Here is part 3 of the Looking Glass Saga.
Part one: Looking Glass Upon the Wall, Who’s the Craziest of Us All?
Part two: Looking Glass Part 2
Enjoy! I think there’s one more after this one.
Gretel: (takes a deep breath and then her words come out softly and slowly) There was a time when a terrible famine filled the land and a selfish mother drug her two children out to the woods to starve where they almost died because a witch tried to eat them but they escaped and their mother died instead because she didn’t have anything to eat but the evil witch had lived in a house made out of candy so the children had all the food they wanted after they baked the witch in her own oven. (stands up and yells) So ha Mother! We survived and you didn’t! (sits back down quietly) I’m done.
Emperor: I think I’ll leave now (starts to get up). I really could do with a quick bite to eat.
Gretel: (yelling again) I told my story, so you can tell yours! (once again sits down quietly)
Emperor: Okay then. Well, here goes. In a land very far from here, there was an Emperor who was unfortunately vain. He was also far too trusting. You know what? I shouldn’t be telling any of this to you because how do I know you won’t tell my subjects? How do I know you aren’t planning to assassinate my pride again? I mean I managed to hush it up the first time, but you could have a riot on my hands. Every one of you could be a spy just waiting to tell my subjects all about me. Or maybe you still think I’m gullible to fall for the “magical cloth” gig. You’ll tell me “only the worthy people can see it” and then you’ll run off with my gold and watch me parade around stark naked in front of all of my subjects. I most certainly will not. I know now that hoaxes like that are everywhere and everyone is waiting to pounce. If I feel like going on a cruise, I’ll darn well pay for it myself; I don’t need your fancy deals. No, thank you, I will most certainly not talk about my past.
Mirror: Mr. Emperor, with all due respect, this is a therapy group. Everyone is here to relieve their own problems, not to care about anyone else’s. And seeing as the group dynamic here seems to be extremely self-centered, it is highly likely that no one else here even cares about you.
Emperor: But how do I know that? You’re a blabby little mirror, you could tell anyone anything. Aren’t you the one who told the queen that the pretty little princess was still alive? I don’t trust you. Or any of the rest of you for that matter. (Stands up) Good bye. (exits stage left)
Thumbelina: Good. Now it’s my turn. I’ll say what I want to, and you can’t make me shut up, so there’s no use in trying. Just because I’m little doesn’t mean you can push me around. I mean, I am already happily married, thank you very much. I mean, like, I married a little fairy man, so I don’t need to marry no rich moles or ugly little frog spawn, because I do what I want. See this tattoo? I got that one after I escaped from the frog that thought I’d be a good match for her baby. It has a picture of an ugly frog and it says “Frogs are so gross.” I stick my tongue out at it every morning because that way I don’t have to come in contact with Mrs. Uglyfrog again but I can still show her who’s boss. I mean, I’m not afraid of her or anyone else, but she could’ve eaten me whole. Oh, and see this one? Yeah I got that after I got away from the nasty blind little mole who was absolutely nothing like me. He forced me to live in these stupid little claustrophobic tunnels and pretend I liked him. And he was blind, like, gro-oss.
Stepsister #1: Hey! You got a problem with blind people, you little punk?
Thumbelina: Actually, yeah, I do. I don’t wear dark eyeliner so that I can live in a tunnel. I wear it because it helps me stand out in the light. But you ain’t blind, are ya? Anyway, my tattoo from the mole says “can’t buy me love” and it has a picture of a tuxedo because little blind mole always wore velvet suits that sooooo cramped my style. Then, there was this bird that fell in love with me and I told it to scram so that I could marry my fairy husband and I did. So there. You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do.
Red’s Mom: You should respect your elders, deary.
Thumbelina: I don’t think I will, sorry.
Red’s Mom: If I was your mother… That is beside the point. It is my turn to tell my story. Once, a mother had a little girl who she loved very much. The girl grew into a young woman, and her grandmother sewed for her a beautiful red riding cloak. The girl loved it so much that she never wore anything else. (she begins to cry) My little baby girl never took off the cloak. She never washed it because she didn’t want it to get wet and shrink. She was so filthy that she caught the Plague and died! She literally wore it into the belly of a wolf and survived, so why did my brave little girl have to die of plague? Why? (She compulsively spreads hand sanitizer on her hands and composes herself) I’m sorry. I am finished.