RumpelstiltskinJuly 14, 2009 at 11:23 am | Posted in The Knave | Leave a comment
Once upon a time, there was a doddering old fool, whose daughter was a modeling prospect for an elite agency in Paris. One day, while mistaking the royal throne room for a public lavatory, the fool turned around in surprise, his member still in hand, when the King of Germany entered. To distract the king from noticing what he had done to the seat of state, the fool said, “Your Heinous, I came here to brag to you about my daughter who is able to spin straw into gold.”
“How would spinning a piece of straw around turn it into gold?” asked the king.
“No, Your Mediocrity, she uses a spinning machine. It is what one would use to make yarn if one did not live near a Wal-Mart or other store where it could be bought and had access to the proper plant fibers, animal fur, or worm secretions.”
The king’s advisor, who was a Nobel Prize winning physicist, spoke up. “How would twisting straw turn it into gold and if she had such talent, why are you dressed in a potato sack rather than living in a grand mansion?”
“Enough,” said the king. “Bring your daughter to the castle tomorrow, and we shall see what she can do.”
“Yes, my Load,” said the fool.
The fool phoned the girl, who had been living with her mother after the annulment on the grounds that her father was not mentally competent to sign a legal contract, and told her that the King of Germany wanted to meet her because she was so pretty. This seemed reasonable to her and so she returned from France and went to the palace. Her father wandered off and got involved in a heated debate with a mule about plot holes in the film Mannequin Two: On the Move, never bothering to check in on his daughter again.
The king locked the girl in a room full of straw and told her: “If you cannot use this spinning wheel and reel to turn straw into gold, you die, because fairness dictates that if someone makes ridiculous claims about your abilities and then you fail to have those abilities then you must be punished!”
As the king closed the door on her, leaving her alone, the girl cried out, “What’s a spinning wheel?” She began to weep as she took out her cell phone and began to call everyone she knew. Unfortunately, no one was willing to break her out of the king’s prison, but they all agreed to create an online petition advocating her release and to de-fan the King of Germany on Facebook. From Wikipedia, she more or less figured out how the spinning device worked, but there was no indication of how to activate the straw to gold setting on the model she had been given.
Suddenly, the door opened, and a little man entered.
“Why are you crying, pretty lady?” he asked.
“I can’t figure out how to twist up all of this straw in such a way that it will turn into gold,” she said. “I’ve done it clockwise, counter-clockwise, even French braid and nothing works!”
“What will you give me if I do it for you?” asked the little man.
“I’ll sext you some jpegs from my camera phone. Top only though,” the girl offered.
The man gave her his digits and once the images were received, he seated himself in front of the wheel and turned all of the straw into gold. He then snuck out just before the king arrived. His Majesty was floored by the amount of free gold he suddenly had and only became greedier. He brought the girl to a larger room with more straw and commanded her to spin it into gold or he would spin her head off of her neck, which didn’t make any sense to the girl, but she didn’t really want to ask for the details.
As soon as the door locked, the girl dialed up the little man and asked him to return. In payment she offered to sext him some full frontal pictures, but warned: “Remember, it’s not like I can get a Brazilian around here.” Once the man received the images, he set to spinning all of the straw into gold, while she Tweeted about how it was impossible to get good cheese in a German prison.
The next day, the king was yet again amazed by the amount of gold the girl had created from threshed grain stalks with a primitive wooden device he had purchased on eBay for twenty-seven Euros. He decided he could really use some more gold though and also noticed that the girl was young and incredibly hot. “Listen here,” he addressed the girl, “if I take you to a larger room full of more straw and you can spin all of that into gold, rather than murder you in cold blood, I’ll marry you and never ask you to spin straw into gold again even though it would benefit the entire kingdom to have such an easy source of tax free revenue!”
“So more gold and I marry you, or I do nothing and you kill me?” she asked to clarify.
“Exactly. See! I am as fair as ever,” assured the king.
“Just one more question. Why do you have so many rooms of varying sizes full of straw?” the girl asked.
“A girl came through here last week whose mother insisted she could weave straw into platinum, but it didn’t work, so I had to kill her and now I’m stuck with a worthless loom.” He then left.
When the girl was alone, the short dude suddenly turned up and asked, “What will you give me to transform this straw into gold a third time?”
“A rim job,” the girl offered, “with condom?”
“Tempting,” said the man, “but instead, promise me that if you do marry the king you will give me your first child.”
“You’re a freak! What are you going to do with it?” she asked.
“Never you mind,” he said. “Do we have a deal?”
The girl decided that she could just get her tubes tied and there would be no consequence to her agreeing to the deal since she would never give birth. “Okay, I promise.”
When the king showed up the next day and found all that gold, he said, “I know we agreed that I’d marry you if you turned all the straw in the third room to gold, but you see, I have this giant warehouse full of straw….” The girl’s face filled with anguish and rage until the king said, “Just kidding. You should see the look on your face.”
Due to heavy security, the girl was unable to commit regicide and soon found herself married to her would-be executioner. Unfortunately, she was also unable to avoid the king’s lust until she had her tubal ligation and within a year she gave birth to a child.
The first time she was by herself, the little man who had helped her with her spinning showed up demanding payment. Even though she offered him her half of the entire kingdom, he would only accept the child to settle her debt. The queen began to cry and threatened to put out an Amber Alert on the man if he took her child.
“You seem to forget, Queenie, that I am a magical creature and so there is no way your mortal authorities can save your child. But, considering how much I still enjoy looking at your pictures every night, I shall give you a chance to keep your child. Within three days, you must find out my name.” He departed.
The queen desperately searched for any possible name. She asked everyone she saw and even sent servants out into the towns and cities to seek out names. She googled the Internet for websites with lists of baby names and compiled a spreadsheet of every possibility. When the unnamed man returned, she used a text to voice function to read every name incredibly fast, but not one was correct.
At wit’s end, the girl opened up a LexisNexis account and searched through the New York Times archives, public records, tax information, and so forth to find additional names. She brought in experts from around the world to provide names from obscure cultures. The name was not guessed. Even a group of cyber cryptologists she had hired to launch a brute force attack on the question of the name were unsuccessful with all of the additional combinations of syllables they fed her to recite to the little man.
On the third day, a messenger who had been sent out on the first day to go door to door seeking new names returned to the palace. The queen asked him what he had to report.
“I haven’t been able to find any new names, your Highness, but as I was climbing up a high mountain, just at the edge of the tree line, I came upon a little house done in a modern style with enormous plate glass windows all around. Through the windows, I saw a ridiculous little man jumping and hopping around while he became intimately acquainted with himself while looking at an image on his wide screen TV that remarkably resembled Your Majesty wearing the emperor’s new clothes, but certainly was not a real photograph.”
“Certainly not,” agreed the queen. “And?”
“Anyway, he was singing:
‘Today, I’ll microwave; tomorrow George Foreman grill,
The next day I’ll have the young queen’s child here at my place.
I am glad my only friend Tom did not do me ill
And reveal my name is Rumpelstiltskin on myspace.’
The messenger was dismissed and soon thereafter, the little man returned. “What is my name?” he inquired. “This is your final day.”
Smiling, the queen began to make guesses. “Is it Douchebag? Freakazoid? Assmunch? Taint?” The little man was becoming angry. “How about Jagoff? Dickweed? Nanoschlong? Pacifierpenis? Babyrattlecock?”
“That is enough. Give me your child now!” he demanded.
The queen said, “I still have time before the day ends, Rumpledforeskin.”
“What did you say?” The little man suddenly looked worried.
“I know your name is Rumpelstiltskin. My child will never be yours.” The queen smiled, then stuck her tongue out at him, then raspberried him.
“The devil has told you that!” cried Rumpelstiltskin. “The devil has told you that! Or was it Tom? I knew I should have signed up with Friendster!” In his anger the little man plunged his right foot down so hard it went right through the floor and he was trapped while the young queen laughed out loud. Humiliated and enraged, Rumpelstiltskin reached down with both hands and pulled at his left leg so hard that he tore himself in two. The queen rolled on the floor laughing until she recovered enough to go update her blog, Twitter, and Facebook. – The Knave