Once Upon A Dyke Part 7

"Did the angel just say we're gonna meet a witch?" Gretel asked.

"Are... are you sure you know what you're doing?" Hansel asked me.

I'd had enough of people questioning my help. "Listen, kid, I don't see you coming up with any hot ideas of your own. But if you do, feel free." I waved a hand back toward the forest.

"What are we gonna do?" Gretel whispered to Hansel.

He shrugged. "Follow our angel."

I kept scanning the sky, hoping to see the white bird that would eventually lead the kids to the witch's house. According to the tale, it took three days for them to see the bird. I was hoping it had taken them three days to notice the creature.

We kept trudging forward, and it seemed like hours, but it was probably hours. I tried pinching myself to wake up, but it didn't work. I musta really clocked myself.

But, looking on the bright side, at least Gretel hadn't been saying anything too much. Darn good thing I was a d.y.k.e, 'cause I just really couldn't deal with kids unless I could make them drop and give me fifty.

When I looked back at them though, they were having trouble keeping up. I couldn't help but notice how pale and shaky they looked. Though they could probably last a few days, or maybe a week, they really needed to eat soon. I'd heard starvation was not a pleasant death. I think it ranked right up there with being slowly eaten by dung beetles. I grinned. Now, being slowly eaten by a woman would be something entirely different.

Oh, G.o.d. My mind was wandering and I was starting to get weak. I had to eat if I was going to be any match for the witch.

Now, logically I knew these kids would get by all right on their own, but it wouldn't be a pleasant experience. And, as a good d.y.k.e, I knew what these kids were going to have to go through would mar them for life. They'd need years of therapy to get over it!

I looked around for something we could eat. I might seriously have to consider killing something. Too bad there wasn't a stream, 'cause maybe I could handle fishing. That wouldn't be too bad, killing a fish, would it?

Then I heard gasps and I looked into the darkening gloom. At the edge of the glade there was a house made of food. The roof was cake, the walls were bread, and the windows were sugar.

"Let's eat!" I yelled, charging forward and grabbing a handful of wall. I noticed Hansel and Gretel went straight for the roof and windows. Just what I needed, munchkins on sugar highs.

"Nibble, nibble, nibble," came a high, croaky, aged voice from inside the house. "Who's nibbling on my house?"

Before I could stop him, Hansel responded, "The sun and the wind!"

This response would've made much more sense had the sun not just set. I glanced around, looking for something I could use as a weapon. According to the tale, the kids would get out of this, but only after a week of torture. Hansel would be held captive and fattened, while Gretel would have to eat sh.e.l.ls.

Not on my watch they wouldn't. The witch was supposed to get shoved into the oven when she tried to show Gretel how to check its heat, so she really wasn't that powerful. I walked around the house, looking at the surroundings.

If she had an oven, it was probably heated by wood, given this area and age. Thus, she must have a woodpile somewhere, and as I'd already proven once today, where's there's a woodpile, there's an axe.

Bingo! I hefted the axe in my hands. Major deja vu. Before today, I wasn't sure if I had ever hefted anything before in my life. Ah well. I checked the blade with my finger. It really wasn't that sharp. It was rather dull, actually.

I tried to imagine aiming it at the witch's neck, swinging it toward her and...

But... Okay. So from the tales, this witch isn't really too powerful, she just has some odd eating habits. But what if the tale is wrong? What if she is really a real witch, with like ma.s.so-destructive powers? C'mon, I watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I knew what a powerful witch could do.

Besides, I didn't like the idea of lopping someone's head off in the first place, but to have to swing and hit repeatedly? Giving her a chance to fight back? No way Jose. This wasn't some old wolf playing grandmother, this was a witch.

Then, well, I was a good d.y.k.e and I'd been to Michigan. The festival, not the state. Well, I'd been to the state too, I lived there and I was pretty sure this forest was still in Michigan, but that's beside the point. I'd done the festival in the hot muggy summer rain, chanting with Holly and Molly and m.u.f.fy. I'd done m.u.f.fy, too, but... focus, Cody.

The point I was struggling with was, well, what if this was a misunderstood good witch, a victim of patriarchal mistrust of feminine nature and oppression of old women and their unusual abodes? What if I chopped up a good Crone? How would I ever go topless and share tofu again? Well, now that I thought about it... maybe the key was to just get it over with quickly. Trust the fairy tale. Next time I was pa.s.sing the talking stick around the bonfire, I just wouldn't mention this little episode.

I looked around for something to sharpen the blade with. I wanted it nice and sharp. And of course, the only thing was another of those bleedin' leather straps. Oh, well, if this kept up, I'd be an expert with them.

I went back to join the kids just as the witch came out and tried to seduce them with pretty words. I tried to see her as a worthy Crone, but when she seemed to be measuring Hansel to see if he'd fit in a particular cook pot she had in mind, I decided politically correct hesitation might be fatal.

Not that I didn't hesitate some more. Let's think about this. I was just worrying about having to kill cute, fuzzy animals, and here I was about to lop the head off a person. But, again, I had just dissected a wolf, so, I guess I could put it all into perspective.

It was all a dream. I swung the axe and her head went flying while her body collapsed. Both spewing blood. Lots of blood. Some of it flying back onto my favorite Timberlands. Ick I dropped the axe and looked at the dumbstruck kids. "She was a witch. A really evil, wicked witch who wanted to eat you. She likes eating children. Likes the nice, tender meat."

"Oh, then it's all right," Hansel said, shrugging and continuing with his speed eating. The kid could really pack it away, too.

I knew we had more to accomplish here, plus this bread, cake and sugar meal just wasn't hitting the spot with me. The witch was a carnivore, after all, and even if she did like young children, she must eat something else as well. I went in, careful not to pull apart the somewhat sticky and flimsy door. I wondered if this climate was cool enough so that she never had to worry about it melting. Or had she rebuilt after every heat wave?

I looked around and called out, "Hansel, Gretel, dinner's served!"

After our tasty meal of... well, I didn't want to think what the meat was, but given the size, it was probably venison (oh, G.o.d, my ex Anne would never forgive me for eating Bambi!), but at least she had already prepared and cooked it. All we had to do was find the mustard.

We couldn't go anywhere safely until daylight because the forest was probably haunted and had trolls and such. Besides being bewitched. But as long as the predators thought the witch was still alive, we'd be fine in her house.

So I went and dug a makeshift grave into which I buried her body. I went back inside and searched the house with the help of the kids. We found the pearls and other jewels I knew were there, and I piled them up.

"In the morning, I'll take you two home. We'll take as many of these as we can carry, because these are what'll keep your parents from trying to lose you again."

"But what do we do tonight?" Hansel asked.

I looked around. "We crash here. You two share the bed. I'll sleep on the floor. No one will bother us. After all, they think the witch is still here."

Gretel jumped off the bed and hugged me. "We'll be safe with our angel."

Kids could grow on you. I left them with the blankets, but I took the witch's pillow and crawled up on the floor, pulling a shawl over me.

The floor was hard, I didn't have my air purifier, and I was cold. The d.a.m.ned kids had just better not snore, or I'd have to lop off their heads, too.

I wasn't gonna sleep a wink.

Chapter 4.

I rolled over and got scratched by a branch. Hold on, I was just asleep on a floor. When had a tree grown in the room?

Actually, I had just burst into the room and stopped Sal from beating Sheila again. I took Sal out with a single roundhouse, and Sheila collapsed in my arms, "Thank you, brave Cody. What would I do without you?"

But that had just been a dream. Just like falling asleep in the witch's cabin with Hansel and Gretel had been. And now I was finally coming to.

I knew I had hit my head in the mad race through the forest. I should be careful. I probably had a concussion. Maybe something worse. Like bugs crawling all over me.

I jolted upright, brushing away all of the non-existent bugs I knew were all over me.

I opened my eyes to make sure I was bug free and immediately covered them with my arm. It was sunrise, and I had awakened on the forest floor. I must've been out all night. Why hadn't anyone come looking for me? Didn't they care? Was I that s.h.i.tty of a friend? That horrible to be around? Come on, I was the one who would help with flat tires, with emergency moves when couples broke up, the one who could fix pipes and put together furniture-I was always helpful and friendly. People liked me. I had friends.

But apparently not friends who really cared about me.

I hoped Hansel and Gretel had listened to me and found their way home, with all their riches, safely. So they could live happily ever after.

That was just a dream. This was reality. I knew that was a dream because I remembered lopping off the witch's head, and getting her blood on me, and now I was clean. I checked the Timberlands carefully-nope, no blood, and, thankfully, no bugs either. d.a.m.n, the wicked sharp blade I had taken from the cottage was gone, too.

I slowly stood. Everything seemed to be in working order. I looked around. I was in a deep, dark forest. I still couldn't believe such a thing existed in the thumb of Michigan, but apparently, I was wrong.

It just seemed big. If I kept walking, I'd get to a road. I'd be able to find my car, then, and get home.

Using the sun as a guide, I started walking east. I was surprised I wasn't hungry. I hadn't eaten in-I glanced at my watch-at least twenty-four hours. I should be starving, but my stomach was acting as if I really had eaten a huge dinner the night before.

I glanced up at the sun to check my course, and saw the tower. It was ma.s.sive. Huge. Made of stone. It was tall and thin, as towers go. It looked like something I'd find in England, or somewhere like that. Not here. Not Michigan. Except maybe on a college campus, but then it'd be surrounded by students, other buildings, a coterie of protestors and falafel carts, a city, for f.u.c.k's sake.

I walked around the building, studying it. There were no doors, no ladders. There was just a single window, high above the ground.

Why the h.e.l.l would anyone ever build something like this with no means of entry? This was strange. But hold on, what if it was the Michigan Militia? There'd be a hidden access tunnel somewhere near. Could I be onto another of their paranoid plans?

I glanced around the forest, looking for some access to underground tunnels, and then I heard the most beautiful song that had ever graced my ears.

Her voice was music itself. And the words... the song immediately took me to a place of serenity and love. I looked around, trying to find the source of this pleasure, and realized it came from above.

It came from the single window. I looked up at it, and a beautiful woman leaned out, singing to the new day. She had the face and voice of a G.o.ddess. She sang to the world with yearning. With hope. With dreams and prayers. It was as if she had been locked away from everything forever, and she dreamed of something more.

Oh, s.h.i.t, it was corny, but the look on her face was wistful. I don't think I'd ever used that word before in my life, but it was the only word that fit.

Her face and her voice were wistful.

I knew how that felt. I knew how it felt to want more than the nine-to-five and a basic existence with just enough pleasures to keep you going-a DVD player, a CD burner, a car you didn't have to use gum on to keep running. I was living the good life, by all accounts and measures, but there was a reason I realized she was wistful. We both wanted real and true love.

And I didn't realize that until the moment I saw her.

Chapter 5.

I shook my head to pull myself back to reality. I had to remember who and where I was. And then I looked back up at the slender structure. A tower with no means of access. A single window and a beautiful damsel with a voice that could make you forget your own name.

A gorgeous femme trapped in a tower, drawing me to her with her beauty and voice.

I couldn't remember my name, I think it began with a C, or some hard sound like that, but I knew her hair was a long, golden mane. A mane long enough to reach the impossible length between her window and the ground below.

And although I can't quite remember my own name, as distracted by her voice as I am, I know her name.

And I know what I must say, I know it in my heart. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair that I may climb the golden stair!"

My throat was dry, and my words came out a harsh croak. She ceased her song and in moments I was taking hold of the golden braid. I pulled myself up and into her room, then rested on the sill, just looking at her.

"Who... who are you?" she asked. Her hair was still draped over the sill.

"I'm a friend, Rapunzel." She was breathtaking. Long blonde locks (talk about a femme making a butch's dream come true and never cutting her hair!), full red lips, a pet.i.te body, soft voice, b.r.e.a.s.t.s just big enough to fill your palms, and big, innocent green eyes.

Her gown was a simple robe of shimmering rose, settling around her feet like a fine mist. She was a dream come true. Totally.

She was young. I should keep my distance. Just here to save her, after all.

And leave her for some prince. Who would repeatedly leave her for other women. Princes were all alike, I was sure of that.

"A friend? I have never had one before." Her brow was furrowed in thought.

"You need to leave this tower."

"But this is all I know."

I swept my fingers through the silken locks that still draped the window sill. Again, what a butch's dream, well, at least the first six or seven feet of it! "You're a captive here."

"But there are no doors. How shall we escape?"

I held her gossamer hair in my hand, and looked around the room. I wasn't sure there was anything else that could hold our weight for a climb down. "We cut your hair."

"But then how shall grandmother come to visit me?"

"You won't be here any longer. You'll be out in the world. Living."

A smile touched her lips then. "Out there?"

"Yes, out there," I a.s.sured her as I pulled my switchblade. It was not as sharp as Red's grannie's knife, but it would cut hair.

She gasped at the sight of my blade. "I am but a helpless maiden.

What are you to do with me? Do you plan on ravishing me like some roguish pirate?"

Did I detect a hint of antic.i.p.ation? I reached forward to caress her soft cheek. "I'm rescuing you, like the handsome prince of your fantasies." I swiftly sliced through her hair, leaving her with locks that fell halfway down her back (the perfect length!). Stray wisps were like the caress of silk on my hand. I used a ribbon to tie off the loose ends of the braid, then attached it to the hooks sunk securely into the windowsill.

Laughing, Rapunzel shook her hair loose. "My head is so light now. I could fly!"

She danced around the room, her lithe, nubile body enjoying its new-found freedom, freed from the weight of her hair.

She was so young, virginal, untouched and unlearned. She was probably all of maybe about eighteen, at the oldest. Plus she was waiting for some prince to come and rescue her. One that would be so stupid he wouldn't pull her out of her lonesome tower when they first met-not until after they did the wild thing and the old witch found out. Which was what happened in the fairy tale-her prince just kept visiting her till they were found out, the moron.

Then the witch would pluck out his eyes and put him in a desert, or some such nonsense. Maybe the witch had the right idea, keeping all this beauty safe from unappreciative princes.