23 February 2021

RAPUNZELish by H L Truslove

RAPUNZEL(ish)

SET OF GENRES 1 – outlaw western, dystopia, romantic drama, apocalyptic

I knew the moment she stepped off the stagecoach that she’d be trouble.

The witch, she called herself; her hair all tangled like one of them there tumbleweeds that always seem to roll through town whenever there’s about to be a gunfight.

A laser pistol went off above our heads and we all stopped what we were doing in the bar. Even the scrap recyclers looked up from their gadgets and gizmos to take a peek at the woman who’d announced herself with a bullet. My wife clung to my chiselled, rippling chest in fear. I also wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“Let’s make this clear: this is my town now,” she warned before blowing the thin trail of ionizing smoke from the tip of her gamma gun.

Nobody responded, instead the creak of the saloon doors punctuating the silence. She traipsed over to the bar, ordered a double whiskey, and didn’t look anyone in the eye.

My wife trembled in my arms, her buxom breasts shaking in her bodice like barely contained titty jelly.

“Oh darlin’, this can’t be good news,” she whispered. I held her closer as my hair whipped sexily about my face from a sudden breeze.

“It’s alright sweetheart,” I reassured her, “she can’t be any worse than… THE APOCALYPSE.”

SET OF GENRES 2 – historical period drama, ghost, road comedy, heroic bloodshed

“It’s very rude to speak when a lady can hear you,” said the witch, turning to us. My wife his her conventionally attractive heart-shaped face behind a fan. She opened her mouth to say more when the witch pulled out her duelling revolver and shot my dear wife dead. Holding our infant daughter in my arms I rushed to her side and held her hand, as cold and pale as a China vase, streaked in bright crimson from her wound.

“Never forget me,” she whispered as her dead lolled back into the pool of blood (heroic blood) that surrounded her. Her body shifted for a moment before a beautiful ghost rose from it – ethereal and sexy but still definitely weird, you know like Tom Hiddleston in Crimson Peak.

“Wow,” I said, “this isn’t good. Who will help me raise my child now?”

“I think it’s time for you to go on a trip where you learn about your ability to manage as a single father," announced the witch.

“Probably,” I agreed, so the witch, my wife’s ghost, my baby daughter and I all climbed into the witch’s 2008 Honda Civic. We argued over who should drive but eventually settled on the idea it would be a good life lesson for my baby daughter. She took the wheel and immediately backed us into a carriage, horribly mangling two horses and a coachman, because as it turns out babies are crap at driving.

SET OF GENRES 3 – Dictionary, journalism, surrealist, speech

Baby (noun)

A very young child.

If a baby has rear-ended your horse drawn carriage, you may be entitled to compensation.

A man was arrested today after letting his child drive a car. A man was injured and a woman was found dead at the scene, but preliminary reports are saying her ghost was found in the front seat of the car, picking which CD to put on for the journey to have a driving montage to. The trial will take place this Thursday at Grimm county court. The infant in question is being left with the other woman in the car who claims to be her aunt. (Well, I had to get this back around to Rapunzel somehow, didn’t I?)

At his hearing, the father said this:

“I will fight this in the courts, I will fight this on the seas and oceans, I will fight with growing confidence and strengths during my CPS visits, I shall defend my – ”

He was stopped as the courthouse began to rise into the air and turned into a small pink marshmallow. The trial will recommence next week. For a time, consult the melting clock on your wall.

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RAPUNZELish by H L Truslove