Once upon a time there lived a small girl named Handless Hansel. Now, mind you she wasn’t handless. She just had a habit of keeping her hands tucked in her pants often. And her names wasn’t Hansel. Hansel just went well next to Handless. And she wasn’t a small girl. She was actually 7 feet tall. And this story didn’t take place once upon a time. No, it actually happened on Tuesday.
Now Handless Hansel got the name Handless Hansel from a trio of boys. A nasty trio of boys. The were a mean spirited bunch. A no good bunch. Generally, an evil bunch.
They would tease:
“Handless Hansel,Handless Hansel, where had your hands gone?”
They would slander:
“Handless Hansel,Handless Hansel, what did you steal that you keep in your pockets?”
And they would outright ridicule:
“Handless Hansel,Handless Hansel, are you parents called Palmless Papa, and Mother Stump?”
Handless Hansel endured the boys best she could. From sun up to sun down, day in, day out, month after month, year after year. But the trio of boys did not relent. In fact, they became even more ruthless in their attacks.
The trio of boys would try poetry:
“Handless Hansel,Handless Hansel, hand me that pretzel.”
The trio of boys would try to play a pun:
“Handless Hansel,Handless Hansel, oh look a handle-less teasel.”
And the trio of boys would try at haikus:
“O Handless Hansel,Handless Hansel. How many finger do you have? O Handless Hansel, Handless Hansel.”
Now, while all these poems, puns, and haikus were terrible, they still struck at Hansel rather hurtfully. Our heroine was forced to endure all of this suffering for years. She would sulk in her corner, cry under her bed sheets, and wale in her sleep. Until, one night, when she had an idea. A great idea. The best idea she ever had. She would invite all three boys over for dinner, and solve their misgivings with her, once and for all.
And that, dear reader brings us to Tuesday.
The first one to arrive was the glutinous member of the trio. He liked to eat, a lot. He liked to eat everything, and quite frankly never showed any gratitude for any meal.
“Handless Hansel,Handless Hansel how are you to cook without your hands,” he said upon arrival.
“Handless Hansel,Handless Hansel, I like my meat dripping with red stuff when I bite into it,” he said upon scouting the courses.
“Handless Hansel,Handless Hansel. This meal is all mine, you can’t have any,” he said before falling to a baseball bat blow to the back of his head.
The glutinous boy was dirty, so she drew him a bath. In a cauldron. Over a very hot fire. She bound the boy to the bottom of the pot with a chain. She added sage and rosemary, for flavor. Potato and carrots for nourishment. salt and pepper to her taste. And, most importantly, chicken stock. For any good chef knows that a good chicken stock is essential to any soup.
The boy awoke, howling in pain. He howled Handless Hansel’s true name, ordering to be freed.
“Bound boy, bound boy, how are you to escape without your hands,” she said.
The boy plead in agony to be freed, using Handless Hansel’s true name.
“Bound boy, bound boy, I like my meat dripping with red stuff when I bite into it,” she said.
The boy, deep in despair and chicken stock both, apologize for past transgression a begged to be free from the pot.
“Bound boy, bound boy. This meal is all yours, I can’t have any,” she said.
She brought the soup to a simmer, as the boy’s body swayed lifelessly in the pot. The soup smelled great! No- Delicious! A definite five star meal, but she would not eat it. eating such a soup would be a monstrous act-and she was no monster,
The second boy to arrive had a chill. He would sneeze and shiver, shiver and sneeze. All the while wiping his snot on his fingers and flicking it around the room.
“Handless Hansel, Handless Hansel, oh how warm the fire is,” he said.
“Handless Hansel, Handless Hansel. fetch me some hot tea now,” he chirped as he sat by the fire.
“Handless Hansel,Handless Hansel, do bring bags of sugar for my tea. I’ll faint if you’re too poor to have them,” he quipped before falling from a flying pan’s fling.
The snooty and cold boy was chained to a metal bar, and placed over the fire. Handless Hansel stoked the fire high, aided by the gasoline and fire logs she constantly feed to the fire. the whole room was lit up in a bright light.
When the boy awoke, he was shouting to be released. His shouts carried Handless Hansel’s true name and hot cinders.
“Bound boy, bound boy, oh how warm the fire is,” she said as she descended him into the fire.
The boy begged for mercy, Handless Hansel’s true name.
“Bound boy, bound boy, your hot tea has been fetched,” she sang as she poured the scalding tea on his head.
The boy, in tears and despair, apologize to Handless Hansel for all he said, calling her by her true name.
“Bound boy, bound boy,here is you sugar bag,” she placed a large sugar bag over his head and descended him fully into the pyre.
The boy kicked a lot. The boy screamed a lot. And the boy begged a lot. Then, all of a sudden, the stopped his screaming, his begging, and his kicking. The boy was crisp, well done, and looked positively scrumptious. Handless Hansel drooled at the sight of him.
The third boy rang the doorbell an hour later. He was a whole hour late. He stormed in, angry and aggravated. Criticizing the busses that ran on delays. Criticizing Handless Hansel for living oh so far away. Demanding to be seated right away.
“Handless Hansel, Handless Hansel, why did you invite me here, anyway?” The boy hooted houghtly.
“Handless Hansel, Handless Hansel, this party is quite dull. I should have stayed home,” the boy ran his mouth needlessly.
“Handless Hansel, Handless Hansel, where are my friends?” The boy asked in a moment of clarity. A moment that came a moment too late. A moment before the moment of a rather large object brought him to a kiss with the ground.
Handless Hansel tied the late comer to a chair. Leather straps strapped him across the wrists and ankles. Electrodes were clamped on his ear lobes and nose. She ran a jolt of electricity into the boy’s skull.
The boy screamed in pain, using Handless Hansel’s true name, yelling at her to stop.
“Bound boy, bound boy, this is why i invited you here,” she said as she cranked up the voltage.
The boy chatted with electricity, spelling out help and Handless Hansel’s true name with broken syllables.
“Bound boy, bound boy, you should have stayed home,” she teased.
The boy spoke his last work, asking for forgiveness, promise to only use Handless Hansel’s true name.
“Bound boy, bound boy, here are your friends,” she said as she delivered the lethal dose of electricity to the boy.
The light of the boy’s eyes went out, and his head dropped down.
Our heroine completed her dinner. She had a stupendous soup, a marvelous meat dish cooked over a flame, and a fried, scrumptious snack. All of the boys looked appetizing,absolutely a mouth watering sight. Yet, she would not eat them. No - cannibalism was only reserved for ogres. And she was no ogre.
After that Tuesday, no one called the little girl- who wasn’t actually little, Handless Hansel. In fact, she lived happily ever after.
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