snow white real story

Have you met them? The little men, the vermins; have you heard them cause that tuk tuk tuk tuk sound, as they saw at the finer edges your brain; as they nibble at the fresh, greasy lumps of them wriggly-macaroni-like pieces that float in you brain like a weeks’ old garbage that you can smell from a distance?
Grossed out already? And we thought we’re just warming up to you yet!
So, the little men, yeah, the little dwarf men with long grimy beards than stink from not having being washed since you would never know when; the little wild men, dwarfed and all, with their slit-like evil eyes where machinations make sinister love with timeless human decadence - giving birth to depraved desires; these vermins, the little men, they don’t talk to you like good people do; they hiss in your brain like an evil spell… They go, psstt psstt psstt… And you can’t help but listen to their malevolent chant; it’s like an addiction, you know. Its like their chants are like a badmedicine and sometimes – bad medicine’s all you ever need.
So these little men, yeah, the one with sliced eyes that drip with dark tales, they speak in my head often. They hiss and moan and make merry and I hear them intently. With my head cocked to my left, with my eyes looking like they’ve been lost a long time and my breath unnaturally even, I sit on the swing, my feet thrusting my body go faster; I sit there and I watch my husband and my little daughter spend a Sunday afternoon like common folks do, and I listen to the little men hiss.
Pssttttt…
‘aww… look at the little bored lady’s bored husband, playing good daddy to that little pest. Hummph… he’s such a drag, we wonder how you ever spent ten good years of your life with this bag of bones. Don’t you feel you could’ve gotten a better deal? Don’t you think woman, you deserved a better catch than this balding middle aged moron? Aww.’
They hiss and I listen.
Then I say, ‘No, but then you’re wrong. You know he loves me! He takes good care of me and my daughter… and no! Don’t you dare call her a pest you bucketful of slime! She’s a little angel…’ I try to continue but then they’ve begun to hiss already.
‘Really, who’re you kidding, us or yourself?’ they mock me while they hiss like a million poisonous rattle-snakes, then they hiss a little more, ‘he takes good care of me and my daughter… says the little lady! Oh yes, then why do we hear you mumble, under your breath, each time you have to go through the rounds of ‘Hi Honey, Bi Honey, Drop G at the Piano class and pick up the laundry honey… I love you Honey and I’m not horny honey!!’ Bah!!! We know what you think little lady, we’re always listening, to your platitudes; and we’re always watching, the charade you manage to pull of so well… day after day after day – night after night!!’
They hiss and then all them, the million teeming tiny crawly worm-like little men; they begin laughing, together. And their laughter it rings in my ears like contagion and I so hate them!
Yes, I hate them! With every single tired damned breath that passes my body like a stale, dissatisfied breath of evil damned poison, I hate them!
I hate them, hate them and hate them a little more!
Who, you ask, the little men right?
I look at you like you’re the craziest bum – a sorry excuse for life - and I think, ‘Of course not! I mean that semi-bald, semi-senile moron I married in a fit of youthful passion and that little pest of a kid that came crawling by soon thereafter. They are the ones I hate!’
And while these thoughts brew up a filthy dangerous storm in my head, I sit there on the swing, a beatific smile plastered on my ebony face and my eyes as still as that of Madonna. I look at my ‘little family’ crooning in delight and I try hard to put on a good show.
My daughter runs up to me - she’s still seven and look how smart that little scamp is! She says, ‘Mama, can you gimme a kiss?’
And she waits for me to give her one of those sloppy wet kisses that she loves so much.
I tilt forward to kiss her when the hissing begins!
‘aww… look at the little miss goody two smart shoes begging for a kiss from little mama… bah! This stupid kid is the reason you couldn’t work up your way in the agency! Bah! You were the best goddamned copywriter there ever was… bah! Kissme Mama, kiss me….We say, little woman, slap her! Shock her-slap her-shock her… Make her pay!!!!’
They rage inside my head and I flinch. My daughter looks at me with a quizzical look; she’s tapping her feet and she’s getting inpatient.
‘Mama, the kiss…’ she whines.
If you want me to kiss and not slap you, you scum, act like you deserve the kiss…
I smile, my patent Madonna smile and give her a wet sloppy kiss and she’s on her way. My husband looks up at me from across the room where he’s indulging in one of his little shameless orgies with his laptop – and, he smiles at me.
Aww… look at the busy bald hubby! He even has time to give the little lady a smile…. Awww…
I smile back at him and Oh! I blow him a kiss too!
A death kiss?
Then I close my eyes and settle back comfortably on the cushioned swing. I wear the perfect Madonna look as my head reclines on the cushion… Then I summon the little men, with their slick beards and slit eyes; their rage and their hissing, their acidic breath and their little rebukes.
‘Okay, my little friends,’ I tell them, ‘give me a plan…’
And they begin hissing again.
Diabolize
Have you met them? The little men, the vermins; have you heard them cause that tuk tuk tuk tuk sound, as they saw at the finer edges your brain; as they nibble at the fresh, greasy lumps of them wriggly-macaroni-like pieces that float in you brain like a weeks’ old garbage that you can smell from a distance?
Grossed out already? And we thought we’re just warming up to you yet!
So, the little men, yeah, the little dwarf men with long grimy beards than stink from not having being washed since you would never know when; the little wild men, dwarfed and all, with their slit-like evil eyes where machinations make sinister love with timeless human decadence - giving birth to depraved desires; these vermins, the little men, they don’t talk to you like good people do; they hiss in your brain like an evil spell… They go, psstt psstt psstt… And you can’t help but listen to their malevolent chant; it’s like an addiction, you know. Its like their chants are like a bad medicine and sometimes – bad medicine’s all you ever need.
I watch her as she sits on the swing, a beatific smile plastered all over her cunning venomous face. Ha! She thinks I don’t know what she’s been thinking. Ha! She thinks she’s missus-know-it-all.
But then she doesn’t know about those little dwarfed men; yeah, the tiny sinister looking little men that love to go psstpsstpsst in my head. Ha! It’s funny I call them sinister when it’s for them that I get to know the truth.
Not how it looks, but how it really is.
Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk...
Ha! The angel eyed peaceful Madonna. She doesn’t know that when she thinks I’m busy tapping at my laptop, it’s her that I’m watching. Her every move, her every nuance; I read into her every action, every restless line that draws across her forehead as she tries to mask her impatience.
I watch.
I’ve been watching her a long time and she thinks that I’m a stupid smiling senile half-bald dorky husband who smiles stupidly at her as she sits and surveys all she thinks she’s a mistress to…
Ha! The things that people will think.
Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk
And now she’s plastering a fake stupid smile on the raucous little stupid twit! That pain! I wonder why she ever came along! All I ever wanted was peace and this is how I get it! Bah! The things people will do in the name of love…
Oh… and now she’s coming towards me! Maybe the sloppy wet kiss her phony mother planted on her rowdy hungry cheeks weren’t enough.
Okay. Never Mind.
‘Daddy!’ she whines as she comes and straddles my lap.
‘Daddy I wanna piggy ride your back!’
‘Sure hon, sure!’
‘Yeah right, Sure hon, sure… that little ruffian… She’s just like her mother. A stupid useless pest! I wanna piggy ride your back Daddy! Like I was really the half bald senile moron her mother thinks I am! Bah! I wish I could pretend I was loving giving you a piggy ride and while at it, I could hurl you across the garden, across the town, across this pathetic two storey life! Bah! Piggy ride!’
‘Daddyyyyy… The ride!’
‘Sure hon, sure!’
While I carry the little useless appendage of life across the garden, I watch her look at me on the sly. There’s a little wicked smile that’s lurking around the corner of her pinched lips but then she’s always been quite an actress. She slightly curls her upper lip and the evil smile… its looks beatific… well almost.
After going in circles for ten dreadful minutes, and after the stupid twit is satisfied with her dumb ride across the stupid garden, I walk back to my vantage point and I pretend to work again. I know that she hates me sit and tap at my laptop this way.
Well, she’ll never know but then that’s precisely why I do it.
Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk
Ha! She thinks I don’t know how she swears under her breath each time I try to draw her close to me; when she’s got to go through the motions of a married life, of pretending to be my wife, of tending to my needs. Hell I know she even hates sleeping next to me!
Ha! Well that’s precisely the reason I’ve found someone who likes doing what she hates! Ha! And she thinks I’m a senile going dumb bald bastard! Ha!
Missus Madonna will never know but then she’s only depriving herself of some great sex! Ha!
Her loss is someone’s gain and she’s loving it – hell yea!
Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk
Oh! It looks like Missus Madonna is bored of her stifling life on the swing. Maybe she needs some action. Cummon Baby, I’ll give ya plenty!
She’s walking towards me and suddenly her eyes wear that look of an adorable humble housewife and then she kneels beside me, her hand circling my back, rubbing it gently as if she really cared about how I break it working for these two little useless twits warming their asses back home. No longer.
She says, ‘Hon, you look tired baby. Do you want coffee? Why do you have to work so hard darling?’
Ummmm… and she pretends to plant her famous farce kisses on my brow and yawns.
Yea, she’s almost done with the motions.
I look up at her, my eyes puppy adoring and a dorky-bald-senile look spreading across my face. I say, ‘Nothing hon. Love you.’
‘Love you too baby.’ She says and turns and walks away.
Tul Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk Tuk
As I watch her receding back, they begin hissing again. The little vermins with slick sticky beards that stink from not being washed from God knows since when. They hiss in my head in unison and their hissing grows too loud for comfort.
Shhhh… I tell them.
Don’t Shhhhh us, you senile half bald useless bastard… they hiss.
Don’t you dare call me a senile half bald useless bastard… you bastards… I hiss back at them.
he he he he he he… they laugh. Well you can stop us, but what about her, they hiss…
I’m silent.
We have a plan, they say.
I’m still silent.
A good plan, they hiss in unison.
Okay, so what’s the plan, I hiss back, barely audible.
And they begin hissing again, this time, louder than ever.
Snow White’s Real Story- Finale
Pssst… pssstt… pssstt…
Do you see here?
Yes we do.
Isn’t she a miracle? Haven’t we been the architects of a masterpiece? Isn’t she just magnificent?
Yesssssss… she is. Psst.. pssttt… pssstttt…
She walks into the big house with unsteady steps. It’s late in the night but then she doesn’t remember the last time she cared. She’s searching for the keys to the front door when the light in the living room is switched on and as footsteps near her wasted body, she tenses.
The door creaks open. She’s standing there before her, her face masked with vague sleeplessness that borders worry.
‘Where have you been? Do you know what time it is?’
She doesn’t bother to answer her questions and walks into the house on two unsteady feet. She leaves her standing behind her, her face stricken with horror as she realizes that she’s woozy, and drunk.
She walks up to her from behind, pulls at her right shoulder.
She swivels around in anger, her eyes glazed and her lips set in a thin, angry line.
‘Don’t you dare put a finger on me, Okay? Don’t you dare, Mom!’
Then she turns around and disappears into the darkened hallway.
Pssstt… psssttt… psssttt…
Did you see that?
Yes, we did!
Wasn’t that just amazing?
Yes it was!
Looks like we’ve done it!
Well, almost.
It’s late in the morning, and like those forgotten Sundays years ago, today, its Sunday too.
He is sitting on the porch, newspapers and magazines scattered around him. His face is old and drawn and tired lines have etched themselves unmistakably across his creased forehead. He still has his laptop turned on. Its blinking at him like the ever watchful dark eyes of time, yet, lately he’s trying hard to cut down on his work.
She’s sitting opposite to him, on a swing that’s been there, well, almost forever. She’s still pretty, barring the few odd pounds and a set of dark lines that etch her smooth, once flawless forehead.
She’s sipping at her herbal tea and she’s staring out into the morning light. She sips at her tea slowly, almost contemplatively. Then she looks at him and opens her mouth to say something.
She says it, almost, but the blinking sinister eye of the laptop catches her eye.
She looks away.
It’s an elusive second but the moment she looks away, he looks up to her as if to say something. He watches her beautiful, calm face… almost Madonna like… and he turns away.
It was an elusive moment… but…
**********
She closes her eyes and rolls her tongue on the insides of her mouth. The tangy herbal taste, still lingers on her taste buds.
She thrusts the swing harder with her feet and a cool wind blows into her hair and she feels like she’s flying in a light gossamer void where she can see pictures of her past sliding in and out the nothingness.
She wonders if she can recall anything but bitterness. She wonders if there is anything else that has ever consumed her than the silent hatred that had been her best friend, her mute companion. Now, even its embers were dying down and she had begun to feel so lonely.
The recrimination, the dissatisfaction, the angst and the bitterness… she could see all of them floating in the void. She wanted so much to once again touch them and embrace them. She needed their company.
As she inches forward to touch her old friends, they suddenly morphed into grotesque slithery forms. They begin wagging at her malevolently and she could smell a festering odor seeping out of their putrid slimy wiggling bodies.
She looks at them with fear clouding her eyes. It’s not their ghastly veneer she’s scared of.
It’s the loneliness.
**********
He stares at the blank screen with unmoving eyes. He pretends that he’s busy, still.
The blinking cursor winks at him and he doesn’t feel like winking back.
He tries hard to recall all the dark, dismal feelings of hatred and betrayal that kept him going for so long; he seeks the solace they had given him all through these years.
He yearns for the little men; he years for their gruesome evil hissing.
There’s silence all around.
After a long time, he’s scared.
**********
She’s lying on her bed, naked under the covers. She’s been awake for some time now.
The events of last night come crashing down on her and she recalls the night full of passion and booze.
She remembers his fingers dancing on her wet, taut skin and she remembers the taste of Bloody Mary searing at her throat like the clutch of scathing, burning fingers. She recalls the torrid steamy party, the wanton sex and the flush of ecstasy…
She tries to remember the lightheadedness that the little round pill induced in her young, screaming body and she can feel desire rise up in her again.
Then she remembers the worry that the lined her cold eyes. Her mother’s cold eyes.
Pssttt… psstttt… psstttt…
‘Now you won’t believe that she really worries about you, do you?’ they hiss in her head as she cocks her head to the right to listen more carefully.
‘Maybe she does…’ she says in her head.
‘awww…. Look at the little love starved kitten mew as she’s thrown a morsel of fake love by little mama… awww….’ They hiss back.
‘But maybe they do love me… maybe they always did…’ she counters.
‘Yes… and that’s why you’ve grown a lonely, petrified kid all those years. That’s why you’ve cried yourself to sleep all through your childhood. Yes. Maybe they love. Maybe we don’t. Maybewe should just leave!’
The hissing suddenly stops.
‘No….’ she screams, this time aloud.
‘Please don’t go!’
He! He! He! He!
Pssstttt… psstttt… psstttt….
‘Knock Knock. Did you just call us back?’
‘Yes,’ she says, ‘I did!’
‘Good!’
‘Now listen little girl, and listen good,’ they hiss, the tempo of their voice rising, ‘don’t forget that they never loved you. Still don’t. They just want to prove that they have power over you and so they will act like real parents now. The real parents they never were. The real parents they never were when you needed them the most. They are vile, selfish people on a power drive…’
Hiss... Hiss… Hisss…..
‘… and we’ve been with you forever. And will be there forever too. We love you little girl. Now see you listened to us and didn’t you just have the time of your life yesterday night? Yesss…. We know it feels so goooddd… Yes… do it little girl! Do it! Yessss….’
And she turns around, on her stomach, a contented smile lighting up her pretty face. She’s in safe hands, she knows.
She’s Snow White and her Little Dwarf friends will protect her. She knows.
No harm will ever come to her till her little men are around.
She sleeps peacefully.
**********
While they watch; they grin and their ugly stinking whiskers slither on the ground like angry reptiles. They jump around in abandon and glee. They feed on her ravished innocence and breed more little men that stick to her skin like leprous contagion. They rub their hands together in satisfaction and their pet evil swims in their abysmal eyes like a swollen putrid corpse.
They lust for more of her, and her little untouched, unharmed innocence.
By and by, they think, by and by…
Hissss… hisss… hiss….

Just Dance @ 02:00