The New Snow White, Part 2

The king was found in his bed the next morning, stabbed to death. There was no trace of the murder weapon.

In her chambers the Queen was reading a document that she, upon heavy searching, found in the Kings chambers, after his untimely demise of course. Silent tears streaked across her face as she read that even on this revised last will and testament the King bequeaths everything to his daughter Snow White and asks only that Snow makes sure that the Queen retires and is cared for in a moderate living standard. After all she had done for them, this is how he repays her. Then she hears a voice, and at first she is not sure if it is in her head.

“There doesn’t have to be a last will and testament Grimhilda” She looks around her, questioningly, and answers to the indivisible voice “But I have it here in my hands.” Again the voice speaks “No you don’t. That is just a piece of paper. A piece of paper that needs to be burned.” As the voice speaks Grimhilda rises and follows it’s low monotone. Looking into the blue eye of the mirror she responds

“What do you mean?” Remaining completely unemotional the mirror responds “If the King has no Testament then his belongings is claimed by the state.” Her eyes begin to sparkle and a grin forms on her face as she finishes his words “As Queen of the realm, I am the state.” With a contemplative expression the Queen walks to the fireplace in her chambers. Her eyes glance to mirror and then back to the papers in her hand. At the flick of her wrist the last will and testament of the King is transformed to ashes.

Grimhilde from the Original Disney Classic

“There is of course the issue of the beautiful Snow White” she hears the mirror commenting. Turning back to the mirror the Queen confesses, “I have always wanted a daughter. Now that her father is no longer in the way, it is my hope that we can become mother and daughter. She will after all seek comfort from someone. I will be a role model mother.” The mirror smiles knowingly and as he disappears again, the words echo “Of course you will.”

In the months that pass, Grimhilda tries everything to be the perfect mother to the young Snow White.  She pays attention to her, plays with her, takes her for walks and reads to her. They spend every moment together. Well every moment that the Queen is not finding her own comfort with the rugged Huntsman who has become a frequent private guest in her cambers. Now no one can prove anything, but everyone knows that they are doing it. After all any woman and gay man alive would do it with the huntsman. A Greek God sculpted from Marble and made to flesh by Zeus, given the ruggedness of Aries and the sex drive of Aphrodite.

Life seems perfect, except for one tiny little something. The beautiful Snow White is an ungrateful little bitch. Obviously all the years that she has been spoilt by her father has left a terrible scar on the manners of this child and nothing was going to change that. Grimhilda tried everything. It seems that the harder she tried to be a perfect mother the more Snow would rebel. She was the constant target for the Princesses name calling and embarrassment.

But as stated the Queen found comfort in the arms and on the lap of the Huntsman, who was also very happy to give it. He wasn’t the brightest of men but he had everything else.

One night after the throws of passion released them and the huntsman was asleep, Grimhilda saw a letter in the huntsman’s bag. Oh relax she didn’t snoop. He threw the damn bag on the floor in the heat of passion, it fell open and the letter was lying half way out of the bag practically begging to be read. Well that’s how history will reflect it.

“Dear George” his name was George? Then again who was she to Judge on kak names

“Please do not spend another night with that old hag. I miss you when you are not with me. My loins ache for you. Why do you want that hideous Grim thing when you can have all of me at any given time.

Love

Snow”

As you can imagine this was the straw that broke the camels back. She tore up the letter and practically woke up and kicked the huntsman, ….or George (hehehehehe stupid name) out of her chambers in one move. 

She has given everything to that little brat. Been there for her through thick and thin. In the last two years since the Kings death, she, Grimhilda, has been the one to give Snow everything. All of this and only to find out that the little 16 year old tart was fucking her dumb gorgeous bastard, whilst implying that she Grimhilda was an ugly old hag.

She was pacing her room, screaming while the tears ran down her face. The humiliation, the ungratefulness, it was all too much for her. And to be called “that hideous Grim thing’ on top of it all. Well saying that she was pissed off is a complete understatement. Wouldn’t you be? What could she do?

Time stopped. She paused and glanced to her side where she saw her reflection in the mirror. Slowly, now filled with anger and jealousy and hate she walked towards the mirror and as she did she summoned the man who lives in it,

“Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is the most beautiful of them all?”

Her reflection became a blur and in a few moments the raven-haired beauty was staring back at her.

“You my Queen, has beauty such as no one has ever seen before. But one is rising to challenge that. She has already begun and if chance goes her way, will destroy you”

Grimhilda narrowed her eyes, started twisting her dress in her fists and spat back at the mirror “Not if I kill the little bitch first”

The New Snow White, Part 1

This weekend past at dinner/movie club, we watched Mirror Mirror. Again the poor witch is the one that gets the shortest end of the damn stick. I don’t know who of you will remember this entry that I made about this very issue

http://insidezeo.blogspot.com/2011/07/fairytale-land-conspiracy.html

So all of this has led me to decide that I am going to re-write the damn fairytales. So I am starting with Snow White and yes this will also be done in parts. So without further hold-up, here is the new Snow White.

A long long time ago in a country, in or close to Europe, but definitely not Germany. Then again now that I think about it, they may have been German, it will certainly explain a lot………., anyway way back to my story.

A long long time ago in Germany, there lived a beautiful Queen with her husband the King. The Kingdom was happy and joyful, for they would soon celebrate the birth of the first royal daughter. They knew it was a daughter because the royal Tarot reader told them it would be one and she is good.  Gay men everywhere were flabbergasted, and the priests were delighted, as they couldn’t afford another scandal.

One cold day while the snow was falling outside the Queen was sitting by a fire, gazing through a window, as she was busy hand embroidering the Princesses first dress, when she saw some kitchen maid and stable boy entering the stables together. Lost in the carnal regions of her longing mind she doesn’t look at what she is doing and stabs her finger with the needle. Red blood drips down her arm. “Fucking Christ!” the queen screams at the sting, the stain will be the maids problem, not hers.

A maid that was standing outside waiting to be of service to the queen enters the room, sees what happened and thinks to herself “Fucking pansy” as she is dismissed from the room. The Queen looks down at the blood and wonders how beautiful it must be to have red lips like the blood. How much effort she could save if her lips were always this red. In thought she then wishes that her daughter would have lips as red as blood. But vanity and pride are awful things. So she wishes that her daughter will have skin as flawless as snow and hair as black as soot. Therefore she will never need lipstick, foundation or hair dye. This will clearly save on a lot of effort and time.

Six months later the Queen gives birth to a beautiful little girl who is everything that she had wished for and they call her Snow White. But due to bad medical practices and a poor healthcare system in Germany, a long long time ago, the Queen lost too much blood and within the next month she unfortunately died, leaving the King to order the castle maids to raise his daughter. Not like he knows how to raise a kid. But luck smiles on the little girl as a very close bond develops between her and her father, him being in the closet and all. It was like having his own real Barbie doll.

Days become weeks, weeks became months, months became years and when the girl hits her terrible teens the entire castle has had enough. The king decides that he will have to hide all of his gay porn and take another wife again. One that can keep a firm hand on his Snow White. One that can be a mother to her and take her under her wing. He goes to the Tarot reader once more and asks her to gaze into the crystal ball for a mail order bride. For hours they look at profiles and likes and dislikes until they see a profile photo of Grimhilda. Kak name but the most stunning woman you have ever seen in your life. I tell you Angelina has nothing on her. The most beautiful green eyes, blond hair, perfect C-cups, an ass you can bounce coins of off and legs that can wrap around you twice. Using his PayPal account he makes the payment and two weeks later a lavish carriage enters the castle grounds. The entire senior staff, the King and Snow White is rounded up to meet this gorgeous woman. When she steps out of the carriage the entire group of people is awestruck by her beauty. People are dripping like township taps, irrespective of their sexual preference. This new Queen is hot! She glides towards the King who has to hide his wet spot and curtseys in front of him. He takes her by the hand and very quickly introduces her to everyone before he immediately drags her off to his bedroom where he rips the clothes off of her. And she gladly obliges and gives him a blowjob that he will never forget. For two years Grimhilda takes care of the Snow White. Her husband she knows is a fag and treats her like shit. The little girl is rebellious and wont listen to anything she has to say. She keeps on throwing things at Grimhilda and screams at her “You are not my Mother!” All in all, life for the Queen of Germany, a long long time ago, is pretty fucked up.

Then one day at the town market she sees a gypsy woman selling a huge ornate mirror, must have been from India. It is a stunning mirror and the Gypsy tells her that it is enchanted. “The mirror will show you who is the most of anything, if you ask it” the gypsy explains. Grimhilda swipes her black American Express and the mirror is then put in her elaborate walk in closet. For a while she just looks at the mirror and she can’t believe what the gypsy had said, surely magick is not real and so the mirror is never used for anything other than a normal mirror. One day when the King is once again drunk he demands Grimhilda to dress as a boy and then he wants to take her from behind. She refuses and in the Kings drunken state he hits her with his belt. Not once, not twice but over and over all while he is screaming at her to remember that he is the most powerful man in the entire world. In between the blows to her face and body she some how gets free from him and runs to go hide. Runs into her bedroom and locks the door. Then into the closet and locks that door. Sobbing behind clothing rails the sun makes the mirror glint behind her.  In her sobbing state she slowly rises and looks at the huge ornate monster and remembers the words of the gypsy woman.

Pulling herself together and whipping her face she climbs out from behind her clothes, where she was hiding to stand in front of the mirror. Looking square at her own full reflection she says “Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is the most powerful of them all?”

Her reflection in the mirror starts to blur and change. In a few moments she finds herself looking in the mirror, at a tall handsome man, with long black hair and blue eyes. He wears a black bindi between his brows and he has many piercings.  His clothing is made of black leather and lace and he looks like a gothic God. Without needing an introduction the mirror responds in a low monotone voice. “You, my Queen, are extremely powerful, but only by marriage. Your husband, the King and ruler, is the most powerful person alive.” In that moment the queen is transformed. She nods her head and decides to end all the abuse from her drunk gay husband. The image in the mirror smiles a deep broad smile and changes back to the reflection of the Grimhilda

That night she goes to visit the King in his chambers, dressed up as a boy with a dagger hiding between her breasts.

Bathroom Bizarre

Paul and I are busy……..renovating, for lack of a better word. Yes we are only renting and no we are not spending thousands of rands on a rental. We used to have an all fairy bathroom. With a shit load of fairies standing everywhere, making you almost too scared to move. In case you bump one of them off.

Another friend of ours said that he felt very self conscious having all these fairies stare at him as he takes a piss. Well you know the fairy thing was pretty and it was nice to have people come out of the bathroom and say “I love all the fairies” but it was time to move on. Time to grow up almost. So for a long time we thought about what it is that we were going to do to the bathroom. Probably a year in planning and we finally are in the process of redoing the bathroom.

Why the fuck does it take you a year to plan a bathroom? I am sure many of you are wondering that right now. Well I am more than delighted to answer your question. A lot of people, in fact the majority of people, just hang a curtain or blind and put the same old bathroom stuff in there year after year. And as they get new hand soaps or  razors or even washing cloths and towels, they just keep on adding things until nothing eventually matches.

Your bathroom is however one of, if not the most important room in your entire house. Your bathroom can tell your guests so much about what kind of a person you really are.  Remember, very importantly, in a lounge or kitchen or any other room you are there to distract your guests and they wont pick up on anything in the room that is completely fucked up. In the bathroom however, they are there alone. And its not like what they are doing is taking all of there focus. So what do they do? They look.

When I was in Primary School our Principal who was also my registration and maths teacher, told us one day, that if he wants to see  if you are a clean person or not, he goes to your bathroom. That has stuck with me since. I am so anal about the bathroom. No pun intended.

The first thing people notice about the bathroom is if it is clean or not. Dust, dirt, bunched up towels, overflowing washing basket, toothpaste stains in the sink and an awful stale pee smell, tells you that you don’t ever want to pee here again, hehehehehehehehe. Then you want your bathroom to have a look that just about defines who you are without rubbing it in people’s faces.

I mean think about it. If you sitting on the toilet what are doing? Please Goddess don’t tell me you are reading a magazine from the heap next to the toilet. That is as bad as kakkerlakke. Nee jirre sies man. Puke puke puke. Gives me the grills.  

You should be staring at the room. And if you look at the bathroom you should feel that this room clearly defines you and your family. I realize that it is not so easy cuz everyone will have different interests, especially if you have a big family. In that case have it at least the people who pay to live there have a say in room. Your bathroom is the room in which you groom yourself. It must be clean. It is the most damp room in the house and bacteria will live there in a heartbeat if you allow them. So many people stay sick so for so long and it’s like they never heal. What does their bathroom look like? You use it for your most intimate bodily functions. Of course your sick germs will be there. You should actually even use a new toothbrush after you have been ill.

The Dragon skull that used to frighten the living bejesus out of just about everyone that used the bathroom has now been replaced by an intricate embossed tile design with the word LOVE written on it in 3D. The entire thing is silver. Compare those two images. See what story it creates in your mind?

The shelves are now as minimalistic as what we can possibly make it. You don’t want anything to just stand there and gather moisture and dust. That is just a sticky sick mess.

Your bathroom says a lot about your style and your class. It says a lot about what you as a person is willing to explore and what you are just willing to accept. The effort you put into the bathroom says so much about you, but so does the bathrooms that just are. You know the ones where nothing match and everything is a mess.

Now I do not mean to insult people here or tell you that your bathroom is kak and make you spend thousands on it. But just think about it logically. Your guests go to this room, completely alone. They have as long as what it takes to snoop around. What story is your bathroom telling them?

Mwah!

Kaalgat Kakkerlak Tango

Dis laat nag in die hartjie van die somer en ek en Paul le op die bed en kyk movie op die Laptop. Dis die dae voor ons n TV gehad het. Maar dis warm, so warm dat in die nag dat daar val gaar voels uit die lug uit. Dis amper soos om KFC te bel om te kom aflewer, net baie vinnger en heeltemal verniet.

Ek le in n vest en my boxers en selfs die, laat my voel of ek in n sauna sit met n fur jas aan. Mens het lus vir niks nie. Alles is taai en sweeterig en jy bid vir die waaier om tog net vinnig weer you kant toe te draai. Ek skuif al nader aan Paul oor die waaier aan sy kant is. My koeldrank is besig om te kook in die glas. Maar hier le ons nou en movie kyk. Uit die hoek van my oog gewaar ek ietsie wat agter my by die deur in gevlap kom. Ek weet dadelike wat dit is maar is amper te bang om die naam te. So asof ek die ding rerig gaan upset maak as ek hom op sy naam noem. Stadig, baie stadig, leun ek oor na die laptop en druk die space bar om die movie te pause.

Paul kyk my aan en vra hoekom pause ek en al wat ek kan uit kry is: “Daar is iets in die kamer”

Ek draai om na die deur se kant toe en daar sien ek hom. Groot, bruin met moerse vlerke en n tracking system wat mense uit ken wat bang is vir hulle. Mense soos ek. Paul jaag badkamer toe en kom terug met n handvol 2-ply toilet papier. Ek verstaan nie, want my liggaam het nog nie, amper maar nog nie,  in beswyk gegaan nie en hy is sekerlik nie bang vir die ding nie. Nee, toe sien ek dat hy bedek Kakkerlak se kind met dit en dra die bolletjie wat nou soos Moses in die mandtjie lyk, na die badkamer. Ek raak rustig en toe hoor ek die woorde van die badkamers af: “oh shit.” Toe weet ek dat die doner sit nog hier iewers in die vokken kamer.

Op daai oomblik neem ek rekening van my sondes en ek weet dat die nag gaan of bitter lank wees of my lewe gaan nou bitter vinnig tot einde kom, maar net een van ons, ek of Kakkerlak, gaan vannaand lewendige hier uit kom. Die ander een sal die ewige met die onewige verwissel.

Dit is op daai stip oomblik wat ek myself toe nou ook in die kas bevind. Net sodat julle nie hoef te wonder nie, ons het n loop in kas. ‘n Vertrek wat uit ons slaap kamer uit loop waar ons klere gebere word. Maar hier staan ek in die deur tussen kamer en kas. Paul is nou by die kamer deur en die arme man soek die indringer. Ek besef dat Paul het nie lense in nie en die bril le op die bedkassie en vir n oomblik verloor ek al my sinne en besluit om te help soek. Pleks ek sluit myself toe in die kas. Moes die bybel gryp en begin bid het, net ingeval die  kerklike tannies reg is. Maar nee, ek besluit om te help soek.

Paul soek by die deur en ek staan nou op die bed en probeer kyk as ek nie iets sien nie. Nou mens wil mos nie vinnig dinge op lig en skuif nie want die ettertjies is vinnig en hardloop of vlieg sommer. Soos n verkleurde mannetjie is Paul doennig want my kamerjas en al my horde serpies hang teen die deur waar die moer wetter nou weg kruip. Paul besluit dat kakkerlak nie teen my kamerjas is nie, hy haal dit af en skud dit uit.

Die bloed verlaat my gesig. Ek voel hoe word ek ys koud en die kamer draai om my so asof ek n kas brandewyn gedrink het. Kakkerlak WAS in die kamer jas maar is NOU oppad na my toe en ek kannie gou genoeg wegkom van sy tracking system af nie. Net so voor ek die engel van die dood se hand op my skouer voel en sy koue asem in my nek besef ek dat kakkerlak sit op my heup en al wat tussen my en hom is, is my boxers.

Teen n spoed wat baie vinnger is as die van lug, staan ek by die agter deur en ek het nie n draad klere aan nie. Ek weet nou nog nie hoe ek in daai twee split sekondes my vest en boxers uit gekry het, verby Paul gehardloop het by die kamer uit, deur die sitkamer en kombuis om voor die agterdeur te staan. Natuurlik met my kom my eie gegil agterna, maar dit klink soos n dogtertjie van 6 wat pas uitgevind het dat Fader kersfees n pot kak is.

Net so voor ek die deur oop sluit besef ek dat as ek nou buiten toe gaan kan al die bure my sien en daai vokker se tentacle gesin sit en wag seker vir my buite. Ek het eers tot my bewussyn gekom toe ek myself kry waar ek op die bad se rand sit met ‘n toe deur, my eie gil steeds hoog in die huis en ek sit en hyg asof ek die pas 80 kilometer in 2 minute gehardloop het. Arme Paul weet nie of hy moet kakkerlak vang of kyk of ek ok is nie.

Ek het Stadig uit die badkamer gekom. Weereens besef ek is so naak soos die dag wat ek uit gesny was en nou staan ek in die sitkamer. Al wat ek kan uit kry is: “Ek slaap nie n moer vannaand met daai ding los in die huis nie.” Daai nag het ook weer besef hoe n wonderlike man ek het, want hy het nie eers een keer gekla toe ek hom maak al die meubels, insluitend die bed, uit die slaapkamer dra om ons kakkerlak vriend te find en hom na Paulus en die goue poorte te stuur.

Mwah!!

Knysna's Bistro

So while in Knysna and after I could no longer almost feel my feet from all the walking, we saw yet another bookshop. One that we had been to before and from the previous experience I also knew that they wouldn’t really have anything that I would like. But it was like fate sent us there. The woman that owns it then tells us that we have to go next door, which was a bistro. She said even if we didn’t order anything, we simply have to go in there and see what Paul, not my Paul, the owner, did with the place.

Reluctantly and at a very slow pace we mover towards the bistro.

WOW!!!!

Walking in there was like walking into an entirely new era and country all added with lots of camp, as in homo over the top. You know the style I like. Hehehehehehe. We spoke with the owner, well one of them, who is willing to thinking about expanding to Cape Town. This place would so work here. Downstairs is a small bar area, and alcoves in which to sit. And a carpeted staircase that you will never be able to get up and down if you are fucked drunk. At the top is more seating areas plus a food and bar station and the bathroom. On the one side they are busy building a little theatre area for cabaret acts and the like.

We got to talking with the lady and told her about Paul being a belly dancer. The people are Pagan friendly and we spoke for ages about what all we could do with a space like that and how we could fill it up with people, night after night. Now I do not know what the outcoma of all of this is going to be but if you are ever in Knysna, you have to go there. The people are great. The incense greats you at the door and walks with you throughout the entire place. Beautiful yet bizarre art adorns all of the walls and when you ask them “Why?” about a certain piece, the answer is simply: “Why Not?”

Saree’s are draped and folded to transform a normal room into a Arabian Burlesque area that makes you want to stay forever. I can go on and on about this place but the fact of the matter is that words and photos cant really describe it. You have to go there for yourself and step into world of magick!

Mwah!!

Living the Dream of a 6 Year Old Boy!!

When I was a little boy I was always wanting to teach. I would pack out my toys and teach them. Or if for some reason I couldn’t teach them (for who knows what reason, maybe they pissed me off and I sent them to the Head Master) I would teach the animals in the house. I didn’t teach them anything specific. I was young man, even before I went to school. In the photo where I am wearing the blue jersey with the sailboat on it (which by the way is a 8 out of 10) I remember still that the Cartoon series of Ghost Busters was on T.V and I would teach the dog (who is with me in the photo, I think his name was Max) all about busting ghosts. I was of course the expert in the field, hehehehehe.

In 1990 I was in Sub B, now in my day this is what we called Grade 2.  You had Sub A which was Grade 1, Sub B which was Grade 2 and from there on it was called Standard 1 to 10 or Matric. But by the time I reached Matric, due to the hype of the movies, it was now called Matrix. Quite disconcerting if you know what that is. But who was I to argue.

I remember when I was in grade 2, I was sitting in the hall one winters morning, while it was raining and one of my class mates had an animal book with him. We paged through it and he stopped at the picture of the horse and explained to me that he was confused. He said that he knew it was a picture of a horse but that the word underneath it had an –r- in it and according to him the word horse doesn’t have an –r- in it. Now I learned to read and write on the farm in the Free State, long before I could go to school, by one of my cousins, from my Mom’s third husband. 

I am the one with the red circle around his head.

I cannot remember the boys name but I know it is the one in the brown uniform. He was wearing a brown uniform because he had just arrived from a new school and didn’t have our uniform yet. By the way, by this time we are no longer living in the Free State, but n lovely Cape Town.

So I decide to take it upon myself to try and explain to him that the word underneath the picture of the horse is in fact the correct word. But in pronouncing the word, the –r- is silent. Well I tell you he created such a stink about it and about me being wrong that I think my exact words to him were something like: “Well then stay stupid”.

The bell rang and into class we went. Those were the days when they still prayed in the morning. So the teacher prays, everyone settles down and he asks the teacher, Mrs DeKlerk, with her extremely blue eye shadow, about this word underneath the picture of the horse. She explains the silent –r- business to him and at that moment in time I decided that I wanted to be a teacher. Fuck knows what I want to teach but I wanted to teach. You know, one day when I grow up.

Years passed and about two or three years ago a bunch of friends are sitting in a restaurant talking about what we do for a living. It was almost like a scene from ‘The Devil Wears Prada’ but with smokes, more laughter and more wine which explains the more laughter. We all spoke about what it is that we are currently doing, I am a Personal Assistant and the spoke about what, as kids, we wanted to be one day. And without thinking I said: “Oh That’s easy, I wanted to be a teacher.” My friend Naomi, who has known me since we were 6, said to me that, that is awesome cuz I am doing it. Lots of wine and being in a mindset of talking about a 9 to 5 job I had to think and then it hit me. Right between the eyes.

1998, The year I started teaching at the Family Altar

I was living the dream that I set out for myself when I was just a little boy of 6 years old. Yes I have a 9 to 5 job, which by the way I do love. No I am not just saying that cuz my boss also reads my blog, I actually do have an amazing job, work with awesome people and I enjoy going to work. But after hours, I am living my dream. I teach students and whats best is that I am teaching them something that I am extremely passionate about. I am not saying I am a good teacher, as a matter of fact sometimes, most of the time, I think I suck, but I love it. I love doing it. I love walking into my class and seeing people there of all ages and work with them and see how they grow and develop. It fills me with so much joy to look at them a year later and know that I played a very small part in helping that person. It is truly my passion. That is why I am sad to finish with the current postulants but on the 7^th of August a new group will start and then I get to try and help them as well.

That 6 year old kid back in 1990, knew what he was talking about when he decided to be a teacher. 8 years later in April of 1998 I gave my first class. I was still very much a kid, but that is where the dream started.

Mwah!!