Once upon a time, in an enchanted kingdom that has long since been forgotten, lived a beautiful princess. She was the fairest young maiden in all the land, but she had a terrible curse set upon her. The evil sorceress Vennulga, jealous of the princess’s extraordinary beauty, had cast upon her a horrid spell of deep and eternal sleep. Plague and pestilence overran the kingdom, and its former beauty and honor were replaced by decay and corruption. The good people of the kingdom sorrowed deeply for their princess for they had all loved her dearly. For years they waited and longed for the day when a knight so daring would come and wake the princess with a sweet kiss, thus breaking the foul curse and bringing peace and prosperity to the kingdom once more.
All of the brave knights in the entire kingdom attempted to rescue the princess, but none of the valiant men who ventured into the tangle of thorns, which now surrounded the castle, were ever heard from again. Rumor spread that a fierce dragon stood sentinel outside the princess’s castle. And so the people of the kingdom wept and the land was overcome by sorrow—and the princess waited. Silently she lay inside the cold, deserted castle, guarded by a thicket of brambles and a sinister fire-breathing dragon, awaiting a mighty warrior to break the curse and free the land from Vennulga’s evil magic.
Then, one day, like the streaks of dawn cutting through the darkness of night, a bold hero approached. He was a knight of noble birth, clad in shining armor. He was large in stature with a dashing, chiseled chin, and sat atop a strong and noble steed. With one fluid motion, he was off his valiant mount. The brave knight approached the thorny thicket with sword drawn. He hacked his way through the brambles, without being so much as touched by the biting thorns. He emerged from the thicket and stood before the mighty castle. Sheathing his sword, he made his way to the castle gates with determination burning in his dreamy, sky blue eyes.
Then, like an infernal demon from the depths of Hades, the ferocious fire-breathing dragon climbed up from behind the brave night. The beast was a hundred feet tall if it was a foot, with scales that shimmered like polished steel, and claws as sharp as razors. The beast opened its monstrous mouth, drooling in anticipation of his next meal, and revealed more teeth than any man could count. It stretched out its mighty wings that were as large as a ship’s sail and, with a roar blew its scorching flame at the knight.
Like an agile cat, the knight rolled out of the flame’s path, came to his feet and delivered a fatal blow to the monster’s exposed belly. The wounded dragon let out a roar of pain, then fell to the earth, sending up billows of powdery dust. When the dust cleared, the slain beast lay there like a great steel-covered hill.
Before proceeding, the knight paused to brush the dust off his armor. He re-polished it until he could see his own dashing face in it again. Once he was presentable, he jumped through the castle’s broken gates. Snatching a torch from the wall, he boldly made his way through the castle’s dark passages. The walls were crumbling and there were bones and armor left from the previous unsuccessful knights, but the brave hero did not let that daunt him. He marched right through until he finally came to an elegantly carved door: the door to the princess’s room. The door was locked, so he took a step back and burst through the entryway with a mighty surge of force. After flashing a perfectly pearly white smile, the knight proceeded to the bed where the sleeping beauty lay.
Her face was a picture of serene beauty. Her hair was long and as golden as the sun’s rays. Her lips were red and pouting and her skin was as smooth as fine porcelain. The knight stood there at her bedside for a moment, gazing at her perfect beauty. Then, slowly, the knight lowered his perfect lips to hers, and they shared the curse-breaking kiss. The knight drew his lips away to see the effects of his efforts.
The princess’s eyes opened and her breath caught at the sight of her rescuer. “Ooh, what is your name, brave knight?” she asked.
“The name’s Charming, Prince Charming,” he replied, his perfect teeth sparking.
As he picked her up out of the bed to whisk her away, the castle was magically being transformed into its original and beautiful state. The crumbling stone walls were re-erected, the banners waved brightly in the gentle morning breeze again, and the beautiful statues were restored to their original elegance. Like a wave, the transformations moved out from the castle, putting fresh water back into the mote, and green grass back on the ground, along with happy little fish and happy little mice—all very beautiful and handsome for their kind, I might add.
The curse was finally broken and peace had returned for good. All were content—that is except for one young man who was hanging a good ten feet above the ground in the quickly disappearing brambles.
“Oh, no,” muttered the boy as he saw the thorns dissolve in a wave coming right at him. Suddenly, he found himself supported by nothing more than thin air, high above the ground. His immediate fall to the ground sent his mismatched and dented armor flying in all directions. His chipped and rusted sword landed feebly in the new, bright-green grass at his side.
This boy was a poor excuse for a knight indeed. Actually, he wasn’t really a knight at all, though he wished that he was. Every year he went to Knight in Shining Armor tryouts with high hopes, but every year he got cut. And I’m talking about the first cut, here. Every single year. He was that non-knightly. He was a nice kid, but he was poor, so he couldn’t afford any flashy armor; he made do with whatever he could find. No real knights would take him seriously, because of his bumbling and stumbling and just plain clumsling. His name was Earl. You see, even his name was non-knightly. Knights were supposed to have names like Sir Galahad and Sir Lancelot. Whoever heard of a Sir Earl?
Earl sat up drowsily and rubbed his head. He blinked a few times to get his bearings and then struggled to his feet with a moan. Slowly, he gathered up his scattered armor, losing a piece here or there when he bent down to pick up another. He glanced up at the castle to see Prince Charming and the Sleeping Beauty sharing a tender kiss. To Earl, it felt like a swift kick to the gut. Then, feeling defeated and utterly discouraged, Earl sulked off. He was wallowing in a pool of his own self pity, caught in a trap of his own sorrow, trudging through the muck of his own gloom, surrounded by the dark cloud of his own cheerlessness, pierced by the dagger of his own misery, stuck in the rut of own depression, besieged by the—
“Okay, we get it! I’m not in the best mood. Could you give it a rest?” said Earl.
Excuse me. I’m only trying to give the reader an accurate account of your tale. Forgive me for trying to help them feel your pain. Would you prefer “he was sad?”
“Just leave me alone,” said Earl solemnly.
Fine. I guess this is a bad time. Well, suffice it to say that Earl was really, really sad. But let’s move along with the story, shall we? So, Earl sulked back down the road to the village, and he planned on sulking all the way there. But, we’ll come back to his story a little later.
Meanwhile, there was a trial going on in the Fairyland County Courthouse.
“All rise, Honorable Judge Dumpty presiding,” said the bailiff as the judge waddled into the courtroom, which was full of gnomes, witches, wizards, elves, and fairies of all shapes and sizes. The judge took his seat on the stand, a look of disdain on his egg-white face. “You may be seated.” Everyone took their seat.
“The trial of the people—and pigs—verses the Big Bad Wolf will now come to order,” called out Judge Dumpty.
“Um, your honor, that’s just B.B. Wolfe,” said the plaintiff, timidly. “Or you could call me Benjamin or just plain Benny, if you’d like. A-and Wolfe is spelled with an ‘E’ at the end.” The wolf, showed a meek grin, however, the flat look he got from the Judge wiped the smile off his face. “Ju-just to get the record straight.”
“Indeed,” replied the Judge. “Mr. Stiltskin, you may begin with your opening statement.”
“Thank you, your honor,” said the prosecution, coming to his feet, “but I would ask that you not use my name—for personal reasons.”
“Very well,” said Judge Dumpty. “Proceed.”
“Ladies, Gentlemen, elves, gnomes, witches and let’s not forget fairies of the jury,” started Mr. Stiltskin, “I will only ask you to look at the facts and make the decision justice demands. Dozens of witnesses saw the Big Bad Wolf, or B.B. Wolfe, as he likes to call himself, perpetrating these crimes. His paw prints were found outside each home of the three little pigs. Straw and sticks were found in his fur. Dirt, much like the dirt from his very own garden was found in the bed of Little Red Riding Hood’s dear old grandmother, may she rest in peace. There is an abundance of evidence, nay I say a plethora of evidence, and I believe that you will find it very difficult not to convict this menace to society of his crimes. Thank you.” With that the prosecutor took his seat.
“The defense may make its opening statement,” stated the judge. “Mr. Pinocchio, you have the floor.”
Before getting up, Pinocchio leaned over and whispered to Benny, “This is my first case. Wish me luck.” The wolf’s eyes widened in utter disbelief as his lawyer made his first arguments. “Members of the jury, where should I begin? I don’t believe you should even be here today. The mere fact that my client was arrested is a crime against nature, or justice…or…or…whatever.” Benny didn’t have a clear view, but he thought he saw his lawyer’s nose start to grow. It seemed like it was a little bigger than it had been before. “It is obvious that my client was a victim of animal profiling simply because of the fact that he looks like a wolf.” Benny could have sworn that that nose used to be smaller. “The prosecution can’t even prove that he is, in fact, a wolf.” Now, the nose was twice as long as it had been before. “And even if he is a wolf, we can’t blame him for his natural instinctive behavior.” Mr. Pinocchio’s nose was now growing a few inches with every statement. “I’m not saying that he did actually do it. The prosecution has no solid proof. It is all circumstantial evidence and…um…hearsay, yeah that’s it, hearsay. There is nothing that places my client at the scene of the crime in either case. But even if he did do it, can we really blame him? I mean come on, he is a wolf.” Benny slapped a paw over his eyes. “I only ask that you look at the facts and you will find that my client is completely innocent…or at least that he’s not guilty, which is innocent, isn’t it?” As Mr. Pinocchio stopped speaking, his nose stopped growing, but by now it stuck out about three feet from his face. He sat down next to Benny, whose mouth was gaping open in astonishment. Pinocchio turned to Benny, knocking the wolf in the forehead with his nose. “I think that went well,” whispered Pinocchio.
Benny put his face into his paws in despair and murmured, “Sheesh, my own lawyer doesn’t believe me.”
Well, the rest of the trial proceeded much the same way. The forensic experts testified that the fur found at the crime scenes matched Benny’s fur and the sticks and hay found on Benny were the same kind of sticks and hay the Little Pigs used to make their houses and the mud found in Little Red Riding Hood’s Grandma’s bed was the same as the dirt at Benny’s house. And with all this evidence against them, the only things Pinocchio was able to prove were that mud and dirt were not exactly the same (mud has water mixed in it), hay and sticks are not the best materials for making a house, and that lots of animals have fur. Things were looking bleak for the defense, and they were not about to get better.
That was when the prosecution started calling their key witnesses. First they called one of the Little Pigs. I think it was the first one, with the straw house. “Now, Mr. Pig, will you please recount for the court the events of the day of the crime?” asked Mr. Stiltskin.
“Yes, yes of course,” said the pig. “I remember it like it was yesterday. I was busy making a cake to take over to the orphanage when I heard a knock on my door. I asked who it was and heard the wolf say, ‘Let me in or I’ll blow your house down!’ I thought it would be nice to have a guest, and maybe he could help me lick the batter off of my mixing spoon, but I hadn’t had time to shave that morning and was not presentable, so I told the wolf, ‘Not while I have hair on my chinny-chin-chin.’ That was when I heard a huge wind, and then I blacked out. When I woke up, I was covered in hay because my house had fallen down and the cake was gone. All those poor orphans got no dessert that day.” A sympathetic “Aaaaw,” filled the room.
“That is truly a tragedy. A real tragedy. But, Mr. Pig, can you point out the perpetrator of these crimes in the court?” asked the prosecution.
“Oh, yeah, he is right there,” the pig was pointing his hoof right at Benny. Gasps filled the courtroom.
When it was Pinocchio’s turn to cross-examine he asked, “Were you on friendly terms with my client before the alleged crimes took place?”
“Not really, I didn’t even know him,” said the pig.
“And did you resent the fact that wolves have been known to eat pigs in the past?”
“Well, I suppose so, I wouldn’t want to be eaten,” replied the pig with a giggle.
“No more questions, your honor,” Pinocchio stated, with a lot of overconfidence. He took his seat, sitting up proudly with a pleased grin on his face. Benny closed his eyes and shook his head, not wanting to see any more.
The other two pigs took the stand with the same outcome. Each one pointed Benny out as the perpetrator. And Pinocchio couldn’t cross-examine his way out of a paper bag. But if you thought it couldn’t get any worse for Mr. B.B. Wolfe, you were wrong. It was just about to get plenty worse.
Next, Little Red Riding Hood took the stand. She testified against Benny and pointed him out. She was followed by the Woodsman, who testified that he scared a wolf away from the home of Little Red Riding Hood’s Grandma. He too pointed Benny out as that wolf.
That was the end of the prosecution’s witnesses, but by this time, the jury was ready to throw the book at Benny, and not just a little story book either, but one of those big dusty books you find on a hard to reach shelf in an old library. The situation did look bleak indeed.
That was when Pinocchio called the defense witness that would prove an airtight alibi. The witness that would testify that Benny could not possibly have committed the crimes. This witness was a tree. With a tree as a witness, how could they lose?
The tree was sworn in and Pinocchio started his questions. “Now, Mr. Tree, did you see my client, Mr. Wolfe on the day of the crimes?”
Only silence was the reply from the tree.
“Mr. Tree, we are going to need your answer,” said Pinocchio after a moment.
Still silence.
“Mr. Tree, hello?”
“I’m just a tree, I can’t talk,” said the tree. He glanced nervously at the woodsman who was sharpening his axe with a scowl on his grizzled face. The tree sat there for a moment, looking around the room from the woodsman to the axe to Pinocchio, to Judge Dumpty.
Pinocchio looked confused, “Uuhh, Mr. Tree?”
“I said I’m just a tree! I can’t talk!” exclaimed the tree.
“That’s it!” cried the Judge, with anger hard-boiling behind his white face. “Jury, you have ten seconds to reach a verdict.”
The jury huddled for a moment, then sat back down and the forewitch stood to announce their decision. “We, the jury, find Mr. B.B. Wolfe—”
Just then a group of Fairyland Guards stormed into the courtroom. The room erupted in startled murmurs. “I demand to know what is going on here!” shouted Judge Dumpty.
The lead guard stepped forward, “We have here a warrant for the immediate arrest of a Mr. Rumpel Stiltskin for kidnapping, counterfeiting, and blackmailing.”
The prosecuting attorney stood up and shouted, “No, I’m innocent, you can’t take me!” He started jumping through the crowd with the guards in close pursuit. The whole courtroom erupted in chaos as the guards were shoving audience members out of the way to get the fleeing Rumpelstiltskin. The little guy was agile and giving the guards one heck of a time at catching him.
Benny wasn’t about to let this opportunity go. He was obviously going to be found guilty, though he knew he was innocent. “I’m outta’ here!” he said as he fled to the door. With all the commotion, no one noticed him go and he was off and running away from the courtroom and down the street. He had no plans of stopping any time soon either. He ran and ran, looking back to make sure no one was following him, until he finally felt that he could take a breather.
He stopped for a moment, but knew that he had to find some cover, fast, so he looked into the widows of the nearest house. No lights were on, and it seemed empty, so he tried the doorknob. It turned and the door came open. He looked around, and slinked inside the house, which could get him thrown in jail, for something he did do this time.
“Give me a break,” said Benny, “I’m a wolf on the run. Haven’t you ever seen ‘The Fugitive’?”
Movies don’t interest me. I’d rather spend my time reading a good book.
“Well, you ought to see it,” said Benny. “It’s a good one.”
I’ll look into it.
“Good, you won’t be disappoi—” he jumped inside the house and closed the door as a man walked by. Once the man had passed, Benny peeked out the door again and said, “You go check out that movie, and I’m just going to hide out here. You won’t give me away, will you?”
No, of course not.
“Good,” said Benny, “I’ll see you later then.”
With that, he took a quick look around the street to make sure there was no one watching him and shut the door. Little did he know that his choice of house was going to propel him on the greatest adventure of his life.