Author's Notes: This is part of a series of fairy tales from whence Mosby must find "twue wuv" by his fourtieth birthday, or he will remain a beast forever. Debbie wrote part 1 called "Darcie's Bedtime Story: A Fractured Fairy Tale." Here is part 2:
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, (like in Montana somewheres), there was a sweet, young thing named Snow Deb. Now, Snow Deb was a first soprano who loved to sing Disney tunes, and she
loved to sing to all the woodland creatures, particularly the little mice. One fine day Snow Deb was tripping through the forest, literally tripping, for you see, Snow Deb was rather clumsy. But I
digress . . .
Anyways, one day when she was tripping through the forest singing a merry tune, Snow Deb got lost. She turned hither and thither, but she could not find her way out of the forest. And as the Montana
twilight turned into pitch darkness, Snow Deb became very, very afraid. The twittering of the little birdies she so loved turned into the screech of the Night Hawk and the great Horny Owl. Snow Deb
cowered under the spreading branches of a mighty oak, even though oaks don't grow in Montana. (Hey, you need to be able to suspend reality a bit our stories, don't you know?) The night seemed never-ending, and Snow Deb didn't sleep a wink as she listened to the wind sighing in the tree branches above her and
imagined all sorts of wild creatures that might be hiding in the dark, waiting to munch on her small, defenseless, person as she cowered, shivering, all through the interminable night. Whew!
Anyway, when dawn finally broke like an egg and the sun's gentle tendrils oozed down the might tree trunk, Snow Deb finally got the courage to venture out into the cold, cruel world. Oh what, may we
repeat, oh what was Snow Deb going to do?
Snow Deb hiked up her skirts and sallied forth into the deep, dark, and foreboding forest. Conveniently, she came upon a little ranch house. There was a sign on the door that read, "We don't rent
pigs." Snow Deb scratched her head, almost getting her fingers caught in her lustrous black locks, as she wondered why anyone would want to rent a pig. Anyway, it didn't look like anybody had been at
the ranch house for several days. Snow Deb knocked on the door and was answered by a resounding silence that echoed and echoed. (And yes, echoed.) Snow Deb opened the door and peered inside.
"Anyone there?" she sang out.
No answer.
Snow Deb stepped through the doorway and squinted into the dimly-lit interior. There were seven empty little whiskey bottles on the table. Beside them were seven dirty little metal plates that looked
like beans had been on them at one time. Snow Deb went to the stove to look for more beans, but alas, none were to be found. The cupboard was also bare. She looked for porridge, forgetting which
fairy tale she was actually in. Alas, no porridge.
Poor Snow Deb, hungry and tired, looked for somewhere to rest. She found a bunkhouse with seven little beds covered with dirty sheets. Curiously, there were names carved on each little cot. Snow Deb
sang them out loud: "Woodrow, Gus, Deets, Pea, Jake, Dish, and Jasper. Hmmm ... what curious names, she thought to herself. Snow Deb curled up in Gus' bed, pulled the dirty sheet over her head, and
fell fast asleep.
Naturally, the seven little men returned from a weary night of cattle rustling and were astounded to find the beautiful Snow Deb curled fast asleep on Gus' bed. As the maiden slept peacefully, the men wondered what to do with her. Woodrow wanted to wake her up and send her on her way, but Gus intervened. He wanted to offer her his carrot. (Or at least cut cards with her.) But before Gus could offer her a fresh variety of vegetables, Snow Deb woke up. Gentle Deets told them that she needed a place to stay, and Snow Deb began to take care of the little men. (Gus was persistent about the carrot and pea pod business, but Snow Deb had seen better gardens and told Gus to keep his vegetables to himself.)
Anyways, the seven little men grew right fond of Snow Deb. She cleaned their dirty little whiskey bottles and refilled them and cleaned heir dirty little sheets. The ranch house sparkled under her care,
and so did the seven little men. (Except Woodrow, who would rather die than sparkle.) Still, even Woodrow could not help but love her. The little ranch animals always gathered about her skirts, and
she sang to them the way she had the little woodland creatures.
One day, Woodrow decided that the little men needed to go steal some more cattle in Mexico (which is long ways away from Montana -- about as far away as Topanga Canyon). They left Snow Deb all alone in the ranch house, cooking and cleaning and singing in her most charming way. They told her not to open the door to strangers, and Snow Deb promised that she wouldn't, but alas, there came a knock upon the
door.
Snow Deb peeked outside, and was floored to see the charming Mosby (not the one from the book), but the debonair Southern colonel extraordinaire. He was the most gorgeous thing that she had ever
seen. The door faced east, and Mosby was the sun. Forgetting what the seven little men had told her, she opened the door.
"My dear," Mosby said, doffing his hat and rubbing his lower lip thoughtfully. "What are you doing out here all alone with no one to protect you, from, let's say, the likes of me?"
Although normally suspicious by nature, Snow Deb decided that this man could do no harm. He was too magnificent to be a bad guy, even though he wore a black hat.
Snow Deb, being a good person, offered him a glass of cool water. He did look a bit over-heated.
Mosby was so charmed by her generosity and hospitality that he fell in love with her on the spot, even though Snow Deb had not yet spoken to him.
Mosby went outside and brought her a bouquet of winterberries, even though it was summer. He also offered to chop some wood if Snow Deb would give him a little kiss. "Just a little kiss, my dear," he
drawled.
Snow Deb, who inexplicably talked like a valley girl when she wasn't singing, said, "Like, ewwwwwwwwwww. Don't even like, go there. I don't even like, trust you as far as I can like, throw you. Which isn't far. Like you are sooo smarmy. They like told me to like look out for wolves like you."
"Now don't be uncharitable, my dear. I mean you no harm. I love you so. I find you ... hmmm ... enticin'." Mosby moved in and embraced her. He squeezed her until she swooned.
Alarmed, Mosby carried her limp body over to the bed and laid her upon it. He hovered over her in concern (or something like that).
Snow Deb's lustrous locks became disheveled upon the pillow. Mosby whipped out his comb and attempted to rake through her raven tresses. But you see, Snow Deb had a mess of hair, and the comb got tangled in it. As Mosby tried to pull it loose, Snow Deb awoke. The pain from her head was too great, and she passed out again.
Mosby quickly fetched a drink to revive her. He gently raised her up off the bed and supported her head as he held the glass to her ruby red lips that contrasted with the lily-white pallor of her
skin.
Poor Snow Deb coughed and choked, and her lily-white pallor blanched even further. Mosby's heart cried in pain and anguish, for he thought that he had killed the beautiful maiden of his dreams. Even in death, her beauty moved him. (I'm not going to say how.) Mosby shook his fist in anger toward the heavens. "Why, dear God? Why?!?" In grief, Mosby buried his face in his hands. (Poor Mosby!)
Just then, the seven little men returned. (Remarkably, the seven little men did not question Mosby's presence. This is a fairy tale after all.) They were mighty peed off that their chief cook and whiskey bottle washer was dead. Gus was especially distraught, for now he had nowhere to proffer his vegetables. As for Mosby, the little men did not kill him. They saw his grief and felt it as well.
Mosby and the little men fashioned a glass trough to serve as Snow Deb's coffin. She was too beautiful to bury, and they kept constant vigil over her trough.
Amazingly, a dirty, but handsome little cowboy rode up on a beautiful snow white mare. He saw the lovely Snow Deb and was taken aback. What the hell was this beautiful maiden doing in a trough?
The handsome cowboy dismounted and said, "What the hell you doin'? She ain't dead. Watch this."
He went over to Snow Deb and pounded on her chest. "Snow! Snow! Damn you, Snow! Don't you be leavin' me!"
Snow Deb coughed and spat up a mouthful of water. She looked into the light shining brightly from the cowboy's blue eyes. Stars twinkled in Snow Deb's eyes. Stars twinkled in Call's eyes. (Just like Davy's in The Monkees) This was true love.
Snow Deb declared her love for Call, and the seven little men rejoiced. Mosby, however, was confused. HE was the one courting her in the first place.
Mosby said, "You already have seven little men. Why would you want another?"
Snow Deb could not turn from the bright light emanating from Call, so she could not answer him. She wished Mosby well and blew a kiss to each of the seven little men. She said to Gus, "You have ...
like ... such a nice garden."
Call put Snow Deb on the Hell Bitch, and they rode off into the sunset to live happily ever after in the livery where there would be lots of little mice for Snow Deb to sing to.
Mosby, alas, resumed his search for his own true love. Who could it be? He had heard tell of a beautiful maiden with long, blonde braids, living in a high rise in New York City. Would SHE be the one?? Only
time and the next story will tell ...
THE END
4/2003
