Fairy Tale Friday 11
Bitsoschlock and the Three Fails
Maybe it was because she couldn’t keep a job.
Maybe it was because she lived in a squalid shack in Alabama, and nobody liked her.
Maybe it was because of the voices in her head, constantly chanting a litany of menaces, including everything from the peaceful, sleepy people of Mexico to the threat that her favorite insipid television show might be cancelled by cruel, unfeeling corporate monsters.
Who can really know what troubles plagued her soul? Who cares? Whatever the reason, she decided to go for a walk in the woods.
After some time, she came to a charming cottage which belonged to a family of bears. The bears were not home, and Bitsoschlock let herself in.
Inside, she found the cottage to be well appointed and comfortable, clearly the home of a gainfully employed and well adjusted family. The shelves were lined with leather bound volumes of literature, and the refrigerator was full of fresh, nutritious foods.
She was enraged.
“Why should the BEARS have things I don’t have? I’ve been oppressed! I’m being targeted for unfair treatment.”
On the windowsill a freshly baked blueberry pie was cooling. “MY PIE”, said Bitsoschlock, and she mushed her face into it.
On the dining table, a crisp newspaper lay next to a fine cigar. “MY COUPONS. MY CIGAR.” shouted Bitsoschlock, and she cut the newspaper to pieces and defiled the cigar.
At that moment, the three bears returned home to find a grotesque
scene. The pie devoured, the newspaper cut to shreds, and the cigar practically disintegrated, and in the middle of the mess, a vile blob sat heaving and sweating, chunks of blueberry running down her cheeks.
"ROAAARRR!!" said Papa Bear. "LET'S EAT HER!"
"Too fatty," said Mama Bear. "Let's have her committed."
"Too wasteful", said Baby Bear. "But I have an idea."
And that is how the Three Bears became the foremost practitioners of vivisection for medical experimentation in the forest. All household chemicals and cosmetics used by the woodland creatures were tested for safety on a real live subject from that day forward, and everyone felt safe and happy. And when her poor old carcass was spent, and nothing further could be injected into it, or scraped into its folds, or snipped off to fester in a beaker of bubbling fluid, she was buried alive under a pile of stones, so no carrion birds would be tempted to eat her rancid and poisonous meat.
The end!