retreat. Why can’t I, um, take the cure?’

‘No dice, Prince,’ said the leader. ‘You can look but don’t touch. Otherwise you’ll break the spell. Tell you what, though. You can have the other one if you want.’

‘I don’t want to sound classist,’ said the prince, ‘but she’s not high enough
calibre
for me.’

‘That’s pretty big talk from a man shooting blanks,’ said one of the giants, and everybody but the prince laughed.

The leader said, ‘Come on, brothers, let’s lift these two off the floor and decide how we can best display them.’ It took three giants for each female, but they managed to get both bodies aloft. As soon as they did, however, the pieces of poisoned apple fell from the mouths of Snow White and the queen, and they awoke from the spell.

‘What do you think you’re doing? Put us down!’ they shouted. The giants were so startled they almost dropped the womyn to the floor.

‘That was the most sickening thing I have ever heard!’ shouted the queen. ‘Offering us around like pieces of property!’

‘And
you
,’ said Snow White to the prince, ‘trying to make it with a girl in a coma! Yuck!’

‘Hey, don’t blame me,’ said the prince. ‘It’s a medical condition.’

The leader of the giants said, ‘Don’t start tossing blame around. You both broke into our property in the first place. I can call the police!’

‘Don’t try it, Napoleon,’ said the queen. ‘This forest is property of the crown.
You
are the ones who are trespassing!’

This rejoinder caused quite a stir, but not as big a commotion as when the queen warned: ‘And another thing. While we were immobile and you all blathered on in your sexist way, I had a personal awakening. From now on, I am going to dedicate my life to healing the rift between womyn’s souls and their bodies. I am going to teach womyn to accept their natural body images and become whole again. Snow White and I are going to build a womyn’s spa and conference centre on this very spot, where we can hold retreats, caucuses and ovariums for the sisters of the world.’

There was much shouting and name-calling, but the queen eventually had her way. Before the Seven Towering Giants could be evicted from their home, though, they packed up their sweat lodge and moved deeper into the woods. The prince stayed on at the spa as a cute but harmless tennis pro. And Snow White and the queen became good friends and earned world-wide fame for their contributions to sisterhood. The giants were never heard of again, save for little muddy footprints that were sometimes found in the morning outside the windows of the spa’s locker room.

hicken Little lived down a winding country lane surrounded by tall oak trees. (It should be mentioned here that the name ‘Little’ was a family name, and not a derogatory, size-biased nickname. It was only by sheer coincidence that Chicken Little was also of shorter-than-average height.) One day, Chicken Little was playing in the road when a gust of wind blew through the trees. An acorn was blown loose and hit Chicken Little squarely on the head.

Now, while Chicken Little had a small brain in the physical sense, she did use it to the best of her abilities. So when she screamed, ‘The sky is falling, the sky is falling!’ her conclusion was not wrong or stupid or silly, only logically underenhanced.

Chicken Little ran down the road until she came to the house of her neighbour, Henny Penny, who was tending her garden. This was a simple task, since she didn’t use any insecticide, herbicide or fertilizer, and also permitted the native nonedible varieties of wildflower (sometimes branded ‘weeds’) to mingle with her food crops. So, lost amid the foliage, Henny Penny heard Chicken Little’s voice long before she saw her.

‘The sky is falling! The sky is falling!’

Henny Penny stuck her head out from her garden and said, ‘Chicken Little! Why are you carrying on so?’

Chicken Little said, ‘I was playing in the road when a huge chunk of the sky fell and landed on my head. See? Here’s the bump to prove it.’

‘There’s just one thing to do,’ said Henny Penny.

‘What’s that?’ asked Chicken Little.

‘Sue the bastards!’ said Henny Penny.

Chicken Little was puzzled. ‘Sue for what?’

‘Personal injury, discrimination, intentional infliction of emotional distress, negligent infliction of emotional distress, tortious interference, the tort of outrage—you name it, we’ll sue for it.’

‘Good gracious!’ said Chicken Little. ‘What will we get for all that?’

‘We can get payment for pain and suffering, compensatory damages, punitive damages, disability and disfigurement, long-term care, mental anguish, impaired earning power, loss of esteem …’

‘Person, oh, person!’ said Chicken Little joyfully. ‘Who are we going to sue?’

‘Well, I don’t think the sky
per se
is recognized as a suable entity by the state,’ said Henny Penny.

‘I think we should go and find a lawyer and learn who
is
suable,’ said Chicken Little, her diminutive brain working overtime.

‘That’s a good idea. And while we’re there, I can ask whom to sue for these ridiculously bony legs of mine. They’ve caused me nothing but anguish and embarrassment all my life, and I should be compensated for all that.’

So they ran farther down the road until they came to the house of their neighbour, Goosey Loosey. Goosey Loosey was busy teaching her canine animal companion to eat grass so that she could avoid the guilty feelings that came with feeding the dog processed animal carcasses from a can.

‘The sky is falling! The sky is falling!’

‘Sue the bastards! Sue the bastards!’

Goosey Loosey leaned over her fence and said, ‘Land sakes! Why are you two carrying on so?’

‘I was playing in the road and a piece of sky fell on my head,’ explained Chicken Little.

‘So we’re going to find a lawyer to tell us whom we can sue both for her injuries and for my bony legs.’

‘Oh good! Can I come and sue someone for my long, gangly neck? You know, nothing really flatters it, so I am convinced there’s a conspiracy within the fashion industry against long-necked waterfowl.’

So the three of them ran down the road looking for legal assistance.

‘The sky is falling! The sky is falling!’

‘Sue the bastards! Sue the bastards!’

‘Smash the conspiracy! Smash the conspiracy!’

Farther down the road they met Foxy Loxy, who was dressed in a blue suit and carried a briefcase. He held up a paw to halt the entourage.

‘And what are you three doing out on this lovely day?’ asked Foxy Loxy.

‘We’re looking for someone to sue!’ they shouted in unison.

‘What are your grievances? Personal injury? Discrimination? Intentional infliction of emotional distress? Negligent infliction of emotional distress? Tortious interference? The tort of outrage?’

‘Oh, yes, yes,’ the three said excitedly, ‘all that and more!’

‘Well, then, you’re in luck,’ said Foxy Loxy. ‘My caseload has just eased up, so I will be able to represent you in any and all lawsuits we can manage to bring.’

The trio cheered and flapped their wings. Chicken Little asked, ‘But who are we going to sue?’

Without missing a beat, Foxy Loxy said, ‘Who
aren’t
we going to sue? Three hapless victims such as yourselves will be able to find more guilty parties than you can shake a writ at. Now, let’s all step into my office so we can discuss this further.’

Foxy Loxy walked over to a small black metal door that was in the side of a small hill nearby. ‘Step right this way,’ he said as he lifted the latch. But the black door wouldn’t open. Foxy Loxy tugged on it with one paw, then with both. It still wouldn’t budge. He yanked and pulled violently, cursing the door, its mental abilities, and its sexual history.

Finally the door swung open, and a huge ball of fire shot out. This was really the door to Foxy Loxy’s oven! But unfortunately for him, the ball of fire engulfed his head, burned off every hair and whisker, and left him totally catatonic. Chicken Little, Henny Penny, and Goosy Loosey ran away, thankful that they had not been devoured.

However, the family of Foxy Loxy caught up with them. In addition to suing the manufacturer of the oven door on behalf of Foxy Loxy, the family brought a suit against the three above-mentioned barnyard fowl, claiming entrapment, reckless endangerment and fraud. The family sought payment for pain and suffering, compensatory damages, punitive damages, disability and disfigurement, long-term care, mental anguish, impaired earning power, loss of esteem and the loss of a good dinner. The three birds later brought a countersuit, and they’ve all been battling in court from that day to this.