Rapunzel’s Choice

Rapunzel’s Choice

Her focus group was meeting today at the Denny’s off 440 and she was already late. She flitted around her room, absently picking up this and that, but stopped in front of the mirror to gaze at herself. She sighed. Her mind was in a fuddle about her life, and no matter what, she could not get herself moving. Her hair, all 12 feet of it, had been pulled on so often, first by her stepmother, and then by every Prince that came along who wanted to scale her tower that her scalp was constantly sore, and (gasp), she saw some thinning patches. Much to her chagrin, her great mound of hair had no style and lay drab on her melon of a head. And her roots; don’t even get me started on those roots, she thought. Still, complaining about her hair didn’t get her any closer to the root (ha!) of her problem— what to do with the rest of her life.

Cinderella had taken up the entire meeting last week bitching about her step sister Drusilla. Snow went on and on about Doc and his dimwitted ideas. The Little Mermaid, striving to keep herself wet, continually overshot with her water bottle, spraying everyone at the table but herself. It had been a miserable two hours, and the fries were even cold. It was just complain, complain, nag, nag, nag. They all, all of the most lauded women of Fairy-dom, did nothing but complain. But, Rappy knew there was only one cause, they all needed a man, their Prince whoever. Charming wasn’t it; he was taken. The incessant whining of the rest of the girls on the circuit (Red Riding Hood, the Baker’s wife, Cleo, Jill [but she already had Jack] was so frequent Rappy could hear it in her sleep. She had her dreams, but not of some smelly, scruffy bearded man skulking about in rusty armor, no. She, Rapunzel, wanted to be a podiatrist.

“Give me your cracked and bleeding heels, hammer toes, and bunions and I will straighten and soften and… and.” But that was the problem: She really didn’t have a good handle on what a podiatrist did. It’s just that they sounded so romantic.

Rappy sighed contentedly, imagining all of the ingrown toenails and corns she could cure, and all of the pretty pink little toes she could straighten before sending her patients off for grand expensive pedicures.

Enough of this. She gazed in the mirror, scrutinizing her appearance, turning her head one way and then the other. The ends of her hair were so split it stuck out at all angles. She grabbed a ball cap and shoved it down on her hair, then made her way to the Denny’s where the rest of the girls were meeting. The girls on the circuit met once a month and sat around the big table in the back room.

“Let’s get started,” Guinevere said, wrapping her gavel on the table. “We’ll discuss new business; we have to get the details ironed out about our upcoming dance.”

Snow White moaned. “I thought we canceled that.”

“No, we did not, we are going to have the dance, we need the revenue.” Guinevere said stridently.

Rappy rolled her eyes as all of the women of fairy-dom murmured to themselves.

“Who are we going to invite?” Said the Little Mermaid, spritzing herself and everyone else on her side of the table with her water bottle.

Guinevere sucked her teeth in irritation and cleared her throat roughly. “Here’s the deal, we have to have the dance. Not only does this club needs the revenue the dance will bring in to stay afloat, we, all of us are destined to meet our Prince Charming. And if we don’t get out there, how are we going to meet that special him, hum?” Again, a collective groan went up from around the table. Red Riding Hood stood up so quickly her chair fell backwards.

For the rest of the story pick up Not For Bedtime Stories. You can read it free