Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Fractured Fairytales: Rapunzel - The Weave Stylist

The word is Beauty Technician, not “stylist.” Get it right.

Sure, I shampoo hair and place in highlights. But so do dog groomers. Please give this sista her proper respect. I am a BEAUTY TECHNICIAN. How else do you think I can weave my hair into a braid long and strong enough to let Dame Gothel up here into this tower with no stairs or doors?

Okay, yeah. I’m a prisoner in this tower. As far as I understand it, my parents are to blame. See, when my real mother got pregnant, she had a major case of the munchies. Yet instead of eating simple things like peanut butter-covered pickles, she wanted these rampion radishes located in a walled garden owned by their next door neighbor, Dame Gothel. So instead of the old man asking for some, or at least slipping the neighbor some cash, he climbed the wall and stole the radishes.

On the third night, Dame Gothel busted his sorry ass for theft.

The old man pleaded for mercy since he didn’t want to go back into the state pen again. He went through some incident that dealt with dropped soap in the shower. Anyway, Dame Gothel decided she won’t call THE MAN if he gave over his unborn child as her ward. Desperate, my father agreed. When I was born, the enchantress took me away, named me Rapunzel (I think it relates to those rampion radishes - like a cruel inside joke) and when I got older she locked me in this tower.

That’s about how everything went down.

Now, I spend my days singing and working on my hair to get my beautician’s license. Nothing much else for me to do. During the day, Dame Gothel stops by with food. She calls up to me:

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair so that I may climb up your golden stair.”

Look, I know it’s corny. But the tower is high and I can’t hear much when people shout from the ground. Dame Gothel is a witch (actually, I could substitute another word in there easily) and she placed a spell on those words so I can hear them. I drape my hair down to the ground and the woman climbs up.

No, I don’t know why the witch just doesn’t ride her broom up here. Believe me; I get awful breakage along the roots with her tugging and yanking. Leaves me with a headache every time. And do you now how much cream relaxer I have to put in to get my hair long enough to the ground? Stinks, too.

Anyhow, late one night, I hear the magic words. It seems strange, the old woman doesn’t usually come at night, but I’m half asleep and thinking maybe she’s bringing desserts for a special occasion. I toss out my hair and the person climbs up.

Oh . . . MY! This is definitely not Dame Gothel.

Sweet! Let me tell you something. This man is looking fine. Tight sculpted butt. Six pack chest. Beautiful puppy dog eyes. And did I say he had one fine-looking backside? Hey, so nice I have to say it twice.

So we start getting along and checking each other out. He has this fetish for long-haired singers. He says he heard me a few nights back yet couldn’t get into the tower until he overheard Dame Gothel shouting the magic words. We talk throughout most of the night. When it’s almost sunrise, this gorgeous prince promises to help me escape by coming back each night with silk to weave into a ladder.

I ask him why he just doesn’t bring a rope next time, but he says there is none in the entire kingdom. It has to do with the rope factory workers going on a three-year strike or something.

During the day, Dame Gothel comes by with the food. At night, the prince comes by with the silk. I hide the silk under the bed. Then, one night, the prince brings more than just the silk.

Come on! I haven’t been with a man since . . . never! I have those urges like anyone else. Also, the way the moonlight comes in through the window, lighting him up like a Greek god, you can’t blame us for this.

So there we are up against the wall, knocking boots, when suddenly he curses out.

“What is it?” I ask between breaths.

He begins stuttering. “Oh, SNAP! I didn’t know this was going to happen. Damn. Hey, girl? I think the condom broke.”

“Are you for real?”

The prince acts all sheepish. “Yeah, I ain’t playing with you on this. It should be all right though. We did it while standing. Everyone knows it’s harder for a girl to get pregnant like that.”

I frown. “You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah. No worries, Boo. You know I love you and all. We’ll get married right after we get you out this tower. I ain’t no player,” he says.

Not much I can do but take his word for it. He leaves before Dame Gothel stops by. She acts all suspicious though. She picks up something from the floor. “What’s this?” She holds it out for me to get a good long look.

The condom wrapper.

Can’t really say much about it. The afterglow on my face gives me away. Dame Gothel threatens to toss me from the window, yet I tell her that I might be pregnant from the broken condom. Well, she isn’t going to do anything life-threatening to me now. Instead, she cuts off my hair and tells me to climb down and fend for myself in the wilderness. I hightail it out of there.

But what now? I forgot to ask my prince for his crib address, and I can’t wait for him around the tower without Dame Gothel getting angry. She might cast a spell over me. I wander around for several days until, hungry and exhausted, I collapse outside a house.

Dwarf Ralph’s Styling Shop.

The owner, Ralph, carries me inside. He used to be the eighth dwarf living with his brothers out by the mountains. Yet when this homeless waif came a-knocking, they had to make room for her. Since he wasn’t into the whole ‘mining for gold’ thing, he left to start his own hair stylist business.

Er, I mean BEAUTY TECHNICIAN business.

He learned about my skills and I stayed with him, paying my way by using my braid weaving skills while giving birth to my son. Then, one day, by the stream to get rinse water while singing to myself, a blind man appears.

My prince.

Crying, I rush over. I hold him close, and wouldn’t you know it? My tears heal his eyes. My prince tells me that he returned to the tower and called out the magic words. The braid came down, he climbed up, and the witch stood there. She went all psycho on him. They struggled and he fell out the window while holding the braid. He landed into the thorn bushes, getting blind. He wandered away while leaving the witch trapped up in her tower. He was passing along the road when he heard me singing and recognized the voice.

My son comes out and his father holds him close. I have my man, my son, my beautician’s license, and revenge on the trapped Dame Gothel. Life can’t get any better than this.


  1. Applauding .. way better than fractured fairy tales ...

  2. Fractured, in a good way. Thanks, very entertaining. ;-)

  3. You have a great site here. I have a travel blog myself which I hope to be a top resource for information on vacation destinations.

    I'd like to exchange links with you. Please let me know if this is possible.


  4. This is absolutely awesome, Michelle. I hope you're compiling all these re-worked stories together. They'd make a hell of a grouping, sure to be snatched up by the right agent. Great job.

  5. ah fractured but still a happy ending!

  6. This is really funny, Michelle. Good post.


  7. I love your writing, Michelle! Great update on a classic tale! Or have Trojans really been around for that long?

  8. Hey everyone! Sorry I've been a bit absent replying to comments. Been busy, busy, busy.

    Thanks for all your kind words.

    (And yes, I do believe Trojans have been around since 12th BC, although I'm still not sure how they fit those people in the tiny packets).

  9. Oh, wow!!! This is really creative!! Love the "voice" you give Rapunzel...so street smart!! And so, you had me from the get-go...kept me reading with suspense and incredible interest right to the end! Hurrah! ~Janine XO

  10. Excellent fun.

    I always wondered why that dopey prince didn't just haul a ladder to the tower. Thanks for explaining.

  11. I love it. Much better han that old, worn out version :)


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