A Different Kind of Fairytale

            Do you ever get tired with how fairy tales all seem to be the same? There are always three poor brothers, the youngest is the good one, the step mother is always evil, etc, etc, etc. Well, as we were driving up to Canada, I decided to try writing a story with everything exactly the opposite of what you would naturally expect. Or maybe the opposite. However, when I mentioned this idea to my family in the car, Craig was unconvinced. "Sounds to me like it wouldn't be a very popular fairy tale then." He may have sort of backed down from this bold statement, but still I was out to prove him wrong.

 

I never finished my fine little fair tale (I've sort of forgotten some of the interesting plot I had in mind anyway), but the beginning still amuses me so I thought I would share it with you.

 

 

Once on a time that was happened upon ago, there was a kingdom. In this kingdom there lived a young couple that was insanely wealthy. In fact, they were so insane about being wealthy that they agreed to live as just a lowly shoemaker and his wife in the middle of the woods where they were so miserably happy it isn't even funny. They continued to live this way until a certain day, forever marked in the history of the world (and if you haven't heard of it, it just proves your ignorance).

          "John," the insane wife of the insanely rich yet lowly shoemaker said to her husband. "I think it's time. Aahhh!"

          John was indeed shocked by this statement, so much so that he could do nothing but sit down. Of course he realized that this was a foolish thing to do, so he leaped back up again and asked, "Polly, do you think you can wait until I come back with the midwife?" For of course if you hadn't already guessed it, she had meant that it was time for her to have her baby.

          To make a long story short, Polly was able to wait, and she ended up giving birth to triplets! Unfortunately however, she ended up being so worn out from her long labor that she died. At least, that's the reason the midwife gave for her death, but my personal opinion is that she very badly wanted a girl. In fact, I think she so badly wanted a baby girl that when she found out that she had three BOYS, she passed away from a shocked and broken heart. This is ridiculous of course, since it is not so terrible a thing to have boys, but she was rather insane I must remind you, so owing to the additional fact that she's not here to defend herself, we'll give her grace.

          As I'm sure you can imagine, the cobbler was indeed very grieved over his dear Polly's death. This was probably partly because now he had no one who could share his insanity with him. So he determined to call this day the Day of Passing, since it was the day of her passing and the passing of his carefree life, and he vowed that he would devote this day forever to her memory.

However, he also recalled that right before his wife had passed away she had also passed on to him three little boys, and as he was a very decent man despite his insanity, he wanted to be a loving father to them. So he went into the room where the midwife had her hands full with the three wailing infants, and picking up the largest and most handsome one, whom he presumed was the oldest, he said, "There there young chap; I've decided to call you Percival. After all since this is the Day of Passing you must possess a fine 'P' name." 

He must have believed that informing the little one of his name would comfort him. Not surprisingly, it didn't, and he kept on wailing as energetically as ever.

Bouncing Percival gently in his arms, he proceeded to name the middle boy Pierre, but when he turned to the third boy, who appeared to be the runt of the litter (pardoning my way of speaking), he came with a puzzle.

"I'm not sure what to call you," he said, a bit vexed. "My vocabulary on 'P' names is rather limited, and I can't think of a single other one. Except---" Here he broke off and looked very thoughtful and solemn indeed. "I shall name you Polly," he said. "It's a very satisfactory name (I have no idea why some think it must belong to a female), and as it was your dear mother's, I can think of no other name more fitting." At this he nodded. "Polly it is then."

At this point the midwife felt that it was her duty to interrupt these premature christenings. Allow me to point out that the father had presumed the birth order of his sons, which is something one should never do, for it can often lead to mishap. This was no exception.

Luckily for the midwife, the shoemaker wasn't very troubled when he found out that he had reversed the order of his sons. Percival was in fact the youngest, and Polly was actually the oldest.

"No matter," he said, shaking his head. "They all are my sons no matter what order they come in." Which is a very sensible outlook, one must admit. Maybe the man wasn't so insane after all.

 

Hmm, maybe I should call this unfinished story "A Boy Named Polly." What do you think? :)

 

(In case you couldn't tell, I was having fun!:)