Snow White.

Jacquelyn couldn’t sleep, she just had seafood with her family, and a long journey to the northeast, and the soft pillows on the deep mattress were too early for her tired bones, and she had asked me to tell her the story of Snow White, in the way of my own.

“I’ll write a post for you, ok dear.”

“That is so sweet of you!”

And i’m reminiscing of Snow White, i remember it like this :

1.

Snow White was old, she lived on a pension that couldn’t buy her a new coffin, she wanted a new husband, and she was becoming a pedophile.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, turn on to channel E!, and show me of the freshest meat, who has got more money.” Said Snow White to the Magic Mirror.

To whom, the mirror had showed of young rich kids who wore diamonds on their teeth, and sparkling rims that spun big wheels, and houses bigger than her dream.

“Mmmm… i like.” And from her right elbow, Snow White dragged her hand onto her lips and nose, until they met the tip of her middle finger, wiping the traces of lust.

“You missed a spot Snow Witty. There, on your neck.” Told the Magic Mirror of the trickling drool that could have looked sexy, if it were to reach slowly to Snow White’s bosoms, and create a journey of such imagination.

“Oh, thank you, thank you.”

Snow White was old, she lived on the memory of her late husband, Prince Charming, who had found the true religion, and died as a suicide bomber. She was too old, she remembered to have slept with everyone in the royal family, and not worrying of carrying a baby, for she lived in the years of postmenopause.

Snow White needed a new adventure, and had thrown out the batteries from one of her toys, that vibrated fantastic happiness. She needed a warm flesh, who would call her dog, or horse, or rabbit or bunny or honey — of all names that could hurt her, — of all adventure that could make her hesitated and sore, she wanted to be loved and explored — wild like the wind, deep like the forest, arpeggiated like the broken chord.

Arpeggiated like the broken chord, she sang,

“oouuuhhh mmmmmm…
the glass coffin i’ve been in,
the poisoned apple and the poisonous glance,
of a prince,
who murdered my dance.

hmmm…….
oouuuuuuhhhh mmmmmm..

rest in peace, the best thing i’ve ever had,
of the sweetest kiss, who murdered my feet.”

Snow White’s took a bottle of Xanax, cried onto the pillow, and dreamed of Wilhelm and Jakob Grimm. She hated Disney, she loathed Mickey, and she wanted to go back to Germany.

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, turn on to channel E!, and show me of the freshest meat, who has got more money.” Said Snow White to the Magic Mirror.

To whom, the mirror had showed of younger kids who wore diamonds on their wrists, and sparkling rims that spun big wheels, and houses bigger than her earlier dream.

Snow White was old, she lived on a pension that couldn’t buy her a crystal coffin, she wanted a new husband, and she was becoming a nastier pedophile.