Rapunzel...the truth

the real story of Rapunzel.

Many people think that the story of Rapunzel is a fairy-tale. They
think it's an irritating story that an old man wrote because he had
nothing better to do since his retirement from the sweet shop down the
road. The truth is that Rapunzel is a true story, but the heroine isn't
called Rapunzel, her name is Doreen, and there is no hero, just a
spotty teenager who worked Saturdays at the sweet shop who happened to
have his penknife with him at the time. The old retired man from the
sweet shop didn't write the real story about Doreen because he didn't
think it was exciting enough for publication but I am not intelligent
enough to realise that he is right so you can choose for yourself which
story you prefer&;#8230;
Doreen wasn't a princess, but she was the daughter of an M.P, which is
nearly the same, just not as fun to brag about. She also had fairly
long hair which she kept in bunches because she thought it looked
sweet. The evil old witch was actually a disagreeable old woman who
yelled at children walking past her house and wouldn't return their
Frisbees. She had a twisted idea that home-help was acquired by
stealing a healthy young girl and locking her in your cellar without
feeding her until she agreed to tidy your house, clean your toilet and
cook your food. She'd tried to do this before, but the children had all
managed to walk out the cellar through the fairly obvious coal door at
the other end. They hadn't reported her because she wasn't dangerous
and there had been some quite valuable things in her cellar. The old
woman (who's name was Julie, incidentally, but it's not the right name
for an evil witch so we'll just call her the old woman) thought that
they had simply wasted away through lack of food from refusal to work.
This had gone on for a couple of years before Doreen came along with
the old woman becoming decidedly more and more irritable as she had to
do her own work at eighty-four years old.
The first thing that Doreen knew about her entrapment was when she was
hit around the head with a half-brick in a handbag. It wasn't original
but it was usually effective. Doreen blinked (she had a skull the
thickness of a Bible). The old woman tried again and when this didn't
work the old woman tried the different tack of inviting Doreen in for a
cup of tea "or something a little stronger, dear". Doreen trustingly
followed her, despite the fact that this woman had just hit her across
the head with a half-brick in a handbag. Twice.
On being locked in the cellar Doreen went to sleep. On being woken up
by the old woman demanding if she'd "had enough yet, dear?" Doreen went
back to sleep. She wasn't very bright but she was practical. Not
understanding that she could escape by that door on the other side of
the room with the daylight shining through it she proceeded to climb up
to a high up window to investigate. Doreen had just worked out that she
could fit through it but she still needed to find a way to get down the
other side without breaking her leg when the old woman came back in
demanding again if she was "ready to give up yet or do you want to
starve to death like the others, dear?" Doreen didn't answer because
the old woman spoke Lebanese and Doreen didn't and the old woman left
eventually, leaving the cellar door half-open absent-mindedly. Doreen
dashed to the door and, with a furtive look around, closed it. She
didn't want the old woman hearing her escape and coming to stop her!
Doreen tried to the window again but something was in the way. When
moving the stepladder out of the way Doreen had an idea. She could try
to climb down the wall on the other side. It would be tricky, but safer
than jumping. This worked well until she slipped and was only just
saved by one of her bunches being trapped in the window fame. Poor old
Doreen hung there lopsidedly, twisting slowly in the evening breeze. At
this point the spotty teenager/handsome prince came by and gaped her
while she screamed that she'd appreciate a little help, if it wasn't
too much trouble, please. Slowly he realised that he had possession of
a penknife (it was a very nice one, it had a fork and tweezers and
everything.) and cut her hair. That was the end of the story, nothing
interesting happened after that. The old woman never got home help and
was eventually carried off by some well-meaning retirement home people
and was never heard of again. The spotty teenager continued to be
spotty until his mid-thirties and then his spots were replaced with a
bad alcohol and darts problem. The old retired man from the sweet shop
decided to stop being retired and open up again because all the local
kids were throwing things at his house through lack of sugar. If
anybody noticed that cellars don't have windows high up then well done,
but what you didn't realise was that this old woman was mad, her house
was distorted from having such a mad old woman living in it for years,
and that I'm not entirely clear headed, either!
Doreen had her hair cut and stayed away from old women and was
confused for ever after, as we all are (especially after reading this
story!).