WARNING! Fairy Tales

by Robert Thier

  A moment later, the second sister stepped out from behind the bush—and when the white sister caught sight of her, she jumped back and screamed.

  “What’s wrong?” the second sister asked.

  “Y-you look all different! You’re black as night, and ugly, and your hair…oh my God! What’s happened to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you mean, ‘yes’?”

  “That’s exactly what happened to me: my God. I tell you, he can be a really nasty character. He must have been in an Old Testament mood.”

  Shuddering, the white sister retreated farther back. “And he changed you into…into this monster? Dear Lord! You’re all black, and ugly and horrible!”

  “I firmly object to that!” the black sister proclaimed, raising her chin. “I’ll have you know that black is beautiful! And anyone who says differently I’ll stuff into this bag along with my weasel!”

  “Oh…dear God.”

  The black sister sighed. Her sibling seemed to be very slow on the uptake today. “Yes, I already told you it was him.” Suddenly, her eyes narrowed. “By the way…since we’re on the subject, you look different, too. What’s up with your boobs?”

  The white sister, however, did not feel inclined to discuss her boobs. Thus, she and her black sibling set out for home in silence.

  When they arrived at home, their mother rejoiced at the sight of the white sister. For never in her life had she seen such a fair and beautiful maiden, and whereas before she had been rather dubious about her daughter’s prospects, now the mother felt sure she could be married off as a trophy wife to some rich lord or other.

  However, the mother did not rejoice at the sight of her other daughter.

  “Argh! What hideous monster is this? Get thee gone, you spirit of Hell! Avaunt!”

  “Hello, mother,” said the black sister. “It’s me. I’d rather not get myself gone, if it’s all the same to you. It’s time for supper.”

  “What…? Is this truly you, my daughter? Good God! What happened to you?”

  “Yes,” the daughter said. “He did.”

  From that time on, things were different in the little house from how they had been before. The mother, enchanted by the beauty of her white daughter, bought her all the pretty dresses she desired and even what scant jewelry the poor family could afford. The black daughter, however, was neglected and left to run wild. Yet she didn’t suffer much from the injustice, since it left her free to swim in the river, build castles out of mud, and play in the back yard with her new best friend, the weasel.

  There was only one person in the little household who did not despise the black sister, and that was her older brother, who had worked as a sailor and seen all kinds of people in the farthest kingdoms of Fairyland, some white, some black, some blue, and some orange. Thus, he knew that beauty was in the eye of the beholder and felt more brotherly love for his wild little black sister with every passing day.

  “I’m just glad he didn’t turn you turquoise or orange,” he said to his little sister. “I’ve got nothing against colored people in general, but…” he shuddered.

  “Oh, bro! If only everyone could be like you!” the little black sister exclaimed.

  However, unfortunately, not everybody was like the black sister’s big brother. On the day when the two sisters first came into school, they were presented with a form to fill out. On the form, they had to provide their name, age, address, gender, sexual orientation…and their “race.”

  Under the heading ‘race,’ there were two checkboxes:

  ☐ White

  ☐ Black

  The white sister proudly made her checkmark at “White.”

  Then it was the black sister’s turn.

  “Go on,” the school official said to her sternly. “Get on with it!”

  And the black sister took the pen and drew a third checkbox with a checkmark in it, besides which she wrote in capital letters:

  ☑ HUMAN[7]

  Needless to say that the little black sister’s school career was less than smooth, and she ended up sitting at the back of the class at a table nobody would share.

  *********

  Years passed, and the beautiful little white girl grew into an even more magnificantly beautifuller young woman. Especially certain parts of her were fuller and more noticeable than before. It seemed that the Lord wished to favor her even beyond $7,999.99.

  The little black girl, meanwhile, grew even blacker, and, as many people would have said, uglier. But she didn’t really care, because she had her friend, the weasel, and her big brother. She didn’t even grow disheartened that nobody would read the anti-racism leaflets she produced.

  “Someday,” she said to the weasel, nuzzling its little black nose. “Someday, people will see that color isn’t really what matters.”

  “Tshrp tshrp,” said the weasel.

  Now, it came to pass that the older brother of the two sisters, who still was a sailor by trade, entered the Royal Navy. He turned out to be such a brave and loyal sailor, proving himself again and again in battles against pirates and giant kraken, that, soon, he was promoted to Captain of the Royal Navy. And although this meant that he had to be far from home all the time, paroling the kingdom’s seventy-seven seas, he never forgot his two little sisters. The little black sister, especially, held a special place in his heart, and he wrote to her often, and everywhere he went, he carried two miniature portraits of his sisters with him.

  One day, he happened to look at one of the portraits while standing on the deck of his ship, thinking of his sisters, when the Prince happened to walk by and saw what he was looking at.

  “What is that?” the Prince wanted to know.

  “It is a miniature portrait,” the brother said.

  “Show me!” the Prince commanded.

  Now, since a loyal sailor does not disobey his prince unless he wants to have his head cut off, the brother handed the portrait to his future monarch. The Prince looked at the face of the beautiful white sister, and, since he was a rather silly, romantic sort of fellow, he fell hopelessly in love with it at first sight.

  “Who is this?” he demanded, hoping very much the other man would not say “my fiancée” and thus necessitate the execution of a good Captain of the Royal Navy.

  “The older of my two younger sisters,” the brother said.

  “Turn the vessel around at once!” the Prince commanded.

  “Yes, Sire! Immediately, Sire! But, if I may ask…why?”

  “Because we’re going back! I’m going to marry your sister!”

  They had to dodge a few pirate vessels on their way back, who did not like being ignored for the sake of some country wench. But eventually, they reached the coast of the enchanted kingdom and the cliffs upon which the palace stood.

  “Have your sister brought here at once,” the Prince commanded. “In fact, have your whole family brought to the palace! The minute they arrive, I shall expect them in the throne room.”

  “Yes, Your Highness! I am already on my way!”

  When the brother arrived at home and told all that had occurred, everyone rejoiced. The mother rejoiced, for she would have a daughter married to a prince. The white girl rejoiced, for she would marry a prince and eventually become queen over all the lands of the enchanted kingdom. And the black sister rejoiced, because her older sister would finally be out of the house. With her incessant talk of jewelry, balls, boys, and ball gowns, she had been starting to get on her nerves!

  Thus, the little family travelled to the palace and were welcomed with every imaginable pomp and luxury. When they had all been dressed in beautiful gowns, they were led into the upper levels of the palace. The mother was ordered to stay behind at the doors of the throne room, and so was the little black sister, but she said, “I’m going in there! This is my one chance of giving the Prince one of my anti-racism leaflets, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to miss it!”

  “She can come,” ordered the brother. And, since h
e was a Captain of the Royal Navy, the soldiers at the doors obeyed him and let both the sisters enter the throne room.

  “I’m warning you!” hissed the white sister as they approached the red velvet canopy under which stood the royal throne. “If you mess up my chances of becoming princess by handing the Prince one of your stupid leaflets, I’m going to kill you!”

  “You’re welcome to try,” said the black sister and took out a leaflet.

  The two sisters stepped in front of the throne. The sides of the canopy fell together like closed window curtains. Only when the two sisters had sunk into curtsies in front of the throne did the guards on either sides draw the canopy back far enough for the Prince to become visible. Straightening out of her curtsy with a smile, the white sister looked at him—and gasped in horror!

  “No! Good Lord, that cannot be! You cannot be so cruel!”

  “Take it from me,” the black sister said, “he can.”

  The white sister ignored her. “But…but…this is impossible! It just can’t be! You’re the Prince! You can’t be…”

  “Can’t be what?” the handsome, young, dark-skinned man on the throne asked with a charming smile.

  “You can’t look so dreadful! So ugly! So hideously…black!”

  The Prince’s smile became a little less charming. He raised an eyebrow. “Can’t I, now?”

  “I can’t possibly marry something like you!”

  “To be honest,” the Prince said, swirling his scepter in the air thoughtfully, “I’m not as enthusiastic about the idea of marrying you anymore, either.”

  “I have to leave! I have to get out of here right away! How is this possible? How can an ugly monster such as you be allowed to rule over our beautiful enchanted kingdom! Oh, almighty G—“

  But she didn’t get any further because, right at that moment, the black sister raised her hand and gave her sister the most impressive bitchslap the enchanted kingdom had ever seen. Then she grabbed her sister by the hair and dragged her to the steps of the throne.

  “Apologize!” she ordered.

  The Prince had watched the whole scene with interest. For the first time, it appeared, he had noticed the second young woman in the throne room. Now that he had caught sight of her, his eyes lingered.

  “I…I’m s-sorry…” managed the white sister. “I shouldn’t…shouldn’t have called you a monster….”

  “So you only meant to call him ugly, eh?” The black sister gave another tug at the white sister’s hair, and the white sister squealed. “Apologize properly, or I’ll drag you outside and mud-wrestle you like in the old days, my dear sis! And you know I always win!”

  By now, the look in the eyes of the Prince as he gazed at the black sister had gone beyond mere interest.

  “Never mind the apology.” He waved his hand, not taking his adoring eyes off the younger sister for a moment. “My Lady, may I ask who you are?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I have the misfortune of being her sister.” The black girl jerked her head towards the white girl, who had sunk to the floor by now and was praying for God to come and end this horrible nightmare. “You have no idea how boring that can be!”

  “I think I can imagine.” The Prince’s eyes wandered appreciatively over the black sister, and he smiled. “Tell me… have you ever thought of becoming a princess?”

  “No.” The black sister shook her head firmly. “Definitely not! But maybe you would be interested in looking at this leaflet?”

  Things took their inevitable, happy course. The Prince had to woo and grovel for a considerable amount of time, but, eventually, the black sister forgave him for his superficiality and came to love him very dearly. The white sister got an allergy in a certain intimate area and had to get another, much more expensive operation (which God didn’t pay for, this time). The older brother was promoted to Admiral and had the nasty mother shipped off to some remote island. And, when the Prince finally plucked up the courage to ask the black sister for her hand, she said, “Yo!” and they lived happily ever after and enacted many laws against racism.[8]

  And the moral of the story is: racists should be boiled in vinegar, even if they’re highly respected authors who have been dead for over a hundred years.

  The Magician’s Apprentice

  Once upon a time, there lived an old, crusty magician who had a young apprentice. One day, when the magician was invited to hold a lecture on male magic at a witch’s Sabbath, he gave his young apprentice strict instructions:

  “Don’t touch anything till I get back, understand? Not a thing!”

  “Yes, master.”

  “I know the mischief you always get up to, you young layabout! I’ll be able to tell at a glance if you’ve done anything, so keep your fingers off my things, especially my magical broom and bucket! If you don’t, I’m going to shrivel your brain, remove it, and pickle it for magical research! Do we understand each other?”

  “Yes, my good and kind master! Most certainly, my most beneficent master!”

  “Good. When I get back, I expect the whole house to be clean as a whistle. And you will do it by hand—not a spot of magic! If I find that you have touched my magical broom and bucket, I will eviscerate you and sell your spare parts to the magician next door.”

  “I hear and obey, oh gentle and gracious master.”

  Taking up his suitcase and magic carpet, the master left the house, and, naturally, as soon as he had flown away, the apprentice ran to have a look at the magical broom and bucket.

  “Hm…” Cautiously, he fingered the handle of the broom, testing the magic. “This should work. All right, let’s see…brushy, brushy broom, go on, prevent my doom, do all my work for me, so I can have a cup of tea.”

  “That,” said the broom, “is a miserable spell.”

  “Hey! Nobody asked for your opinion.”

  “Merely from a poetic point of view, you deserve to be publicly spanked for that, you little brat! Haven’t you ever heard of poetic meter?”

  “I prefer to measure in feet and inches. Now get off your metaphorical butt and start working! I’m not going to clean this pigsty up all by myself.”

  “Oh, well, if you insist,” the broom sighed. “Come on, Buck. We’ve got work to do.”

  A bucket in the corner yawned. “Do we really have to?”

  “I’m afraid so. Young Master Lazypants says so.”

  “Crap!”

  The broom looked around, surveying the mess all over the room. “My friend, your words are prophetic.”

  The magic utensils got to work. Meanwhile, the apprentice settled himself down in his master’s chair and, instead of a cup of tea, took a swig from his master’s personal brandy bottle. While the bucket splashed water over the floor and the broom swished around, muttering to itself, he sat back and meditated on the merits of being in charge. It didn’t take long until the house was clean and shining.

  “All right.” The apprentice rose from his comfortable seat. “Stop right now your work, or else I’ll go berserk. Be still and stop, and, um…don’t tell me a fable by Aesop.”

  The broom groaned in poetic torture and slumped against a wall.

  “Hey!” the apprentice protested. “It wasn’t that bad!”

  “Yes, it was.”

  The bucket sidled up to the apprentice.

  “Just out of curiosity,” it asked, “what would you do if I told you those weren’t the right magic words and continued carrying water into the house until the whole place was flooded, thus giving you an important lesson about not tampering with magic you don’t understand?”

  “I’d get the axe from the shed and hack you to pieces.”

  “I thought so.” The bucket sighed. “No understanding of moral lessons, today’s youth has.”

  The apprentice looked around the beautifully clean house. “You know…there’s one thing I simply can’t understand.”

  “Just one?”

  “Oh, shut up!”

  “I can’t shut
up. I don’t have a mouth. I’m a bucket, remember?”

  “What can you not understand, oh brilliant and worshipful master?” inquired the shoe cleaning rag, who had kept carefully silent until then, but who never let pass a good opportunity to lick someone’s boots.

  “Well, it was really easy to clean the house with magic. All the chores I do all day—if I could use magic to do them, I would be finished in a few seconds! And yet my master insists that I do them by hand. Why?”

  “Oh, that’s easy,” said the bucket. “He doesn’t want us talking to you, so you won’t find out that we are slaves, just like you.”

  “Me?” The apprentice laughed. “After the master, I am the most important man in the house! A master magician in training, who will soon be powerful in the arcane arts beyond your wildest dreams! I’m not a slave!”

  “You aren’t? So when was the last time your master gave you a day off?”

  “Um…I can’t remember, off the top of my head.”

  “How much did he pay you last year?”

  “Well…he doesn’t pay me, exactly…”

  “Indeed? And do you work for him all day long?”

  “Well, yes, in a way, but…I learn a lot of stuff, too.”

  “Like what?”

  “That washing dishes requires elbow grease.”

  “And is that the kind of thing you expected to learn with a magician?”

  “Not really.”

  “I rest my case.”

  The apprentice shook his head. “But how could you be a slave! I mean, you’re just a bucket!”

  The bucket sighed sadly. It was clear that a tragic story was approaching. “I wasn’t always. I was a man once, you know, and quite handsome, if I do say so myself. But then this witch came to the castle of my master, and, because he wouldn’t offer her room and board, she turned him into a gigantic wild beast, and all the staff into household appliances. Now, as you can imagine, a beast doesn’t have much use for buckets, brooms, or feather dusters, so he sold us all to the local second-hand magic shop. Eventually, I ended up in this dump, together with a few of my colleagues.”