Stories

Sally was on the smallish side for a six year old, and she stared out across her grandmother's wide kitchen table. Today, she had chosen to sit at the head of the table, in a high backed chair with arms and a worn leather seat. When she was young she had insisted that she be addressed as Queen Semolina when she sat in this chair. Before her was a large bowl of red grapes. Sally peeled the skin off the grapes before she ate them. She ate the skin, then squished the flesh against the top of her mouth. She swallowed the seeds.

"Grandma, tell me a story," she said. Grandma was sitting on an exercise ball by the window in her bedroom. She didn't reply. She was trying to teach Sally not to call out from another room.

"Grandma, come and tell me a story!" She shouted. Sally peeled another grape while she waited. Grandma pretended to be engrossed in a book.

"Grandma? Are you there?' Sally asked, popping the grape into her mouth. Grandma turned the page. Sally slid off the chair, under the table and crawled to the door of the room where her Grandma sat reading. She peered around the door. Grandma was wearing hot pink workout gear, and with a very erect spine, was reading a book about medieval musical instruments.

"Meow," said Sally.

"Meow meow," replied her Grandma.

"Will you tell me a story, Grandma?" Sally crawled into the room and curled up by the exercise ball.

"Shall I tell you the one I told yesterday?" Grandma asked, closing her book.

"No! This time tell me a happy story."

"A happy story... Let's see... I think I can tell you a happy story." Grandma slid off the exercise ball, started to stroke Sally's hair, and began.

"Once upon a time there was a prince."

"Was that Grandpa?"

"No, dear. Your Grandpa was no prince. So there was a prince, who wasn't Grandpa. He was a rogue, though, a shame to his family. At night time he left he castle to go to the peasant quarters and hurt their livestock and put poison down their wells. They called him The Very Bad Prince at first, but soon they started to call him the VB Prince, and eventually just the VBP.

The VBP was relentless in his desire to do bad. So, the villagers killed him. They did it humanely, because they were not Very Bad, like the prince. This was how they did it: The palace cook slipped an overdose of sleeping poison into the VBP's dinner one night and before he could go out to wreck havoc upon the village livestock, he fell into a gentle sleep and died. Rumor had it that he had a smile on his face.

They buried him. The end." Sally stood up.

"Grandma, that isn't a happy story." She pointed a finger at Grandma.

"Well, I think it is happy. It was happy for the villagers."

"Make it longer." Sally sat down and rested her head in Grandma's lap.

"OK. Well, the cook, the one who poisoned the VBP became very famous. Not for having disposed of the VBP, but because he made the richest dark chocolate cake in the kingdom. He knew how to take precious jewels and make them taste like candy. The cake was drizzled with gold, and encrusted with diamonds. It was truly delicious. People who tasted this cake even once were ruined for the rest of their lives. Nothing ever tasted good to them ever again.

The Cook was famous, but he was lonely. He had all the riches and acclaim that a man could want, but he had no one to love, and he felt unknown. No one noticed what time he woke up or went to bed. If he accidentally gained thirty pounds (which was easy to do with his cake around), no one cared. He wanted a wife and maybe even a child. He wished more than anything for someone to love, and for someone to love him back.

One night, a fairy appeared to him. She was a scrumptious fat fairy with hairy legs and a top hat. The fairy told him that he was pregnant. The cook was astonished. He protested that he would rather have a woman who was pregnant, but the fairy just laughed and told him that sometimes the best things in life were unexpected.

Anyway, the chef's child turned out to be your Grandpa. That is why your Grandpa made such wonderful birthday cakes for you when he was alive. He didn't learn how to turn jewels into food, but he learned how to bake. The end."

"Grandma, is that true?" Sally looked up at Grandma.

"Of course, it is true."

"I'm going to ask Dad," she squinted up into Grandma's eyes.

"Go right ahead."

"I don't think it's true."

"I didn't think it was true when Grandpa first told me, but then I accidentally sat on the fat fairy and killed her and when we buried your Grandpa, I put the fairy in his grave too. That's how I knew it was true."

"Grandma!"

"She was fat, but still small."

"Grandma. You are very silly."

"That I am."

"Will you tell me another silly story?"

"Meow," replied Grandma.

"Meow meow." The two crawled on the floor like cats and then pretended to sleep in the sun.