The Prince Frog

This is another one from ‘Fractured Fairy Tales.’ They ran it under the title “The Frog Prince,” but I think my title is more fitting. I think the reason this story has stayed with me for so many years is that under the jokes and the funny voices (courtesy of Daws Butler, who also voiced Yogi Bear and Huckleberry Hound) there is a genuine love story here. Falling in love means you’re willing to do anything to be with someone. Being in love means you’re willing to do anything for someone. As you’ll see:

There was once upon a time a country that was entirely overrun with witches. They were everywhere, you couldn’t move for witches back then. It finally got so bad that there were more witches than there were people to bewitch. It was perfectly common to see two witches literally fighting over a peasant saying:

“Let go! I want to put him to sleep for a thousand years!”

“No, you let go! I want to turn him into a chair!”

“Well I want…a chair? That’s a weird thing to turn somebody into.”

“I’m running out of ideas! So sue me!”

One day a little witch was walking through the woods, desperate to cast a spell on someone when she came upon a little pond where she saw a frog sitting on a lily pad.

“Good morning!” said the frog, with the customary friendliness for which frogs are known.

“Not so good for you, dearie,” said the witch. “Because I’m going to cast a spell on you.”

But the frog just laughed. “I’m already a frog! What are you gonna do? Turn me into a handsome prince?”

“Say! That’s an idea!” With that the witch waved her wand and the frog became a handsome young prince…a human prince, in case that wasn’t clear…not that frogs have monarchies so…never mind.

“What?” cried the frog…I mean prince. “No! I don’t want to be a prince! Change me back into a frog!”

“Never! You are doomed to be a handsome prince forever!” And with a wicked cackle, she was gone.

The poor frog…that is the poor prince…well, he was really a frog but…looked, let’s just call him Filbert, okay? So, poor Filbert was very depressed and even though he tried to adjust to being a prince, he found his life just wasn’t the same. He couldn’t croak, he couldn’t catch flies, he couldn’t sit on lily pads (he almost drowned three times before he gave that up). In the end he realized he was just going to have to find a witch to turn him back into a frog and he set forth.

But he didn’t meet any witches on his travels (which was sort of surprising, come to think of it). Instead he met a beautiful princess who, despite his insistence that he was a frog, fell in love with Filbert. Feeling it would be impolite to refuse a princess, Filbert agreed to marry Princess Sylvia and they moved into a beautiful home together. Knowing that her eccentric husband was fond of nature, the princess had a beautiful back garden added to the house and Prince Filbert would walk through it for hours every day, dreaming of the days when he was a frog.

One day while he was out walking, a witch passed by. Imagine her surprise at seeing a genuine, honest-to-goodness prince! And not even under a spell! So, without any further ado, she announced that she was going to turn the prince into…a chair!

“No, a frog!”

“Good idea! A frog’s much better!” And Filbert was a frog once again.

Princess Sylvia tried to understand, but it wasn’t easy being married to a prince in the morning and a frog in the evening. Nevertheless she had come to love her husband very much and so she had a big, beautiful pond added to the garden where she could go visit her frog-prince-husband-guy whenever she wanted.

Well, as fate would have it, that same witch who started this whole silly business came by one day and recognized Filbert from the first spell. That’s funny, she thought. Normally my spells last longer than that. Oh well, we’ll just have to try something else. And with a wave of her wand, Filbert became…a chicken?

“Okay! That does it!” said Filbert and he marched…or whatever chickens do that’s most like marching…straight into the forest where he found the SHCOW meeting place: That’s Secret High Council of Witches. They were the group that sort of oversaw all witchcraft in the area. Sort of a Witches’ Union, you might say. Filbert went straight to the Head Witch, Griselda, and said, “Now look: First I was a frog, and I was happy. Then I was a prince, then I was almost a chair, then I was a frog again, and now I’m a chicken! I’m getting tired of this. Tell your witches to leave me alone!”

“Sorry, sir,” said Griselda. “We normally make it a point not to persecute any one person like this, but times are hard for us witches. Anyway, I’ll put you on the official ‘no-curse’ list, if you like and I’ll even change you back to your preferred form right now. So, what’ll it be?”

Of course, Filbert’s first thought was that he wanted to be a frog again. But then he thought about Sylvia. How she had humored him in his belief that he was a frog, how she had been so patient with his long walks in the garden, how she had let him live in the pond because she thought it would make him happy. She had done so much to make him happy; now, it was his turn. He knew what he had to do:

“I wanna be a prince!”

“Sure thing,” said Griselda and with a wave of her wand, the chicken was gone, and in its place was…a big, shaggy sheepdog? “Here, Prince. Good boy, Prince.”

“Not this kind of prince!”

“Oh, sorry.” So, Griselda waved her magic wand again and this time Filbert was a cat. Then a parakeet. Then a garden snail. Then a buffalo. Then a chair. And, finally, the frog he was at the start of all this nonsense. “Sorry, sir,” said the exhausted witch. “All that bewitching has rewritten your internal biology. It’s hard to explain, but I’ll never be able to make you a prince again.”

Filbert was confused and very unhappy as he thanked Griselda for trying and hopped on home. He didn’t know what he was going to say to his wife. But when he got back home, he found the house was empty. Sylvia was nowhere to be seen. Then he thought perhaps she was looking for him back in the pond so he hopped to the garden and when he reached the pond…there, sitting on his favorite lily pad, was the most beautiful girl-frog Filbert had ever seen. And, somehow, though he didn’t know how, he knew exactly who she was.

“Sylvia?”

Yes, it was! It turns out that while Filbert had been thinking of becoming a prince to make her happy, she had decided that the only way she could be happy was to be with Filbert. And if Filbert needed to be a frog to be happy, then a frog is just what she’d be, too. She marched straight out into the woods and ordered the first witch she met to turn her into a frog. The confused witch obliged and Sylvia hopped back to the pond to wait for Filbert.

No one ever knew what happened to the prince and princess. Their house soon feel into disrepair and another couple moved in and rebuilt it about two years later. By now the witch crisis was over and they felt it was once again safe to bring up children in the neighborhood and, before long, two beautiful little kids joined the family. And every day after their lessons, they would come straight home and run right out to the back where there was a little lilly pond which was very cozy and inviting and, in residence, two friendly frogs and a whole lot of little pollywogs living very happily ever after.

THE END

NEXT WEEK: Something short, I promise!

Rapunzel

Next Wednesday, Disny’s newest animated fairy tale opens in theatres nationwide. Though it is called Tangled, it is based on this classic tale from the Brothers Grimm, though it has been given a decidely different slant. I just thought that I should bring out my version first, knowing full well that it will suffer by comparison.

No theme seems more prevalent in these tales than the suffering of beautiful women at the hands of jealous, ugly witches. This particular story, however, has an interesting twist, which was explored most expertly by James Lapine and songwriter Stephen Sondheim in their Tony-winning musical Into the Woods. Here the witch keeps Rapunzel not as a trophy, but as a daughter. She truly loves Rapunzel (or as close as she can come to love) and wishes to shield her from the outside world. But her love is selfish, and leads to her eventual destruction, as does all love which is anything less than pure and selfless.

And if you don’t believe that kind of love can exist, you are most definitely reading the wrong blog…heck, you’re probably reading the wrong author.

  

M

any, many years ago, back when you weren’t even born, a baker and his wife lived in a little house near the woods. They were not wealthy, but had everything they really needed. Indeed, the Baker’s Wife was expecting a child.

The funny thing about women when they’re in a family way, is that they tend to get unusual cravings. Some mothers-to-be like odd flavors of ice cream or bizarre food combinations like watermelon and chop suey (ew!). But the Baker’s Wife had a different sort of appetite. See, her bedroom window overlooked the most beautiful vegetable garden in the world. She told her husband that she absolutely needed a salad made from that lettuce.

The funny thing about men whose wives are in a family way, is that they tend to do all manner of stupid things to make their brides happy. Ordinarily, of course, the Baker would not dare fetch any vegetables from that garden, because that garden was kept by a wicked old witch with terrible dark powers. But, the flora of the Witch cast a strange spell on the wife, and she refused all food except the Witch’s Lettuce, so the Baker agreed.

That night, when the Witch was sure to be asleep, he climbed over the garden wall and started picking as many heads of lettuce as he could carry. And just when he had all he could carry and was on his way back over the wall he heard a voice from behind him cry out:

“Stop, thief!”

A bolt of power struck him and he fell from the wall. He looked up and saw the Witch standing over him! A horrible, ugly witch with a hump and a clawlike hand which clutched her magic staff.

“How dare you defile my garden!” cried the Witch. “I should turn you into…into…well, something pretty bad, I can tell you!”

“Please, Madame Witch,” pleaded the Baker. “Have mercy!” He had to say this a few times because the witch wasn’t really listening. She was trying to decide what to change him into.

“Mercy?” she said when she finally snapped out of it. “Why should I be merciful to a petty thief?”

“I’m not a thief, honestly. I only wanted your vegetables for my wife. She is with child and has an uncontrollable desire for greens! And, as everyone knows yours are the finest vegetables in all the kingdom…” This was a pretty lame attempt at sucking up and the witch knew it, but she did stay her hand.

The truth is that witches are not necessarily vindictive and merciless. And this one appreciated the Baker’s predicament. If his wife said she wanted the witch’s lettuce, what could a devoted husband do? And, after all, she had plenty of vegetables to spare…but, darn it, that lettuce was her favorite! And she couldn’t let him get away with it!

“All right,” she said when she had reached her decision. “You may take as much as you wish. But listen well! If you want something from me, I demand something from you!”

“But what could a humble Baker own that is of any value to a witch? We have nothing of any great worth!”

“Don’t you? Did you or did you not, just tell me that your wife was going to have a baby?”

In a fit of desperation, the deal was made. And soon thereafter, the Baker’s Wife gave birth to a beautiful daughter. They begged and pleaded, but the Witch would have none of it. A bargain had been made and the Witch intended the Baker to honor it. However, before she left with the child, she made the Baker and his Wife a promise: That she would protect the child from the evils of the world. And with that, the witch vanished into the night with her stolen daughter.

Seventeen years went by, and the little girl (whom the Witch had named “Rapunzel,” being another word for lettuce) had grown into a great beauty. Fair of skin, fair of voice, fair of manner, fair of eyes…and her hair…well, that was the most remarkable thing of all. She had never had it cut, so it grew down to her feet and well past. She had to be careful when she moved, for fear it would snag on something…

Not that she had that much room in which to move. For, you see, the Witch had been as good as her word to the Baker and his Wife, if not better. She had taken tremendous steps to protect Rapunzel from the outside world. She had even built a large tower in the middle of the forest and shut Rapnuzel inside. She was high above the ground and the tower had no doors, or stairs, and only one small window at the very top. The only way the Witch could get in or out was to climb Rapunzel’s hair like a rope! When she wanted to visit, she stood at the base of the tower and sang out:

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair

That I may climb the golden stair!

Every time she heard this, Rapunzel was to lower her hair for the Witch to climb up. Once inside, the Witch would bring food or drink, give Rapunzel lessons or simply talk pleasantly of this and that.

Poor Rapunzel. She longed to see the world with her own eyes. Meet people, have adventures…get a bloody haircut! But the Witch said no. There are dangerous things out in the world, and she would not let Rapunzel get herself into trouble. It looked as if no one would be able to free Rapunzel from her unfortunate predicament…

Nobody, that is, until one day, when Prince Roger was traveling through the forest with his right hand man, Count Basie (an unfortunate coincidence). Roger was an adventurer, and always eager to try new things. He saw the world as a challenge to be faced and fought. Count Basie, for his part, wished that his master would go a little easy sometimes, or at least stop forcing the Poor Count to go with him.

Today they were getting lost. Prince Roger would often get deliberately and hopelessly lost, just to see how fast he could find his way again. In this case, however, he was getting loster than he’d ever lost before. Deeper and deeper into the heart of the forest until, if he took one more step, he’d officially be moving out of the forest.

That sentence makes sense, just think about it for a minute.

“Congratulations,” said Count Basie, sarcastically. “You’ve gotten yourself hopelessly lost in uncharted forest to die miserabley of starvation and/or cold. What are you going to do next?”

“First I’m going to fire my sarcastic companion,” said the Prince. “Don’t worry, Count Basie, this is easy. We’ll be out of here in no time. Just listen for birdsong and that will tell us roughly where we are.”

The men listened, and they did hear a song. But it was not a bird’s song. No bird could sing this beautifully. Birds got into fights over who sounded more like this voice. It was a woman’s voice. The most beautiful voice Prince Roger had ever heard. Without waiting for the Count, he pulled his horse’s reins and sped through the woods after the voice.

It was then that he saw Rapunzel’s Tower. He saw the Witch approaching it and calling out:

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair

That I may climb the golden stair!

And within moments, a beuatiful rope of flaxon hair was lowered and the Witch climbed it and dissapeared within. But this was all Prince Roger needed to hear to know exactly what was happening. The girl, apparently called “Rapunzel” was being held prisoner in this tower by that horrible Witch. He could barely see her through her tiny window as she pulled up her hair, but what he saw was lovely and graceful. And she sang beautifully. This, he reasoned, was enough to rescue her by.

“We should return to the palace,” said Count Basie.

“Yes,” said Roger, not daring to take his eyes away fro Rapunzel. “But tomorrow I will return to this spot, and rescue Rapunzel before that horrible Witch returns.” He said this with great determination, then proceeded to navigate his way out of the woods in less than five minutes.

The next day, Rapunzel was reading a book when she heard a familiar phrase:

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair

That I may climb the golden stair!

Obediently, Rapunzel lowered her hair in the usual way. She started wrapping it around the bedpost about a foot and a half from her scalp and lowered the rest out the window so that the tugging wouldn’t hurt her (you’d be surprised how long it took her to figure that one out). She was shocked, however, when her visitor turned out to be not the Witch, but rather a handsome young man in expensive-looking clothes. Indeed, he looked every bit like a prince from a picture book…which, I guess, he is, in a sense.

“Who are you?” she said.

“My name is Prince Roger,” said the young man, bowing elegantly. “I assure you, I mean you no harm.”

“Why have you come here? How did you find me?”

The Prince explained briefly the events of the previous day and how he simply had to meet the woman who sang so beautifully. He asked Rapunzel how she came to be locked up in this tower, but when he described her captor as a terrible, evil witch, he was surprised when Rapunzel seemed offended.

“Don’t talk about my mother that way!”

“Your…your mother?” said the Prince, incredulously. So, Rapunzel told Roger the whole story. How the only family she ever knew was the Witch, and how in her attempts to take care of her, the old hag had locked her away from the world.

“I know she loves me,” said Rapunzel. “But I wish to see the world with my own eyes.”

“Let me help you,” said Prince Roger. “Let me take you away from all this. I can show you the world.”

“That would be wonderful,” said Rapunzel. “But there are a few problems.”

“Like what?”

“First of all, I barely know you! You cannot expect me to run off with some stranger.”

“A prince?”

“Still!”

“You are right. I will return tomorrow at this same time. And every day until you love me as much as I feel I love you.” With that he bowed again and descended Rapnuzel’s hair.

And, for the next month, every single day at the exact same time, the Prince returned to Rapunzel’s side. They talked on every subject, they played simple games, they fell deeper and deeper in love. Until at last the day came when Rapunzel lowered her eyes and said to her Prince:

“I love you. And I wish for you to take me away from this place.”

“I will. Tomorrow, when I come to see you, I will bring with me a rope ladder. I will climb your hair and we will tie it to the window. Then we will climb down together and take you far away from this terrible tower.” With a kiss, Prince Roger was gone, elated by his newfound love.

The next day, at the usual time, the Witch returned to the tower and called out:

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair

That I may climb the golden stair!

Rapunzel did as she was asked. Moments later, the Witch was in the tower, teaching Rapunzel to play the lute, for some reason. She was having a hard time paying attention, because, sure enough, her mind kept floating back to the handsome prince and his promise of freedom. But, glad though she was to be running away with him, she felt terrible betraying her mother after all these years. She knew she couldn’t just leave without talking to her.

“Mother,” said Rapunzel when she had summoned up all her courage. “You love me, don’t you?”

“My child, of course I love you.”

“Then why do you keep me locked up in this tower?”

“Rapunzel, my precious, it is precisely because I love you that I keep you in this tower. Have you any idea what the outside world is like? There are dangerous, treacherous things out there. Things that a child like yourself must be protected from.”

“I do not feel like a child anymore. I wish to see the world.”

“You may see what you want through your window. You may see the cruelty of men, the savagery of nature, the unfairness of life.”

“Yes, but I want to see them for myself. I want to see the good and the bad of life. I want my own experiences. I want freedom.”

“Enough!” yelled the Witch. “You are mine! I will do with you as I wish. And I do not wish for you to see the world.”

“That is not for you to decide. I have made that decision for myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have had another visitor. A prince. He loves me, Mother. And I him. This evening he will come for me and set me free. Then I will never see you again as long as I live!”

“This is how you repay me? I have cared for you as my own all your life, and you dare speak to me in this way? I will teach you a lesson you will never forget!” And with that, the Witch took out a large, sharp knife and cut all of Rapunzel’s hair off. Then, using her magic, she took Rapunzel away from the tower and dragged her to a tiny cottage far, far from anywhere and locked her inside. Here Rapunzel wept, knowing that she might never see her beloved Prince again.

Meanwhile, the Prince was on his way back to the tower with the ladder he had promised to bring. Count Basie was along, too because, in those days, when a couple was eloping, the groom chose his best friend to help them make their getaway. He always chose his best, most reliable friend and this led to our modern tradition of having a “best man” at a wedding.

No, really. Look it up.

When he got to the tower, he stood at the base and sang out:

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair

That I may climb the golden stair!

In a moment, the long hair was lowered and the Prince climbed up. But when he got inside he saw not Rapunzel, but the Witch! She had taken all the hair that she had cut off and tied it to the bedpost to fool the Prince. Then, with a wave of her magic staff, the Witch pushed the Prince out of the window where he fell on some thorny bushes, piercing his eyes and blinding him.

Count Basie took his friend back to the palace where the king’s physicians were unable to do a thing to help him. He would be blind for life. When the doctors had left, Prince Roger called his friend close to him.

“Basie, you are more than just a servant, more than a companion. You are my brother. And I need your help now more than ever.”

“Yes, your high—Yes, Roger?”

“Find her.”

“What?”

“Find her. The witch has hidden her from me, but you must find her.”

“How do you know she did not simply destroy your beloved when she found out about you?”

“Because she loves Rapunzel. She could no more hurt her than I could. You must help me find her again.”

The Count could not refuse and acting on Prince Roger’s orders, he assembled all the king’s guards, all the best hunters and warriors, and anybody else who answered his classified ad. “Somewhere in the wide world,” he said to the assembled throng, “there is a beautiful young girl of about eighteen. Her hair is the color of the first rays of dawn. Her voice is the voice of the angels. Her name is ‘Rapunzel.’ And, provided we can track her down, she will be our prince’s bride.”

The search was on. Good men and true formed search parties that covered the countryside like a vast shadow. And, to their credit they found quite a lot. They found a funny little man who claimed to be able to spin straw into gold, a house made out of gingerbread and candy, a frog who swore blind that he used to be a prince, several talking animals, a very small girl whose best friend was a bird, and a bear of very little brain who…no, sorry, that’s another book.

The point is, they found no sign of Rapunzel. Until one fateful day many, many months later, when Count Basie, almost despairing of ever finishing his mission, tripped over something in the underbrush. At first he thought it was a vine, but it was too stringy and thing and…and…blonde!

It was hair! He followed it like a set of footprints and it led him to a small clearing with an even smaller cottage right in the center. A stream running next to the cottage seemed to stop at the end of the clearing, which was enough to convince Count Basie that it was magic. That’s why they hadn’t been able to find her before now. The witch created this magic glade so that it could not be found. But Rapunzel’s hair must’ve outgrown the spell, for it led the Count right to her door.

To knock on her door, explain the situation and help her up on his horse was, with Basie, the work of a moment…the next part, however, took much longer, when they realied her hair was waaay too long for a horseback ride through the woods and they gave her an impromptu haircut with the Count’s sword. Once that was sorted, they raced back to the palace as fast as they could and Rapunzel was let in to see the prince.

“Rapunzel?” he said. “Is that you?”

“Oh, my beloved!” cried Rapunzel upon seeing his sightless eyes. “What has that horrible witch done to you?”

“It’s all right, Rapunzel. I don’t need my eyes to know how beautiful you are, or to hear your heavenly voice…or to love you.”

This was too much for Rapunzel and she wept. The Prince held her in his arms and dried her tears with his hand. At that moment, his eyes began to itch and he rubbed them with the same hand. And the minute her tears touched his eyes, his sight was restored!

Rapunzel and the prince were married the very next day, and (except for the days when Rapunzel couldn’t do a thing with her hair) they lived very happily ever after.

THE END

If You Liked My Story, You Might Enjoy:

• “Faerie Tale Theatre” (TV) Series host Shelley Duvall is Rapunzel and Jeff Bridges is her prince.
• Tangled (2010) Go see it during your Thanksgiving break. Mandy Moore is the girl in the tower with magic hair and Zachary Levi (TV’s “Chuck”) is the dashing thief who becomes her unlikely hero.

Next week: A Thanksgiving Special

Puss In Boots

This is a story about seeing worth in unexpected places. It is NOT a story about lying and cheating and getting away with it. It’s also one of my favorites, and it remains largely unchanged throughout history. The cat is usually depicted as sly and crafty. I prefer to think of mine as a hustler, a would-be con artist with a heart of gold. Not unlike Top Cat in my opinion. A few Italian stories predate the famous version by Charles Perrault, but his is the version we know today and that I have adapted. I have even reworked the master’s own last lines to end the story with.

O

nce upon a time there was a miller who had two sons and one daughter. When the miller died, each of his children inherited something. The eldest son inherited the mill, which he worked and made a lot of money with. The younger son inherited a horse, which he used to work and make a lot of money. The youngest child, his daughter, Jennifer, got her father’s old boots, and a cat.

Needless to say, Jennifer was pretty upset by this. Her father, though a fine man in many respects, was very narrow-minded about girls in general. He was one of these types that think girls can’t do all the things boys can do. In truth, he had never wanted a daughter in the first place, so he had always sort of overlooked Jennifer, never more so than in his will.

Jennifer figured she could make a stew with the cat and make mittens from its fur, but after that she would starve and/or freeze to death. This, however, did not sound like a good plan to the cat, but then you’d be surprised how seldom cats are consulted about this kind of thing.

“No, no, no, mistress,” said the cat, who had never been particularly liked by the miller and, as such, had never been given a name other than the rather ordinary ‘Puss.’ “Don’t kill me, please. I can make you a very wealthy woman. I’ll make you a bigger success than both of your brothers put together. Stick with me and you’ll go places, sweetheart.” Jennifer was slightly disconcerted at being called sweetheart by her cat, but had nothing to lose so she agreed to give the cat a chance to save his life. “All I need,” said Puss, “is a large sack and your father’s boots.” And when Jennifer asked him why he’d need the boots, Puss simply said, “One cannot appear before the king with no shoes on, can one?”

Well, Puss turned out to be one clever cat. He took the sack out into the forest and waited until he met a large wild turkey.

“Good morning, Turkey Baby!” said Puss.

“Good morning, Cat,” said the Turkey Baby, I mean, Turkey.

“Say, do you know where I could find a smaller, thinner turkey than yourself?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, I mean no offense, my good man, but I’ll bet you are so fat that you couldn’t even fit inside this sack.”

“Oh yeah?” said the Turkey. And just to spite Puss, walked right into the sack without a fight. Puss caught ten birds this way, none of whom seemed too upset by it. But, then again, turkeys are not renowned for their intellect…they are however great at gin rummy, a fact which very few people know…sorry, I’m off on a tangent here, aren’t I?

Returning, rather clumsily, to the story, Puss then took his sack-o-turkey to the palace. “I have a gift for the king,” he told the guards. “From my mistress, the…er…Marquis of Carabass!” This title—which Puss had made up on the spot—impressed the guards, so Puss was admitted and he got to see the king. “These wild turkeys,” he told his majesty, “are a gift from my mistress, the Marquis of Carabass!” (That’s pronounced “Care-uh-bass” and rhymes with “Salem, Mass” In case you were wondering. Also, you don’t pronounce the “s” in “Marquis” so that would sound like “Mar-KEE” Sorry, tangent).

“Mistress?” said the king, surprised. “Doesn’t ‘Marquis’ usually refer to a man?”

“Er…no?”

“Oh, okay, then,” said the easily convinced king. “Well, I’ve never heard of this Marquis of yours, but her name is most impressive. And she must be a wonderful woman to give such a fine gift. Tell your mistress that I thank her for her generosity and look forward to meeting her in person one day. Oh and here,” he added, handing a bag of gold coins to Puss. “For your trouble, young…cat.”

On his way out of the palace, Puss spoke to one of the guards. “I am told that other kings,” he said, “will take carriage-rides through their lands. Does our beloved monarch do this?”

“Oh, yes,” said the guard. “Every Saturday. He leaves the palace at nine in the morning and gets into one of his three traveling coaches, designed for just such outings. He takes the main road, passes through the woods, around the lake and circles back to the palace. After which he usually enjoys a boiled egg with a bit of salt and—”         

“Yes! Thank you, very informative,” said Puss and he went on his way, wondering why a guard had so much information at his disposal.

On his way out of the palace, he happened to pass the king’s son, Prince George. Of course, the cat had never seen the prince in person, but you know how some people look like exactly what they are? Well, George had one of those faces that just said to the world “I am a prince.” Just then, a thought popped into Puss’s agile mind and he turned to address the prince.

“My liege!” he said, bowing low. “Have I the honor of addressing the king’s only son, good Prince George?”

“Er, yeah, I guess,” said George. “You can stop bowing now if you want.”

“Your majesty is most gracious. I will not delay you further, for I must return to my mistress, the Marquis of Carabass.”

“The Marquis of Carabass? Sounds important.”

“Oh, very important, my good princey,” said Puss. “She is a wealthy landowner of the highest esteem. She has acres of rich, fertile land, a magnificent castle, two hundred head of cattle and a really big fountain!” (Rich people always have fountains, it’s like a rule) “And,” said the cat, now that he knew he had the prince’s interest, “she is a famed beauty to boot.”

“A famed booty to beaut?”

“No, no. The other way around. She’s a—never mind, she’s pretty, okay?”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. Quite the loveliest girl you will ever have the good fortune of laying your royal eyes upon. And young, making her accomplishments all the more impressive if you ask me.”

“Yes, that is impressive. Well, I’ll let you return, fair…cat. Give your mistress my regards and tell her that she is welcome in the palace any time.” Puss thanked his majesty and ran on home with his newly adapted plan bubbling over in his brain. As for George, he was mildly impressed with the Marquis of Carabass’s résumé, but the truth is, being a prince, he saw dozens of wealthy, beautiful young women every week. Each one wanting to marry him and become a princess. Beauty didn’t really impress him the way you might think it would. All he wanted was to meet a nice girl who he could have a conversation with. Cuz, let’s face it, your average beautiful damsel doesn’t have much going for her above the neck, if you follow me…you don’t? Oh, well never mind. Let’s get back to the story:

Jennifer was delighted by the bag of gold Puss managed to procure, but was amazed when her cat told her that there was more to come. So, at his insistence, the following Saturday, Puss and Jennifer made their way to a lake near the forest road. Once there, he told Jennifer to take off her clothes, get in the lake and start bathing. After Puss had repeated himself a sufficient number of times to satisfy his mistress, Jennifer did this (while Puss was looking the other way, of course) and was alarmed when she saw Puss throw her clothes into the woods. Puss assured her it was all a part of his plan. “Just stay right there,” said Puss, though Jennifer assured him she had no intention of getting out of the water any time soon. “Everything will be all right if you just go along with everything I say, baby.”

“Stop calling me ‘baby’,” said Jennifer.

“Right, sorry. Now, I must leave you for a moment, but when I return, it will be to make you prosperous beyond your wildest dreams.”

“Wait!” cried Jennifer before Puss left. “I have to ask…why are you doing all this for me? You’ve already won your life. Why are you still helping me?”

“You don’t know?” Jennifer shook her head. “Well, it’s not easy to explain. I know your father never wanted a girl. I know he treated you poorly because you were his first daughter and not his third son. The truth is he never wanted me either. None of them did. Your father and brothers never treated me with any kindness. They never even bothered to give me a real name. Not like you, the way you would rub my belly and scratch my ear. You were always the nicest and the smartest in the family. And when your father died and left you the only thing he cared less about than you…”

Jennifer wiped a tear from her eye, which proved a pointless effort because her hand was wet. “My friend,” she said to her cat. “I promise that if you can do all the things you say you can, I will give you the grandest name any cat has ever had. Now hurry. I’m getting cold…and pruny.”

So, with a brand new spring in his step, Puss ran to the road and waited. He didn’t have long to wait because the king’s carriage approached soon. Inside, the King and Prince George were surprised to see Puss standing in the road in front of them, jumping up and down, waving his paws and shouting “Help! Help, oh help please!” They stopped the carriage at once and asked what the matter was. “It is my mistress, the Marquis of Carabass!” said Puss. “She was bathing in the lake—as is her wont—when someone stole her clothes. It’s my fault, sire. I looked away for a moment! Oh, woe is me!”

Of course, the king was only too happy to help the overdramatic cat. He had not forgotten the gift of the Very Surprised Turkeys the Marquis had made. Of course, the king had no ladies’ clothing in his carriage, but, since he always kept a packed trunk in the carriage in case of emergencies (Yeah, it’s weird, but that’s royalty for you), he offered to let Puss take the trunk to his mistress and allow her to find something suitable. Puss thanked him for his generosity and (with great difficulty) dragged the trunk back to Jennifer. Between them they were able to fashion the king’s clothing into an outfit which made Jennifer look every bit the Marquis of Carabass…which is when Puss told her about the lies he had told to get them this far.

“WHAT?!?!?!” said Jennifer at the top of her voice. “You told him I was a…what the heck is a ‘Markey’ anyway?”

“I don’t know, I just made it up. But it sounds good, no?”

“No! It doesn’t. Puss, when you said you were going to make me rich and successful, you never said you were doing it by lying!”

“Well, where did you think I got the gold from? Rumplestilskin?”

“That’s not the point. You’ve dragged me into your lies and I won’t have any part of it. I’m going home.”

“You can’t! The king is here, right now! As is his son, Prince George! They’re expecting you.”

“No, they’re expecting the Marquis of Wherever! I’m just a miller’s daughter! I don’t have money, power or huge…tracts of land. All I have in this whole world is you!”

“And you’re all I have, Jennifer!” said the cat. “You gave me a sack and a pair of old boots and in less than a day, I gave you a bag of gold and a standing invitation with the royal family. I’m just asking you to trust me a little bit longer.”

“I don’t want to pretend to be something I’m not,” said Jennifer.

“I’m not asking you to. In fact, I insist that you be yourself. I promise, they may have been taken in by the Marquis of Carabass, but by the time we’re done, it will be Jennifer who has won their trust.” Jennifer looked in Puss’s eyes and found the reassurance she needed.

“I must be out of my mind!” she said, walking toward the road trying to look…Marquisy.

“It is very good to finally meet you,” said the king. “Would you like to join us in our ride? I can give you a lift to your castle if you like.”

Jennifer was not used to this kind of deceit, so Puss stepped in before she could answer. “Of course, she would be delighted to. If you don’t mind, mistress, I shall proceed to your castle now and ready everything for your arrival.” So, Jennifer allowed Prince George to help her into the carriage. Meanwhile, Puss was giving the coachman very bad directions which would (eventually) lead him to the Marquis of Carabass’s castle. So doing, Puss waved a fond goodbye to the passengers on the coach…and then set to work doing something very dangerous and slightly insane.

You see, the wealthiest and most powerful landowner in the area was actually a Giant Ogre. He had farmlands stretching all over the countryside, a castle on a hill, not to mention the ability to change into any kind of animal. A skill which he regularly abused by turning into a mouse or a bird and spying on his workers to make sure they were working hard enough. Anyone found not to be working to the Ogre’s satisfaction would be summoned to his castle and promptly eaten…with fries, usually, which were invented much longer ago than you probably thought.

So it was pretty dangerous (and, again, insane) for Puss to walk up to servants working in the Ogre’s field and say, “Attention! Those in the employ of the ogre! I have this announcement:” here Puss unrolled a blank piece of paper and pretended to read: “The ogre who owns this land will now be referring to himself as the ‘Marquis of Carabass.’ You will refer to him as such or he will grind your bones to make his bread.”

That’s just something ogres say, it’s another rule.

Puss repeated this announcement at every field along the route he had given the coachman, and he had to do it quickly as he had only a slight lead on the carriage, wherein a most stimulating discussion was taking place. Jennifer had been afraid that as soon as she tried to make conversation with the two royals, her cover would be blown. But, being a well-read, intellectually curious young woman, she found she was able to hold her own, and even impressed both King and Prince with her insight and intellect. As the carriage ride continued, Jennifer realized that she wasn’t playing a part, like she had thought. She was just being herself, and that’s what was making such a good impression on the king and his incredibly handsome son who hadn’t been able to take his eyes or ears off Jennifer from the moment she got in the carriage.

So, when the king stopped his carriage by a few farmhands and asked them whose land they were working, and they said “The Marquis of Carabass’” for fear of being eaten, that was just icing on the cake.

At the end of the road was the Ogre’s castle on a hill. Puss was here now, putting the last phase of his plan into action. He entered the Ogre’s castle and said to him, “Hey! Ogre-Baby! How’s it goin’, man? I am an admirer from a distant land. I have heard that, in addition to being a great landowner, you have magic powers. Is this true?”

“Certainly,” said the Ogre, always eager to brag to someone he planned to eat. “I can change myself into any animal. Look:” and with that he turned himself into a lion, a bear and a bull elephant within a few seconds.

Puss was frightened, but tried not to show it. It’s difficult to keep the upper hand in negotiations if you’re in mortal terror, you know. “I guess that’s impressive,” he said at last in his most Ooh, What Do I Care Voice.

“Guess?” said the incredulous Ogre.

“I mean, turning yourself into something big’s not all that impressive. Could you turn into something as small as, say…a mouse?”

“Could I? Just watch!” And the ogre turned into a tiny little field mouse. No sooner had he done this than Puss leaped on him, grabbed him and gobbled him up. Thus the Ogre was gone and the last thing he thought before he was devoured was, “Well, I really should’ve seen this coming, huh?”

The King’s carriage arrived shortly thereafter and if you thought the king was impressed before it was nothing to how he felt now. He saw the Marquis of Carabass living in this giant castle, with throngs of loyal servants (who were confused, but generally happy to be rid of the ogre) and more land than the king himself. So he was more than pleased to grant his son’s request, and allow him to marry Jennifer.

And this might have been where our story ended, but there were promises to be kept. Puss and Jennifer came clean to the king and prince about the whole thing. Puss took full responsibility, insisting that he only acted in Jennifer’s best interests and she was a reluctant accomplice to the whole thing. Of course, the king was shocked at first, but after a moment of consideration he laughed and put his arms around Jennifer. “You are a bright, lovely, charming girl with a very impressive cat who has managed to rid my kingdom of a fearsome ogre. I say bygones. Son?”

Of course George needed no convincing, for he had been in love with Jennifer from the start, and never the Marquis of Carabass. Which is why, as she realized she didn’t need it anymore, she gave that name to Puss and from that day forth, he was known as the Marquis of Carabass! A far grander name than any cat has ever had. And he lived for the rest of his days with his mistress, Princess Jennifer and her husband, Prince George in their own castle, and he lived for many long, happy years, where he was cared for, well fed and never had to chase mice again…

Except every now and then, just for fun!

THE END

If You Liked My Story, You Might Enjoy:

• “Faerie Tale Theatre” (TV) Gregory Hines, Ben Vereen and Alfre Woodard star
• Shrek 2 (2004) For the record, I think that this movie, like its predecessor, sucks beyond the telling of it. But, there aren’t that many Puss in Boots movies I could mention, and I happened to think this character was pretty funny.
• Nagagutsu o Haita Neko (1969) Animated Japanese version which might have died in obscurity, had one of its key animators not been Hayao Miyazaki, who has since directed such films as Kiki’s Delivery Service, Princess Mononoke and Spirited Away

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