‘Give over.’
‘You give over.’
‘Stop pushing.’
‘You stop pushing.’
‘Lemme see.’
‘No. You let me see.’
Fifteen fairytale characters waited in Annette’s darkened lounge; some by the walls; some in chairs, knees hugged to chests. All were impatient.
Pop! They glared at Gretel. Her eyes all sullen defiance, the brat stretched her chewing gum to a long long strand then released it, her tongue slowly hauling it back into her mouth. Pop, she burst the gum again.
Annette’s voice drifted through from the hallway, ‘This way. There’s some people I’d like you to meet.’
Many shifted in their seats, anticipating.
Mr Meekly’s menacing form filled the lounge doorway, blocking out all light.
‘Heavens,’ said someone.
‘Gracious,’ said another.
Glances were exchanged.
Someone tittered behind a girlish hand.
A murmur circled the room, stopping at Jack who’d seen it all before and wouldn’t give five beans for it.
Smiling, Annette took the reluctant creature’s hand and led him into the room, his shoulders scraping the ceiling. Craning her neck to see his face, she told him, ‘These are my friends.’
‘Hi, big guy. I’m Rumpelstiltskin.’ The little man stepped forward, removed the cigar from his mouth and shook the creature’s hand. ‘Bet you can’t guess her name,’ he said of Annette. ‘That dame is the most inscrutable broad I ever worked with, and I worked with Nijinsky.’ Then he frowned. ‘Least, that’s who she said she was.’ And he rejoined the pack.
Meekly looked confused. He wasn’t the only one.
The ugly duckling quacked.
Jack’s cow mooed.
‘Looks an absolute brute of a thing,’ said Snow White’s Stepmother, eyes gleaming vicariously.
‘Hello,’ the three bears said to him.
‘Want some porridge, Mr Pink Horrible Mr Meekly Line?’ Baby Bear stepped forward, steaming bowl held out.
‘That’s my porridge!’ Goldilocks slapped it from his hand. Thwack, it hit the bare floor.
‘Yeah? Like you don’t owe us. Bubbles!’
Baby Bear sidestepped Goldilocks’ punch, producing an uppercut to the chin, then another, then another. It looked like she might go down but she replied with three good kicks to the stomach.
The others formed a ring, crowding in, cheering them on, girl tearing clumps of fur from bear, bear bashing girl’s nose.
Annette raised her eyes heavenward. Why did it always have to end like this?
Mr Meekly grunted, bewildered by the tiny figures rolling around at his feet.
‘Smack him, kid,’ urged Rumpelstiltskin.
‘Bite her ear off.’
‘Empty your porridge on her head.’
‘Sleep in his bed.’
‘Sit in her chair.’
‘Ten quid on the bear,’ slurred Snow White, her loosely held vodka glass spilling half its contents. The inveterate gambler, smoker and drinker always blamed it on being from a broken home.
‘This juicy apple on the brat,’ said her Stepmother.
‘That juicy apple?’ said Snow White.
‘This juicy apple.’
‘Lemme see that juicy apple.’ Snow White snatched it from her and rubbed it on her own dress.
‘Impressed?’ asked the Stepmother.
‘What is this?’ demanded Snow White, studying the fruit, her face blackening with rage.
‘What?’ said the Stepmother, all wounded innocence.
‘You’re trying to slip me a mickey. Hey, everybody, my mommie dearest’s trying to slip me a mickey!’
‘Quack.’
‘Moo.’
‘Quack quack quack.’
‘Moo moo moo.’
Fight spreading, Annette led Meekly to a quiet part of the room. She assumed that what she was about to do would set right whatever had gone wrong when Danny’d failed to stick to his destiny. It was a rare man too clueless to follow his own fate. Later she’d pay Mr Yates a visit and make him know what he’d put her through. And he’d better be sorry.
‘Would you like to sit here please?’ she asked Meekly.
Still bewitched by her pedicure, he sat in the pentacle she’d marked out earlier.
She waved her arms around because it was expected, and began to incant. After all, that which brought fairy tale characters to our world could return comic book ones to theirs.