Archive | family RSS feed for this section

Fairy Tale Theater: Frankenstein

18 Dec

December 18, 2013

Are Frankenstein and Dracula fairy tales? No, they are not. But I’m rounding out Fairy Tale week with them. Frankenstein today, Dracula tomorrow.

fairy tale theater header

from November 1, 2012

My Memories of Frankenstein

Baron Frankenstein was a lonely boy. Part of the problem was due to his name. Many people think his first name was something normal, like Victor or Fritz, or Flo Rida, but they are wrong. Baron Frankenstein’s first name was actually Baron. (Therefore, when he grew up and inherited his title, he became Baron Baron Frankenstein. Think of it this way: it is as if Queen Elizabeth named her son Prince instead of Meathead.)  Think this is too farfetched? Think again. None other than 21st Century carnival barker Donald Trump named his son Baron. Tru dat. Look it up.

Li’l Baron (Barry for short) Frankenstein had no friends. You’d think being rich and having every toy in the Barony would be enough to ensure friends, but no, it was not. Baron Frankenstein’s father, Baron Frankenstein (and this time that’s his title, not his name- see how confusing this can be?) ordered every child in the land to attend his son’s birthday parties – and they did- but he could not force them to like his son.

You see, Li’l Baron Frankenstein was a total snot, a typical whiny rich brat who would never share his toys and, to be honest, smelled a lot like the pig sty. So one the one hand he was rich, but on the other hand he was selfish. On the one hand he had every toy in the world, on the other hand he had the hygiene of Balls Mahoney.

Unable to buy a friend, and with no other recourse, the snotty Baron pledged to build his very own best friend.

His very first attempt was a cross between a chicken and his nanny and it was an utter failure.

Upon hitting puberty, the young Baron was ready to make his second attempt- a cross between his new nanny and the busty chambermaid. This went nowhere but the Baron did entice them to pose for some interesting photographs.

Eventually, the friendless Baron grew and after his father died he became a friendless Baron. (See how silly that double-meaning name is? Grr.) He had no family, no wife, his dog ran away, etc etc etc. He soon realized that the only way for him to have a friend was to start off fresh with a clean slate. He spruced himself up, cleaned off that stench that clung to him, and opened wide his castle gates for the most lavish party anyone had ever seen, earning his the good graces of his countrymen forever.

Of course he didn’t, that would be stupid. He did the logical thing- he robbed some graves and stitched together several corpses to make a single male body more lithe and muscular than you’d expect from a totally heterosexual man.

Though I did point out that he was very lonely.

Well, after that it was the same old story. Man builds man out of dead men, living dead man rebuffs man’s advances, man sulks, living dead man moves out and into his own condo.

The moral of the story is that not only can you not buy love, you cannot build a living dead man out of the corpses of many dead men and expect it to like you.

So what happened to Baron Frankenstein?
The question is Imponderable.

HA HA, couldn’t help myself (a little inside joke there, click on the Imponderable link above, plug plug.)

Seriously, Baron Frankenstein one day did find love, albeit with a frog named Jessup who claimed to be an enchanted prince.

The undead creation of the Baron lives to this day, though he now goes by the name of Ben Bernanke.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Fairy Tale Theater: Little Red Riding Hood

17 Dec

December 17, 2013

fairy tale theater header

from July 19, 2012

Once upon a time there was a little girl. Amazing, right? Like who would think that in all of history there was ever a little girl and believe it or not, she lived in the woods. Nobody ever lived in a rundown apartment over a liquor shop back then.  Seriously, a little girl who lives in the woods in a fairy tale is like leaves on a tree. Big deal. I can look out my window and see leaf after leaf. I can probably also look out my window and see little girl after little girl but I won’t. A man my age who looks out his window at little girls is a sure bet to wind up on the sex offender registry.

Anyway, this particular little girl was named Little Red Riding Hood. That may be hard to believe but there was actually a time long ago when it was common to name people after items of clothing. Her mother was named Plaid Socks and her father was named Old Denim Overalls. She also had a cousin named Pants with Stinky Brown Stain on Rear.

Little Red Riding Hood, whose last name was Schwartz, lived in the woods. This is not the same woods as the one in Snow White or Pinocchio, though they were all run by the same management company. In fact there were about 30 different woods and in each the ogres were threatening to go on strike. Little Red was a cute and sweet young girl. In fact she was too cute and sweet. She was so sweet you couldn’t stand her. Little Red was like one of those cute kids in a Stephen King novel whom you couldn’t stand but you’d keep reading because you knew she’d get killed in some horrible way, like the baby in Pet Semetary. But not only was Little Red cute and sweet, she was also kind and generous and good-hearted. Everyone hated her. Even Mother Theresa once slapped her.

Here is a typical page from her daily planner:

-wake up
-milk the cows
-massage the cows
-dress the cows in pretty dresses

And that’s just before 8am.

On this particular day Red took some time out of her busy schedule to bring a basket of food to her sick grandmother. Grandma lived even deeper in the woods, all alone. Great idea for a frail old woman, right? Anyway, she was sick so Red decided to bring her enough food to last a week. I would have brought her a Medic Alert bracelet and some aspirin too.

The woods were full of wolves. Big, hungry, ravenous, sexually repressed wolves. What? Didn’t think I’d go there? Fairy tales are full of hidden sexual imagery.  Think Rumplestiltskin wasn’t freaky like Chris Brown? Yeah, some wolf beat up Rihanna too.

So there was Little Red Riding Hood, skipping along through the woods singing along to Gotye when just when she got to “But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough” (yes that song is that old. Gotye stole it from a German folk tale) a wolf leaped out of the trees and demanded “open the door and let me in or I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house in!” Clearly he was in the wrong place. Seeing his mistake he politely apologized and left.

No sooner had he left than another wolf leapt out and demanded the picnic basket. Back then wolves would wait in line for a shot at a picnic basket. He snarled. He showed his fangs. He waved his claws. His fur bristled, his teeth glistened, even his busy tail was somehow menacing.

Little Red Riding Hood smiled and, being so sweet and obnoxiously good-natured, gave him the basket, kissed the wolf on the snout, and turned around and skipped back home, singing Lady Gaga all the way. And poor granny? She was still starving.

Later, the wolf took the basket back home to his den. Lair? Nest? Where do wolves live anyway? The point is, he ripped open the basket and found it full of nothing but Ensure, Metamucil, and more adult diapers than you would expect. After all, Granny wasn’t about to digest a T-bone steak at her age. This did nothing to slake the wolf’s appetite. He trashed the basket but he kept the diapers. The wolf was getting on in years, you know.

The next day the wolf decided to get even with Red. He’d guzzled a week’s worth of Granny’s Ensure and went into body failure. He showed up on Grandma’s doorstep and rang the bell. He claimed to be selling subscriptions to Vibe magazine. Granny wasn’t interested and didn’t open the door. The wolf decided that being sneaky was getting him nowhere so he jumped through the window and ate her. Honestly, he’s a wolf. Why didn’t he do that to begin with?

After completing various good deeds, like washing a leper’s feet and knitting scarves for bald sheep, Little Red Riding Hood Schwartz once again brought a basket to Grandma’s house. She knocked on the door and a strange, high-pitched growl that would fool absolutely no one but this silly kid said “come on in, the door is open.” 

She went in and there, in the inky shadows, was what looked like a wolf in Granny’s bed. See? I told you fairy tales were full of sexual imagery. Let me lay this out for you: The wolf was trying to lure the girl into bed. There’s a reason why men who hit on every woman in sight are called wolves.

Meanwhile, how dumb is Red? Be realistic, would you be fooled if you saw a dog in bed instead of a human being? Of course not. Even if your dog could talk and looked cute in a sweater you’d knit her, you’d still recognize that it’s a dog. So what was Little Red Riding Hood’s problem? Sheesh. I think she needed glasses. You know what comes next.

“My Grandma, what big ears you have!”
“The better to hear you my dear.”
“My Grandma, what big eyes you have!”
“The better to see you, my dear.”
“My Grandma, what big teeth you have!”
“Oh screw this shit!” And the wolf leaped out of the bed and tore Little Red Riding Hood to pieces.

A passing lumberjack heard Little Red Riding Hood’s screams and came to rescue her. Guess what? The wolf ate him too.

The moral of the story? A wolf will eat you. Avoid wolves.

———————–

Can you stand more?

Read My Memories of Cinderella here.

Read My Memories of Snow White here.

Read My Memories of The Boy Who Cried Wolf here.

Read My Memories of Pinocchio here

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

← Older Entries
Newer Entries →