Fairy Tales and the Extremely Unquestioning People Within Them.

So lately I have been rereading the Grim's Fairy Tales. Possibly due to feeling too much like a peasant. It's kind of weird to read them now, as an adult. You start picking up on all the weird little shit that you never noticed as a kid. Like the fact that the stories will just make all sorts of statements like, “while the nix was at church, the children saw their chance and escaped.”

Like, oh of course nixs go to church. And I'm all like they do? Wait what the fuck is a nix? Then the story is all like, it was a water nix. And I'm all like, oh okay that makes -no more sense, really.

Whatever a nix is apparently they are very pious. Unless it was a satanic church. Which would probably explain why the nix didn't take the children with her. Although when you have captured two children and are making them your unwilling slaves, you might as well just go ahead and take them to the satanic church anyways. I mean your in this deep anyway right? Unless the other nixs will make fun of you. That might be bad.

Anyway I was reading along learning such important lessons as talking goats are assholes, and foxes might be smart, but they will fuck you over big time if given half a chance, when I came to this story: The Juniper Tree.

Now in the Juniper Tree a wife longs for a child 'as red as blood and white as snow' and she wishes so hard she gets pregnant and has the kid and then dies. Because midwives are for non magical births only, apparently. So her husband morns for a while and then remarries. Like you do. So stepmother and him boogie down (off screen of course) and have a girl.

Great. Good for them.

Except step wife realizes at some point that with his son in the picture, her daughter is going to get like nothing when the husband offs it. Which I have to stop here and say is a very good point, considering up to this juncture the women have been locked in towers and tarred and set upon by wild beasts for so much as thinking about, you know, perhaps not doing everything their male overlords have told them to do. I am sure inheriting your own forest shack or whatever would be miles above being stuck in a glass coffin for seven years cause you didn't want to marry the creepy magician.

Unfortunately the stepmother decides the best way to do this is to kill the guys son.

Not what I would have picked, but okay. Alright. Whatever.

She does this by telling him to get an apple out of a chest, and then cutting his head off with the lid. First off I have never heard of an apple chest and also, that had to be one bitchen lid. I mean like how heavy and sharp would that fucker have had to be? Like, making a pie in that house would be taking your life in your own hands.

Then she freaks the fuck out. Because you know, she just murdered her husbands son. Plus, I have beheaded plenty of chickens in my day, and let me assure you there would have been a lot of blood. I mean like a shit ton. I mean like if both Tim Burton and Quentin Tarantino had been directing this fairy tale amounts of blood.

Her solution?

Ha ha I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that it's gonna be fucked up. I know. What you're picturing, that's not fucked up enough. No, no it's not. More fucked up. Closer. Almost.

What she does?

If you guessed bind his neck up with a handkerchief, put the apple in his hand wait till the daughter gets home, tell her to get the apple, ignore her questions about how pale her brother is, and then tell the daughter to box his ears for not giving the apple to her so she does and then his head flies across the room and her own daughter thinks that she is the murderer you'd be right.

Yeah, it's that fucked up.

And when her girl asks WTF they are going to do now, she tells her will make him into puddings. I can think of oh about ten ways she could have handled this better. Because at this point her daughter starts to weep uncontrollably. The text is very clear on this. Weeping bitterly ain't got nothing on this. Which of course the girl child does THE ENTIRE TIME THEY ARE MAKING THE FOOD.

Picture this. Picture you have been out all day at your day job, whatever that is. Cutting trees, hunting, bringing in crops, you are tired so you head home. On your arrival you find your wife has made a shit ton of meat pudding. Like a crap ton. And your daughter is crying so hard she can't even speak. And your son in nowhere to be found.

So you're like where is my son. And your wife is all like, he is um, ah, visiting his uncle. And you're all like he left? Uh huh. Without even saying goodbye to me? And your wife is all like, have some pudding?

So you, your wife, and your daughter who is crying so hard I imagine all this conversation took place in yells over the sound of her sobbing, sit down to dinner.

Would eat you eat that fucking pudding?

I wouldn't.

And what do you think he did?

Yep.

Uh huh.

At that point I had to stop reading. Like, do you posses no analytical skills whatsoever? Like your whole house probably smells of puddings and blood, your wife (whom I picture as having an insane smile on her face) has just baked like a shit ton of fucking meat, and your daughter is crying so hard it hurts, AND your son is mysteriously missing, WTF are you thinking has just happened?

Does your wife normally do this? Just, bake a shit ton like that? In one day? With all this meat you have no idea how she afforded? Do you think that your daughter is just crying because she broke a nail?

Look, I know I have been reading through stories about talking drops of blood, glass mountains, a castle with servants who are cats, and talking magic fish who live at the bottom of wells, and girls that have gold fall out of their mouths when they speak, but this is where it all fell apart for me.

I'm not sure what that says about me, but I can tell you that if Scott ever starts making a shit ton of meat pies and I can't find any of the cats, I'm going to order a goddamned pizza.