Humble and Gullible

Humble and Gullible

(Or Hansel and Gretel)

A Hilarious Rendition of the Classic Faerie Tale

By MiddleDude

The Boy

I wait, leaning against a tree, for nightfall, for the moon to rise and shine on the bread crumbs. 

Except it doesn’t.  I suppose I was being a little naïve hoping that the breadcrumbs would show.  Maybe it’s just that they aren’t visible in the moonlight, maybe birds or squirrels ate them.  Even the pebble idea barely worked.  I mean, who thought that you would be able to see pebbles in the moonlight?  Ridiculous!  Oh well, if Dad and Step-mom want to abandon us, who am I to protest?  Gretel realizes something is wrong, and starts crying softly.  She does that a lot. 

I can’t think of anything better to do, so I set off wandering into the woods with Gretel at my tail, following my every step. I don’t really expect to find anything or anyone; chances are we’ll die out here in the woods. Yeah, I know, I’m not much of an optimist. No. Wait. I can see lights through the trees ahead. I’m surprised and relieved that we were able to find our house. But something seems out of place. I pause at the edge of the woods, listening. The house is silent. There is no yelling, or screaming, or complaining. And now that I look closer, I’m not sure that it is our house.

It’s a different color than ours for starters; a bright white color instead of the dull brown of our wooden cabin. It also has a strange, large ornament above the door. The door in and of itself is a curiosity. It has a bright red coloring and the handle seems to be made of jawbreakers. The grass out front seems oddly colored, as though it’s more vibrant than is natural. There are large red and white, striped columns out front and opaque windows that look almost like… frosted sugar?

I suddenly look for Gretel and see that she’s already figured the strange house out. She’s sitting on the front lawn, stuffing the grass, which I guess must be some kind of stringy fruit candy. I walk to the house and reach up. I tear a chunk of the gingerbread roof off and stuff it in my mouth. I suppose I should think about how the owner of the little cabin would feel about me eating his or her roof, but I’m too hungry at the moment to care.

Incidentally, it’s right when I think this that the cane hits me over the head. I stumble forward and turn around to get a better look at my assailant. It’s an old lady, bent over at the waist, holding a large candy cane, which is now raised threateningly. I throw up my arms to ward off another blow, but instead I hear her speak. “Oh, why but you’re just a child! Silly me! You really must forgive me. There are just so many nasty people coming along trying to eat my house. Oh, but you look hungry!” She hobbles forward and tries to put an arm around my shoulder, but I draw back and look about for Gretel as I shove the rest of the gingerbread in my mouth. “Oh, you too dear!” she says, following my gaze. “Do come inside. What’s your name dear?” she asks Gretel.
“Gorlvelltbial,” says Gretel through a mouthful of candy grass.

“Haermbelle,” I say as I try to say my name. Realizing how terribly I just enunciated, I laugh aloud, spewing ginger-crumbs everywhere, and realizing how rude that probably seems doesn’t help my laughter.

“Oh, Humble and Gullible! What beautiful names! Do come inside. Come on.” She hobbled through the door into the house. I hesitate, but Gretel bounds up the steps and into the candy house. That makes up my mind. In no world would I leave my little sister alone in a house made of candy with a creepy old lady who had hit me over the head with a candy cane. I step inside, and am immediately awed by the vast assortment of candy lining the walls and lying on the ground. Gretel is sitting at a small table in the center of the room, shoveling candy into her mouth.

“Oh, do sit down! Have some candy!” she says ushering me over to the table. I sit down, and against my better judgment, start filling my mouth with candy. “Oh, have you finished?” she asks when we finish.

“Yes, we really must thank you,” I say. “But our parent and step-mom will be wondering where we are, and…” I try desperately to think of some excuse to leave the strange candy house and unnerving old lady who seems to be reading off a script. “Anyway, and, uhh… So we just, um. We have to, uh, go. So we do thank you… And…”

“Oh, but dear, you really must stay! Oh, I’m just so lonely out here in the middle of the forest!” Wait. When did the possibility of us staying with a complete stranger who lives in a house made of candy come up? I mean, whose insane, asinine, and inane idea was a candy house any way?

“Well, you see, I mean, don’t get me wrong, but, umm… we, and, it’s just that, well… You, umm, you’re, uhhhh… We, sorta, just, don’t. Know you. You know?” I look down at my shoes and wait for the old lady to respond. Instead, I feel something rap down onto my head.

When I come to, I’m locked in a small cage, candy littered about me.  Gretel is standing in a corner of the room, outside the cage, holding a broom, wearing an apron, and yes, whimpering and holding back tears.  I grab a handful of the candy and stuff it in my mouth.  “Wher’th v owld ady?” I ask her, my mouth full of candy.  

  

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, boy!” says a sharp voice behind me.  I make sure to thoroughly chew and swallow my candy before replying.

  

“You wouldn’t happen to be an evil, child-eating witch would you?” I ask turning around as much as I can in the cramped cage.  “Because if so, I have to warn you that I have a very high calorie count.”

  

“Shut up, Humble,” she snaps back.  

  

I grab another handful of candy and answer, “vmy mame’th not Herble, vmy mame’th Handthle.”  Well, so much for my second attempt at an introduction.

  

“I’m sure you are,” mutters the old witch under her breath.  “Now stick out your finger!” she commands.  “I have terrible eyesight, and I need to know how fat you are!”  I pick up a stray candy cane sitting on the ground and stick it through the bars.  “Well, you’re as thin as a stick.  Eat some more candy!”  I’ve probably gained a pound just sitting in the cage, but I decide not to mention it, and instead shovel some more candy into my mouth.  

  

The candy cane trick works for about two days, until the witch finally gets impatient.  “Gullible, start the oven!”  

  

“My name’s not Gullible, it’s Gretel,” Gretel mumbles.

“Whatever!  Gerbil!  Now start the oven!”  I decide that the witch must be hard of hearing as well as short of sight.  Gretel pauses as she nears the oven.

  

“B-but, I don’t know how to start an oven.”  This doesn’t make any sense whatsoever, as Step-mom was always too lazy to start it herself, she would have Gretel do it for her.  “I-I’ve never done it before…” she continues in her trembling voice.  

  

“What do you mean you don’t know how?  It’s the easiest thing in the world!”  

She’s right, I’ve done it plenty of times before, all you have to do is throw a match in the furnace.  It’s that simple.  

“Just light a match and throw it in the furnace!”  

See?

  

“T-th-the f-furnace?”  Wow, Gretel is really laying it on thick.

  

“You don’t know…  Oh, never mind, I’ll do it myself!”  The witch takes the box of matches off the counter and quickly lights one of them.  As she leans into the furnace though, Gretel gives her a large shove, tipping her over into the furnace.  Gretel quickly slams the small furnace door shut and locked the latch.  Well, I have to admit that I didn’t see that one coming.  She comes over and opens the door to the cage, and after much struggling, I am able to squeeze out the door (I’ve gained quite a bit of weight in the last couple days.)

  

“Are we going to go home now, Humble?” asks Gretel.

  

“Gullible, that is quite possibly the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

The Witch

I open the cupboard.  Nothing but candy.  Great for bait, but not much else; I mean really, the stuff is nasty.  But it attracts little children, so I scatter it in the lawn, in the house.  Really, the whole house is made of candy!  But, as I say, it attracts children, and that’s really worth any discomfort it may bring me.  Children are delicious.  Something about the perfect blend of texture and flavor is just absolutely divine.  It’s shocking, really, that they taste so good, considering all they really eat is candy.  But now I’m all out of children.  I finished the last one over lunch.  I had fried that one.  It had turned out a little charred, but I didn’t really mind.  Really, who doesn’t like a little char on their bacon?  

  

Anyway, it really is time that I restock.  Put out some signs in the middle of the forest.  Maybe some ads in the classifieds.  Really, just about anything works.  I really used to enjoy it when parents would just kick their teenagers out at random.  Those were really the good old days: children coming by every day.  I seriously had a feast almost every meal.  But those days really are over, and now you have to work for your dinner.  I mean, really, even a teenager would be nice.  People used to practically peddle their children.  I guess now they’re all too selfish to share.  

  

But wait.  I can hear noise outside.  I rush to the window and look outside.  There’s a man and a little girl outside.  The man is eating a large chunk of my roof, and the girl is sitting and chewing on my grass.  Wait, why is she chewing on my grass of all things?  I sneak to the back door, step outside and circle slowly around the house.  I look around the corner of the house and see the man chewing loudly on the gingerbread.  If I can knock him out, I can easily take the girl.  She’ll last for several meals if I can fatten her up.  I creep towards the man, raise my cane, and send it swinging in an arc towards his head.  An instant before the cane hits him, I realize that he’s really just a boy, like the girl, but it’s too late to check the blow.  The cane hits him really hard, causing a really loud resounding crack!.  I hurry to apologize, not wanting to frighten them off.  “Oh, why but you’re just a child!  Silly me!  You really must forgive me, there are just so many nasty people coming along trying to eat my house.  Oh, but you look hungry!”  I try to put an arm on his shoulder, but he backs away.  I really quickly change tactics.  “Oh, you too, dear!  Do come inside.  What’s your name dear?” I ask.  

  

“Gullible,” she answers through a mouthful of grass.

  

“Humble,” says the boy proudly, spewing gingerbread everywhere, and proceeding to spew even more as he starts to laugh randomly.  Really, getting gingerbread all over my front yard!  

  

“Oh, Humble and Gullible!  What beautiful names!  Do come inside.  Come on,” I say, inviting them inside.  The little girl literally skips up the steps and comes inside with me.  The boy comes in soon after, and I lay out a really big bowl of candy.  “Oh, do sit down!  Have some candy!” I say.  The children wolf the candy down really quickly.  And I decide to keep the little girl as a housemaid while I fatten the boy up.  But then I realize the boy is talking and starting to rise from the table.

  

“Yes, we really must thank you.  But our parent and step-mom will be wondering where we are, and…  Anyway, and, uhh… So we just, um.  We have to, uh, go.  So we do thank you… And…”  It’s obvious the boy is trying to find an excuse to leave, so I counter and try to play off his sympathy. 

  

“Oh, but dear, you really must stay!  Oh, I’m just so lonely out here in the middle of the forest!” I say in my most forlorn voice.

  

“Well, you see, I mean, don’t get me wrong, but, umm… we, and, it’s just that, well…  You, umm, you’re, uhhhh…  We, sorta, just, don’t.  Know you.  You know?”  The boy looks as though he’s about to bolt.  I really blow it.  I panic and hit him over the head with my cane, knocking him out.  The girl shrieks, and I have to quickly block the front door to keep her from leaving.  I quickly chain her up to a wall, and then pull the boy over into a small cage.  The girl is still shrieking, and it takes forever to get her to stop.  And then I make the mistake of explaining everything to her.  

  

“It’s okay, dear.  I won’t kill you for a long time yet.  First I’ll fatten up your brother and eat him.”  Despite my subtlety, this doesn’t seem to comfort the girl, as she starts to wail and sob once again.  Really, even when I explain that she’ll be my housemaid, she doesn’t calm down.  But inevitably she eventually calms down enough for me to unchain her and get her to sweep the floor.

  

It’s a couple hours later that the boy, Humble, wakes up.  He shoves a bunch of candy in his mouth (what a glutton!) and starts talking to the girl, who I guess is really his sister.  “Don’t talk with your mouth full, boy!” I say, as he spews more half-chewed candy all over the floor.  He swallows the large mouthful of candy before speaking.

  

“You wouldn’t happen to be an evil, child-eating witch would you?” he asks, looking at me really suspiciously.  But really, why would he think I’m a witch?  I mean really, cannibal?  Sure!  But witch…  That’s pushing the accusations a little far.  The boy continues, “Because if so, I have to warn you that I have a very high calorie count.”  “All the better to eat you for… Wait, wrong faerie tale,” I think.  The high-calorie children are always the best; they’re always the most juicy, and they have this really great tang too.  They also go great with some barbeque sauce or spicy salsa.  

  

“Shut up, Humble,” I say, really wishing he would. 

“My name’s not Humble, my name’s Handful,” says Humble/Handful through his candy-filled mouth.  At least, I think it’s what he said.  It really was hard to tell with all the food in his mouth.  

  

“I’m sure you are…” I mutter.  It really would be nice if he’d just make up his mind… Oh, well.  “Now stick out your finger.  I have terrible eyesight, and I need to know how fat you are!”  It’s true; I’ve been meaning to visit the eye doctor to get some glasses for months now, but I’ve never found the time.  I feel the blurry finger sticking out through the bars.  It’s bone thin.  “Well, you’re as thin as a stick.  Eat some more candy!” I command, and I hear the ensuing crunch of candy as he begins to eat.  

  

Two days of obnoxious children later, I really start to lose my patience, until I decide to just go ahead and eat the brat.  “Gullible, start the oven!” I order.  I’m already salivating at the thought of freshly cooked boy.  

“My name’s not Gullible, it’s Gerbil,” the girl mumbles loudly enough for me to hear.  Can’t these kids just make up their minds?  Really, choose a name already! 

  

“Whatever!  Gerbil!  Now start the oven!” I say, losing patience, especially with the thought of freshly baked boy on my mind.  But then the girl springs a real surprise.

“B-but, I don’t know how to start an oven.”  Really, she doesn’t know how to start an oven?  It’s the easiest thing in the world!  Really, I’d be willing to bet even Handful could do it.  “What do you mean you don’t know how?  It’s the easiest thing in the world!  Just light a match and throw it in the furnace!”  

  

“T-th-the f-furnace?” her voice trembles as she speaks.  I really lose patience with her.

  

“You don’t know…  Oh, never mind, I’ll do it myself!”  I snatch the matches off the table and light one.  But as I lean in to light the oven, I feel myself being propelled forward into the darkness of the furnace.  Then I can see the flames springing up about me, engulfing my body in fire.  And then there are flames of a different kind…

My feet are on solid ground again.  Really, where am I?  And who is that red man with the pointy horns?

The End