Friday, September 2, 2011

The Singing Bone







A slightly chilling tale from the Brothers Grimm.


It seems there was a savage boar rampaging the country, killing hunters, destroying crops, making life generally unbearable for the populace. The king therefore issued the following challenge: Anyone who can slay the beast (and bring back its head as proof) will get ten million gold coins, their own castle and half my kingdom. Of course, issuing challenges like this is a good way to get stupid people killed and lots of ambitious idiots died trying to slay the boar.

But then a couple of brothers went into the forest to try to kill the boar. The older brother, Terry, was brave, strong, clever and the best fighter in town. His younger brother, Buddy, was sort of dumpy, fat, not too bright, but had a good heart and wanted to help his brother get the reward which he knew he himself was not fit to earn for himself.

For three days they wandered the forest, without so much as a sign of the boar. Finally they saw it devouring the remains of a rabbit. Terry asked Buddy (very quietly) to pass him the crossbow so he could shoot the boar. But poor, foolish Buddy, dropped the crossbow and it went off, the arrow hitting a tree not three feet from the boar. The sound aroused the boar’s attention and it charged at the brothers. Panicked, Terry ran away, but Buddy stayed behind.

“You lousy pig!” he hollered at the charging boar. “I’ll teach you to scare my big brother!” And with that, he began swinging his brother’s sword wildly and by sheer chance, it sliced right through the boar’s neck. Neither one could believe it. The boar was dead. And it had been Buddy, not Terry, who had slain it. “I did it!” cried Buddy. “I actually did it! Say, does this mean I get the castle and the land and everything?”

“Yes, Buddy. Yes it does.” Terry was very disappointed. He wasn’t even happy for his brother, just mad that he wasn’t going to get the reward. The fact that it was his own fault for running away like a scared cockatoo and that his brave, loyal brother really did deserve it didn’t matter. He was Buddy! He was the dopey, stupid-looking one. But I’m Terry, he thought. I’m the handsome, strong son. I look like a hero, not Buddy!

They gathered up the boar's head and put it in a sack before returning to the kingdom to claim the prize. All the way there, Buddy was talking excitedly about how their lives were going to change. “I mean, I know, technically, I killed the boar, but I couldn’t have done it without you, Terry! We’ll share the prize, that’s what we’ll do. We’ll both live in the castle and rule over the half of the kingdom. I wonder if we get to pick which half? Anyway, we’ll be rich and prosperous and we’ll probably meet some nice girls and get married. It’ll be so much fun, huh, Terry? Terry, are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

Indeed, Terry was looking pretty awful. Between that and Buddy’s throat being dry from all the talking, they stopped to rest at a small pond. Buddy went down to the water to take a drink. As he knelt by the pond, bent over the water, an awful thought entered Terry’s mind. They were alone in the woods. Nobody for miles. No one actually saw what happened. I’ve got the sword and the head…he had made his decision. He took his hunting knife…crept up behind Buddy…and stabbed him in the heart. He buried his brother’s body right there, by the pond, under an elm tree. Then Terry returned to the kingdom alone to claim his prize.


Many years passed and by now, more people had moved to the kingdom, so the forest had to be pushed back to make room for more homes. The pond and the elm tree that marked Buddy’s grave were removed and a farmer was now living on that spot, plowing his land to plant some crops. His plow uncovered a bone which he threw to his dog without thinking. But when his son came to play with the dog and saw the bone in his mouth, he took it and looked at it more closely. Too big for a rabbit or any kind of bird, the boy thought. Maybe this is the bone of some great beast that lived in the forest before all this farmland was here. In any case, he thought it was neat and decided to hollow it out, carve some holes in it and turn it into a flute. But when he sat down to play it, instead of musical notes, words came out. The bone was singing, and what it sang was:

     Oh, little farmer’s son
     Listen to my tale
     I slew a boar so long ago
     My courage did not fail
     My wicked brother killed me then
     To claim my prize for his own
     He lay me ‘neath a tall elm tree
     Now I’m nothing but this bone

Needless to say the boy was horrified by what he had heard. He played it through a few more times and the words didn’t change. The bone was singing to the boy. He played it for his father, and then it sang “Oh, Farmer of this land” and he too was shocked. They went at once to the king and played it for him. But this time, it sang “Your majesty, my sovereign king…” The king sent for his longtime ally, Duke Terry and the truth was revealed. Now everyone knew that it was Buddy, and not Terry, who had slain the boar all those years ago. For his crimes, he was stripped of his title, his land and his castle and his gold was distributed among the poor. He was not thrown in prison, but rather forced to wander the earth for the rest of his life with the Singing Bone, as a constant reminder of his crimes and of the kind, gentle brother who only wanted to share his good fortune with the man he loved more than any other.

THE END


If You Liked My Story, You Might Enjoy:

  • The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm (1962) In this version, Terry-Thomas and Buddy Hackett (see?) are a knight and his squire who are charged by a king to rid the land of a ferocious dragon. This was probably changed to add more traditional "fairy tale" elements to the movie. Also, in this version, the bone magically reconstitutes the squire who becomes master of the knight...but that's weird, so I didn't do it.


For More Great Stories, Click HERE

Friday, August 19, 2011

The Reluctant Dragon


This story originally appeared in a book called “Dream Days” by Kenneth Grahame (best known today as the author of “The Wind in the Willows”). While the other stories in the book fell to obscurity, this one went on to become the author’s most famous short story, even going on to inspire one of my favorite (though not terribly well-known) Walt Disney films. This is also an important story, as it might be the first major work to depict the dragon as a sympathetic character, rather than a mindless killing machine, an idea which has inspired all manner of works about dragons from Jeff Smith’s graphic novel Bone to Disney’s Pete’s Dragon to the Academy-award nominated How To Train Your Dragon.


Quite a long way away and quite a long time ago, in a quite little village…no, a quiet little village…there lived a boy named James who was many years ahead of his time. You see, he lived in what we call “the dark ages” when people were a little bit stupid because they were more than a little bit afraid (which, let’s face it, is the most succinct explanation of that time period you are ever going to read). James, however, wasn’t all that afraid but was quite…quiet? No, quite…quite curious about the world around him. He wanted to learn as much as he could, which made him something of an outcast.

So, it’s nice to know that hasn’t changed.

One day he was out exploring, sketching wildlife, identifying plants, that kind of thing, when he heard a horrible sound. A truly terrible sound. A blood-curdling, heart-stopping sound that would’ve made a lesser man (boy) turn and run. But James had to know what was making that sound. Apart from anything else, he thought someone might be hurt. He followed the sound until he came to a sort of pool, surrounded by lush green trees and pretty flowers. And, in the pool itself, was the thing that was making the noise. It was quite big, far bigger than any animal James had ever seen, and seemed to be reptiliean, based on the scales. It was purple, had a long tail and horns, and the horrible sound it was making seemed to be singing.

James was looking at a dragon singing in the bathtub.

“Er…hello?” ventured James, somewhat nervously.

The dragon started slightly at this, then, when it saw the boy, heaved a sigh of relief. “You startled me, young man! You shouldn’t sneak up on a person like that.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Oh, never mind. No harm done. As long as you’re here, would you care to join me for tea?”

James accepted and had the most pleasant tea he ever had with the dragon and the two parted as good friends. In fact, James found himself going back to visit the dragon every day from then on. The other boys in the neighborhood thought James was weird and didn’t like playing with him. The grown ups also thought his interest in knowledge was unhealthy and so he didn’t really get on with anyone in his village. But the dragon was very supportive. He was always up for an intellectual discussion about art, literature and politics and seemed very impressed by James’ maturity and wisdom, not to mention his innate curiosity, the same trait which led to his being ostracized by his own species.

Everything was going swimingly for James and the Dragon until one evening when James was at home and his father came in looking worried.

“What is it?” asked James’ mother.

“They’ve confirmed it. The scouts have reported in and they’re sure of it. There’s a dragon living in the downs beyond our village.”

“Oh no!”

“I’m afraid so. Tomorrow the mayor and his corporation will meet and we’ll decide what’s to be done about it.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to sleep knowing that awful beast is so close.”

“Everything will be all right, dear,” said James’ father. But James was not convinced. He knew that the Dragon was harmless, but he didn’t think he’d be able to convince the whole town. And how could he, without admitting that he’d been spending time with the Dragon, which, by itself, would’ve scandalized the town. They already thought he was a little peculiar. This wouldn’t exactly help disprove that.

Of course, being a social misfit does have its advantages. One of them being that nobody pays too much attention to what you do. That’s why nobody had noticed that James was disappearing every day at tea time. Today, however, they did notice. James’ mother dragged him along to the town meeting and refused to let her only child out of her sight until a solution to the dragon emergency was found.

The town meeting was an organized forum for every idiot with a pitchfork to yell out their paranoid superstition in front of the mayor and his corporation (what we could call his advisors or cabinet). When the meeting was finally called to order and nobody had said anything remotely helpful, the Mayor himself stood up.

“My friends,” he began, though this was a complete lie as he was the least popular mayor in the village’s five hundred year history. “I have in my hand a letter which shall be dispatched at once to that greatest of warriors, Sir George himself! If anyone can rid us of this horrible beast, it is Sir George!” This was met with hearty cheers from the villagers, so loud that they totally eclipsed James cry of “Oh no!” He wanted to go to see the Dragon at once and warn him, but his mother was still keeping a close watch on him. Under cover of darkness, James snuck out of his house and went to see the Dragon who was sleeping across a large patch of hydrangea bushes.

“Dragon? Dragon, wake up!”

“James? What do you mean going around waking people at all hours of the night? I was having the loveliest dream, too. There was this monkey, you see, and he and I were—

“You’ve got run, Dragon! Run away from this place!”

“Run? James, whatever are you talking about?”

“The villagers know you’re here! They’ve sent for a knight to come and exterminate you. You have to run away or else fight him to the death.”

“Fight? Death? What are you going on about, boy? I haven’t done anything to offend this village of yours, or this knight fellow. I refuse to run when I have committed no crime, and I refuse to fight. So you’ll just have to tell everyone to call the whole thing off. Now, if you don’t mind, I want to get back to my dream.”

James tried to convince the Dragon of the seriousness of his situation, but the stubborn old lizard wouldn’t listen and fell back to sleep, where he and the monkey doubtless had a wonderful time. James, on the other hand, went home, very worried about his good friend.


A few days later, the town was abuzz with the news that Sir George had arrived. He had been given rooms at the local inn, where it was said that he was strategizing and determining how best to vanquish the dragon. James managed to get away from his mother and sneak into the inn to have a word with the knight. Sure enough, the great hero (who was getting on in years) was sitting at his table perusing a map of the area where the dragon was known to be.

“Excuse me, Sir George. I have to tell you something important about the dragon.”

“I appreciate the thought, boy,” said Sir George, “but I assure you, I know all there is to know about dragons. I have fought more dragons than I can count,” (which was substantially true, as he had fought four dragons, and education was not a quality favored in knights at this time), “so I think I can handle yours just fine, thank you.”

“No, this dragon is different. He’s good.”

“Good? Good? My boy, there is no such thing as a good dragon. They are beings of pure hate and hellfire! They exist only to burn and devour. Why, I remember when I faced Trogdor the Burn—”

“You’re wrong, Sir George! This dragon is my friend!” And James told the knight all about how he had been spending his tea times for the past month with the Dragon and they had discussed history and literature and even composed and recited original poems. The boy even recited one of the Dragon’s compositions:

Why does the sun live up in the sky?
And when it looks down below
Does it think of how lovely the land seems to be?
I think we shall never know.

And if it does think our land is a beautiful sight
Does it know that it wouldn’t be so
If it weren’t for the sun shining up in the sky
On our beautiful country below?

“You say the dragon wrote that?” said Sir George, who was not much for poetry, but had to admit that it wasn’t bad. “I’ve heard of dragons who rampage, dragons who burn, dragons who eat people and livestock, dragons who pick their teeth with the bones of their enemies, but I’ve never heard of a dragon who writes poetry.”

“I’ll be honest, it was a little strange to me, too,” said James.

“Well, I’ve slain dragons who were causing harm to others. I don’t think I could slay one who was minding his own business and writing poetry.”

“Yes, but it’s worse than that. These people will never accept him for who he is. They think all dragons are evil. They won’t give him a chance to prove them wrong. They’ll never be satisfied until you bring back his head!”

“Then what’s to be done?”

“I have a plan that should fix everything, but we'll all have to be in agreement.” He explained his plan to Sir George, who thought it was excellent. Then he snuck away to see the Dragon, who was, at the moment, making a light salad from the various flora that grew around his cave. Then he explained his plan to the Dragon and he too agreed. Everything was in place and one way or another, it would all end tomorrow.


So the next day, Sir George stepped out of the inn in full battle armor and announced that he was going to slay the dragon. He marched toward the dragon’s cave, accumulating a crowd of onlookers as he did so. James’ parents were also in the mob who wanted to see this for themselves. And, of course, so was James, though he was the only one of the spectators who knew what was really going on.

At the mouth of the cave, Sir George stopped, turned to his admirers and said, “Now, to battle!” The crowd cheered and Sir George charged into the cave, sword drawn. The spectators heard roars and saw smoke and flame erupt from the mouth of the cave. They heard Sir George cry “Take that! And that! And this! And some of these! How 'bout a couple of those? Do you have change for one of these?!?” and similar expressions. They also heard the loud clanking of metal on rock and the occasional roar which could only be coming from the beast himself. Their view was obscured by the dragon’s flaming breath, but it sounded like an epic battle was going on inside. James couldn’t help but smile, since he knew that Sir George and the Dragon were actually just banging pots and pans together and shouting a bit. Finally, the smoke died away and the sounds of the Dragon panting and begging for mercy could be heard. Then the battle stopped entirely and all was silent. After an amount of time that both parties agreed was realistic, Sir George stepped out of the cave…followed closely by a limping Dragon.

“No! Do not be afraid!” Sir George said quickly as the sight of the dragon had caused panic in the crowd. “You see, I have spared this beast’s life on the condition that he will be a good dragon from now on! I have reformed him!”

The plan worked perfectly! The townspeople were convinced that the knight had tamed the dragon and he was allowed to stay in the cave from then on. James was still his closest friend, but others followed in time. Soon, the dragon was a part of the community. As for Sir George, he decided he was too old for this kind of thing, so he retired and became a permanent resident of the village. Which is how these three unlikely friends, the knight, the boy and the dragon, lived happily ever after.

THE END

If You Liked My Story, You Might Enjoy:
  • The Reluctant Dragon (1941) This live action Disney movie stars noted humorist Robert Benchley, who is wandering around the Disney animation studio to pitch Walt the idea of making a movie based on this story. The film ends with a lavishly animated adaptation of Grahame’s story which apparently was made long before Robert even showed up! Other animated highlights include Goofy's How to Ride a Horse and the story of Baby Weems, which is presented in the style of an animation storyboard.
  • "The Shirley Temple Show" (1960) Ms. Temple presented a weekly television series which depicted famous children's stories acted out by a cast of guest stars. This one starred Shirley, John Raitt and Jonathan Harris.




NEXT WEEK: 

"Hans In Luck"

Friday, August 12, 2011

Hansel and Gretel







It has been said before now that the so-called "original" versions of many fairy tales (if my research has taught me anything, it's that there's no such thing) are not suitable for today's children. A very good argument in favor of this is the version of this story made famous by our German friends, Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. In their version, the children's mother decides to abandon them in the woods so as to have fewer mouths to feed. Their father, though resistant at first, eventually gives in.

Another interesting thing about this story is what happens after the two escape from the witch's house. In the Grimm, they are running home, carrying precious stones and gems they have stolen from the witch, when they come across a large lake and they take turns crossing on the back of a duck...the answer to the question you are now asking is, "I have no earthly idea." This reminds one of "Iron Henry" from the end of the Grimm version of "The Frog Prince," in that it is a completely unnecessary, frivolous and entirely pointless element which every subsequent adaptation has, wisely, jettisoned from their tellings.


Finally, and this isn't exactly relevant to the story, but today just happens to be my kid brother's 25th birthday. So, HIPY PAPY BTHUTHDTH THUTHDA BTHUTHDY, Dash!


For some reason, the logic behind which is now, sadly, lost to us, people used to live in cottages in the middle of the woods. This allowed for some very nice scenery, but made it difficult to get anything done. The nearest village was usually quite a hike (or, in the Yiddish, “schlepp”) and more time was lost in commuting than anything else. Not to mention the constant fear of your kids being eaten by some manner of predator.

But, foolish though it may seem to you and I, it was the norm Once Upon a Time and Long Ago (see how I did that?), so let’s just get on with the story. Which is about a wood-cutter, his wife, and his two children, called Hansel and Gretel.

Now, the wood-cutter was a good man with a good heart, a keen mind and a solid work ethic. Unfortunately, what he didn’t have was customers. He chopped down lots of wood and got a lot of work done, but nobody bought his firewood. And since cutting wood was all he really knew how to do, it looked for certain that he and his family would starve to death.

Bummer.

But Hansel and Gretel would not let that happen. The good news is that they loved their parents and very much wanted to help. The bad news is that, being children, they were easily swept up by fantasy. Hansel read a book about a buried treasure being deep in the forest, and assumed that there must be a similar treasure in their forest. Once he had convinced Gretel of this, the siblings set out into the woods with only a loaf of bread between them as rations.

Hansel led the way with Gretel bringing up the rear. He blazed a trail with his wooden sword while Gretel was busy tearing pieces of bread from the loaf they had brought. She dropped them as they walked so as to provide a trail they could follow back to the house. Many hours later, the intrepid duo stopped in the middle of a clearing.

“I think we’re lost,” said Hansel. “I don’t even know how to get home.”

“I do,” said Gretel. And she told Hansel about the trail of breadcrumbs. So they started to follow the trail home, vowing to continue the search tomorrow.

But the birds, unlike Hansel, hadn’t needed an explanation of the trail of breadcrumbs. They just ate them. With the trail gone, Hansel and Gretel were more lost than ever. They wandered through the night, trying to find something familiar. Around midnight, they were too tired to go on and went to sleep. A few hours later, they awoke and continued trying to find their way home. At length they came to a meadow, hidden from the rest of the forest by a thick outcrop of trees. Here they found, not the clear path home they were hoping for, but something far more remarkable.

It was a house. Just an ordinary house in every respect except for one: It was made entirely out of sweets! The walls were gingerbread, the roof tiles were fruit pies, the windows were clear, spun sugar, the flower box was frosting, the cobblestones were gumdrops, the doorknob was a candy apple, the insulation was…well, okay, you get the idea.

Now, for two small children who have just spent the night in a scary forest with no food, there are very few sights more welcome than that of an edible house. Gretel suggested they knock on the door and ask the person who lived there for a bite, but Hansel just tucked in immediately and began devouring the house. Gretel shrugged and joined in. It must’ve been half an hour before they even thought about the owner of the house, and that was just because she spoke to them.

“Well, well, well,” she said. Hansel and Gretel looked around, their mouths still dripping with sugary sweets and saw a little old woman with warts on her nose, long shriveled hands and a black robe. Recognizable to any sentient being on the planet as an evil witch. Needless to say, but I will anyway, Hansel and Gretel were a little frightened.

But the witch smiled at them and said, “Oh, you poor dears, you must be starving to death. If you come inside, I have some more food for you.”

Of course, we all know better than to go into a strange woman’s (witch’s) house and accept her offer of food. But between being scared to death, homesick, hungry, a mild sugar buzz, and the fact that Hansel was not the cleverest of little children, he completely forgot this very basic rule of safety and followed the Witch into her house. Gretel shrugged and followed him as well.

Once inside, as promised, the Witch gave Hansel and Gretel heaps of food. And not just sweets, but real food. Chicken and ham and beef and vegetable soup and mashed potatoes…I could go on and on, but I won’t, because I’ve wasted enough time on needless exposition. And everything was delicious. Like you imagine food tastes when you see it on TV. Hansel and Gretel felt they’d never get enough.

Especially Hansel, who was already on the portly side.

After they’d had enough to eat, the Witch asked if they’d like to go to sleep?

“No, thank you. We need to get—” began Gretel, but Hansel blurted out, “Sure!”

So, the Witch led them to a special room that looked as though it had prepared for just such an emergency. She led them each to their beds, tucked them in very gently and wished them good night…


But the next morning Hansel found himself suspended in the air in a large wooden cage! Suddenly the Witch’s intentions were abundantly clear. She was going to fatten up Hansel and eat him! Gretel, who was more on the petite side, would have the unpleasant task of serving her brother the food he was to eat in order to get fatter quicker.

“And if you don’t eat every morsel she serves you,” the Witch warned, “I will kill your sister right in front of your eyes!” Here she let out a loud cackle, an evil laugh that shook the rafters. It shook the walls. It shook the cage Hansel was hanging in and it swung into the Witch’s head, knocking her spectacles off her face. “Blast! Now I won’t be able to see a thing. But that’s all right. I’ll be able to tell whether you’re getting fat enough. I’ll just feel your finger every day, and when it feels thick enough…suppertime!”

Hansel (the portly, Not Very Clever one) was scared to death that he was going to be eaten. Gretel (thinner, Cleverer), took a moment to think it over. Hansel wanted to find treasure in the woods. Gretel thought to leave a trail. Hansel started eating the house without permission. Gretel suggested they ask first. Hansel ran into the stranger’s house and accepted her offer of shelter. Gretel was apprehensive about both. Sure, she was stupid to follow him all this time, but she was still one heck of a lot smarter than Hansel! She could get them out of this mess easily.

“For once in your life,” she whispered to Hansel, “listen to me!”

The next morning the Witch came to feel Hansel’s finger. “What?” she exclaimed. “You need to eat more, child. Your hand feels as thin as a bone.” The reason for this was simple enough: His finger was a bone. At Gretel's suggestion, Hansel had saved a chicken bone from the previous night’s meal and stuck it out pretending it was his finger. With no glasses, the Witch couldn’t tell he was faking. Gretel helped him maintain the illusion for about a week. Hansel could eat as much as he wanted without gaining an ounce, as far as the Witch thought.

Then one day, the Witch felt Hansel’s finger again. Frustrated that he wasn’t gaining any weight, she had decided to go for a fly around the forest on her broomstick. But before she could leave she heard a loud snap and a crash. Even without her glasses, she could see what had happened: Hansel had gained so much weight that he had gotten too heavy for the cage to hold him and it had fallen.

“A ha!” cried the Witch. “So you have deceived me! Just for that I’m going to cook and eat both of you!” She dove at Hansel and Gretel, but they were smaller and faster (even the now Somewhat More Than Portly Hansel) and got out of the way just in time. Unable to stop herself, the Witch dove into the oven, which had been lit to cook Hansel’s breakfast, and burned herself alive…

Ew!

The fire spread. It caught the walls, the windows and everything. Gretel dragged her heavy brother out of the house just as the whole place was going up in smoke. In a matter of seconds, the gingerbread house was an enormous bonfire that was visible for miles…

Even at the home of the wood-cutter and his wife.

Well, from there it was an easy matter for Hansel and Gretel’s parents to find them and bring them home. Nothing was left of the witch's house, except for what she kept in her basement: Diamonds, jewels, gold coins, treasure beyond belief! Hansel and Gretel and their parents were now wealthy beyond their wildest dreams. And, from that day on, Hansel always took the advice of his clever sister, Gretel. 

Oh, and they lived happily ever after, in case you  hadn’t guessed.


THE END

If You Liked My Story, You Might Enjoy:
  • Babes in the Woods (1932) An early Disney Silly Symphony which, while clearly based on this story, seems to go out of its way to distract you from the fact. Here the children have no names and befriend a band of dwarfs (early prototypes for Snow White) before being set upon a by a witch (likewise) whose house is made of sweets, but who turns children into horrible creatures instead of eating them.
  • "Hansel and Gretel" (operetta) The most famous composition by English composer Englebert Humperdink whose name is much better than his music could ever be...although his music is still pretty good.
  • "Fractured Fairy Tales" (TV) I mention this because their version of this story is one of the few to actually use the duck bit I mentioned earlier. 
  • "Faerie Tale Theatre" (TV) Here, Joan Collins is the wicked stepmother and the witch, Paul Dooley is the kindly father and a very young Rick Schroeder is Hansel.
  • Bewitched Bunny (1954) This one starts as Hansel and Gretel, but Bugs Bunny saves them and takes their place as the witch's intended victim. The best part, though, is that, for some reason, everyone refers to the boy as "Haaaaansel" which is a great running gag in a cartoon, but which would never work in text.






NEXT WEEK: 
"The Reluctant Dragon"

Friday, July 15, 2011

The Sorcerer's Apprentice




















Okay, let’s go through this carefully: First, there was a story about this sorcerer who had an apprentice. Then Goethe wrote it up as a poem. Then Paul Dukas wrote a symphonic piece based on the story and the poem. Then Walt Disney and Leopold Stokowski made a short film starring Mickey Mouse. Then the film was made part of a feature called Fantasia. Then it was used again 59 years later in Fantasia/2000. Then a live action film was made which was based very loosely on the story but which is still excellent. Everyone good? 


By the way, in case some you haven't been keeping track, tomorrow marks the one-year anniversary of this blog. For a while, I thought that would be "good bye," but I've since decided to keep it going. I want to thank my regular readers for taking such an interest over the past year, and here's hoping I have more of you to thank at this time next year. Okay, here we go:


This story is about a boy named Jay who lived in a village with his mother and father. Jay was at the age when young boys of the time were supposed to choose a trade. Then they would become apprenticed to a tradesman and become...an apprentice, in the hopes of one day becoming a tradesman themselves. But the choices open to Jay in his village were none too appealing. Blacksmith, wheelwright, fisherman, green grocer, butcher, baker, candlestick maker. They all struck Jay as boring and pointless, even the ones that rhymed. He wanted an exciting job. He wanted a vocation that would make his life an adventure. He wanted to be somebody important.

One day a traveler came to town in a rickety old cart drawn by a single, elderly horse. The townspeople looked at the strange man, transfixed. He was dark, mysterious, he wore a blue cloak that almost completely covered his face. Many people saw him, but each one gave a different description. Some said he was a withered old man with a long silver beard. Others said he was young and strong with powerful arms and a square set jaw. Still others said he was both at once, but they were all looking at the same man. As it just so happened, Jay was walking in the streets on his way to the grocer to pick up a sack of barley when the traveler called out to him. “Pardon me, boy,” came the dark, deep voice of the stranger. “What is the name of this village?”

“This village has no name, sir,” said Jay. “It’s too small. No one’s ever given it a name.”

“I see. Can you direct me to an inn where I can pass the night?”

“Actually, we don’t have one of those. Like I said, we’re a small town. You can keep going on, if you like. The next town is about three hours down the road.”

“Three hours by a strong horse, perhaps. But Diana here is not as fast as she once was,” he said indicating his horse. “I doubt I’ll get there before nightfall.”

“Perhaps you could stay with us. I’m sure my parents wouldn’t object. Nobody should be in those woods at night.”

The traveler accepted the boy’s offer. His parents were a little cross at him inviting the stranger to spend the night without checking with them first, but their eagerness to help a body in need outweighed their anger at the boy. The horse and cart were tied up outside, the traveler, who gave his name as Sidney, was led inside. Here he removed his cloak and at last the family got a good look at him. He was, indeed, an old man with wrinkles in his skin, boney hands and a long gray beard. Jay led him to a chair and by the time he sat down he was visibly about twenty years younger! He kept getting gradually younger until he looked about twenty-five, at which point he started getting slowly older.

“I see it is pointless trying to hide it,” said Sidney. “I am a powerful sorcerer. My age is beyond measure and my life defies description. I have lived in the past, the present and the future. The truth is, I exist outside of time, thus my rather unusual appearance…or, I suppose, appearances.”

This frightened Jay’s mother and father and they even toyed briefly with the idea of throwing the stranger out (ultimately deciding not to get on his bad side). Jay, on the other hand, was fascinated and spent the rest of the evening bending the sorcerer’s ear about magic and enchantments. At times, Jay thought he was being rude, but couldn’t stop himself, so enthralled was he by Sidney’s world. In any case, the sorcerer didn’t mind as he was actually growing to like Jay.

The following morning, when Sidney prepared to leave, he said, “You have all been very kind to me, and I wish to help you in return. I gather that your son has not yet chosen a vocation. Let me take him with me. He can be my apprentice. In time, I will teach him the ways of magic and he will be a great sorcerer like me.” As before, magic was something frightening to Jay’s parents, but Jay himself was so eager that they found they couldn’t refuse. It was a tearful goodbye, but Sidney gave his assurance that the boy would be in the best of hands. On the long cart ride home, Sidney said to Jay, “Now, remember, Jay: You are my apprentice. It isn’t going to be easy. You will have to do as I say, obey my commands. I am your master now, and you must treat me as such. Do you understand?” Jay said he did, but he was beginning to have second thoughts.


Sidney’s home was an old stone manor in the country, but it was sort of run down and out of repair. That changed, however, when Jay came on as the sorcerer’s apprentice. He was put to work at once, cleaning, repairing, mending, tending Diana (the horse, remember?), relabeling the ingredients for Sidney’s potions. After only a few months of this, Jay was fed up. He hadn’t learned a single thing about magic. Every time Sidney went to his magician’s study to perform a spell or mix a potion, Jay would try to look in and see for himself, but Sidney ushered him out of the room, assigning him a task on the other side of the manor. Once or twice, however, Jay was able to peek through a crack in the door at the wonderful things Sidney did in his study.

One fateful day, Sidney went into town to buy supplies and Jay was given the job of gathering water from the well to fill the sorcerer’s cauldron. The cauldron was big enough for about forty gallons and the walk from the well to the cauldron took about five minutes when you weren’t weighed down with two buckets full of water, so Jay was clearly going to be busy for quite some time. Still, he liked this task because it allowed him to spend some time alone in the magician’s study. As he tipped the second bucket of water into the cauldron, he glanced around the room. Strange concoctions, exotic animals in cages, shiny, sparkling objects which Jay could not identify and…a hat.

It was a tall, pointed hat, the same color blue as the sky at twilight, adorned all over with silver images of stars, moons, constellations. Sidney always wore it when he was performing his magic. Jay, in fact, had a sinking suspicion that the hat was the source of the sorcerer’s magic. Ordinarily, he kept it in his private chamber, but today he had accidentally left it behind. Knowing that his master was far away and wouldn’t be back until much later, Jay decided to give it a try. He set down the now empty pails and went to where the hat stood on a small table. He picked it up and placed it on his head. As soon as he did so, he felt the power flow through him. He thought he would try a simple spell. He looked around the room and saw a broom leaning against a wall. Summoning up all his strength, he concentrated on the broom and waved his hands at it. Incredibly, impossibly, the broom began to move. At length, it stood upright. Jay kept moving his hands and the broom actually seemed to walk over to him. Then he cast a spell to make the broom sprout arms, which reached out for the empty buckets and picked them up.

“Okay,” said Jay. “You know what to do. Master wants his cauldron filled so…get to it!”

The broom bowed reverently and took the buckets outside to the well. A few minutes later, it returned with the buckets now full of water, which it dumped into the cauldron before returning for more water. Jay was overjoyed. He was a little angry with Sidney for making him do all this hard work when he could’ve done it magically much easier, but he was too happy to hold a grudge. Besides, Sidney probably had no idea that Jay had such a natural talent for magic. Realizing that he now had the whole afternoon to himself with no work to do, he went up to his room to do something he almost never got the chance to do: Nap!

Jay had a wonderful dream. He was standing on top of a mountain, using the magic of the hat to command the very stars in the heaven to do his bidding. He felt this awesome sense of power and knew he was the greatest sorcerer the world had ever known. It was almost a shame to wake up in his shabby little room a while later. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep, so he went down to the study to check on the enchanted broom. When he got there, however, there was water all over the floor. The cauldron was overflowing, and there was the broom, pouring in yet another bucketful.

“No!” cried Jay. “Stop! That’s enough! You’re done! Knock it off!” But he couldn’t make the broom stop. It was walking back to the well for more water! Finally, in desperation, Jay took an axe from the closet and hacked the broom to pieces. It lay in splinters on the ground and Jay heaved a sigh of relief. Deciding that a broken broom would be easier to clean up, he resolved to mop up the water in the study first. This proved to be a mistake because he was so busy sopping up the extra water on the floor, that he didn’t see what happened to the pieces of broom: each and every splinter, every straw, every tiniest piece grew into a full-sized broom, each with arms and empty buckets to fill! This army of brooms marched outside, took turns filling up their buckets, and marched back inside where the horrified Jay was still trying to drain off the extra water.

Jay tried everything he could think of. He waved his arms and screamed. He yelled out snatches of incantations he had overheard from the sorcerer. He tried locking the door of the study, but they broke it down. Nothing would stop the enchanted brooms from pouring buckets of water into the still overflowing cauldron. And, to make matters worse, the brooms were now beginning to realize that Jay was trying to stop them from doing their job, and a few of them began reacting violently to his attempts to hold them off. In fact, it’s entirely likely that the brooms would’ve killed Jay and flooded the entire house if it hadn’t been for…

“ENOUGH!!!!”

Jay had been cowering in a corner when he heard the voice of his master. He opened his eyes and saw that the floor was dry. The cauldron was full, but not overflowing. Two empty buckets of water and a single, ordinary broom, lay on the floor. And standing right in front of Jay was Sidyen, staring down at his apprentice with pure fire in his stare.

“Take that off your head at once.” Jay had forgotten that he still had the hat on. He took it off and handed it to Sidney, who yanked it out of the boy’s grip. “Now,” continued the Sorcerer, “do you understand why I keep you away from this magic?” Jay nodded. “Why I want you to learn the importance of hard work without magic?” Jay nodded. “Why I was waiting until you were older to show you my trade, because magic is easy to perform but hard to control?” Jay nodded fervently. “Have you learned your lesson?” Jay nodded. “Then go to the kitchen and prepare our supper.” Jay was grateful for any excuse to escape the glare of the sorcerer, and he ran full speed to the kitchen and started cutting up vegetables.


Many years later, when he felt the boy was ready, Sidney did train Jay to be a sorcerer and he proved to be a good pupil. He was patient, obedient and attentive. He had learned the hard way the dangers of letting magic get out of control. And in years to come, Jay would be revered as the greatest sorcerer of all time…neither he nor Sidney ever spoke of the incident with the broom ever again. And the people of his old village were so proud of him, that the finally named their nameless town in his honor. Today, the Village of Jay can still be found and they still tell stories of the Sorcerer's Apprentice.


THE END

If You Liked My Story, You Might Enjoy:
  • Fanasia (1940) Originally “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” was to be a short released by itself, but Walt and Stokowski had so much fun working on it, that they built the feature around it. Still, this is the best part of the movie. Can you believe most of the Disney staff wanted Dopey the Dwarf to play the lead instead of Mickey?
  • The Sorcerer’s Apprentice (2010) Again, only very loosely based on the fable, but a really excellent film complete with a sequence that pays tribute to the animated version. Stars Nicolas Cage, Alfred Molina and Jay Baruchel, after whom my character is named.
NEXT WEEK:  MORE...

Friday, June 24, 2011

Pinocchio























I went back and forth on this one for some time. Techincally, it’s not a “fairy tale” in the strictest sense, but rather a novel written by Italian author Collodi. But, over the years it’s become part of the pantheon of stories along with Cinderella, Snow White and the rest (something else for which we probably can thank Walt Disney). Also, I thought the dark, complex nature of the original would present an interesting challenge, so I figured it was worth a try.

Speaking of dark, most people don’t realize that the version of the story we know today differs considerably from Collodi’s original intent. Indeed, the story originally ended with Pinocchio commiting suicide! (I promise, it’s true) It was a friend who advised him to add some more adventures and let Pinocchio live, and I think we’re all grateful that he did as the image of a wooden puppet hanging by his neck is the stuff nightmares are made of (it is worth asking how hanging himself would’ve worked when wood doesn’t breathe, but let’s leave that be for the moment).

Of course, most of us know the story best from Walt’s interpretation of 1940 which does take a few liberties. The character of Pinocchio, as originally written, was actually kind of a hellion. A rude, brash, cruel little boy who earned every bit of trouble he got himself into. When a wise talking cricket comes to help him, the puppet kills him with a hammer! Thank God Walt let the cricket live, gave him a name and made him such an indispensable part of the story that virtually every other version since has given Pinocchio an insect sidekick who lives to the end of the story.

Incidentally, the term “Jiminy Cricket” was an exclamation people used to use instead of another phrase which many consider blasphemous (look at the initials, it’ll come to you) before Walt made him a star. Come to think of it, in the movie Jiminy is sort of Pinocchio’s savior…hmm, interesting. But, again, that’s a discussion for another day. Here’s Pinocchio:


There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the greatest puppeteer of all time was a man named Stromboli. His traveling puppet show toured Europe and played before kings and peasants alike, making Stromboli a very wealthy man. And the greatest ambition for any woodcarver of that time was to make puppets for Stromboli’s show. And when the great Stromboli needed the finest puppets in the world, where did he go? To the shop of Geppetto, the woodcarver? This small, humble, elderly old craftsman with the gentle smile and the brilliant hands? Was it Geppetto to whom Stromboli came when he was in need of wooden perfection?

No, of course not, that would be stupid. He went to someone famous instead.

Which is a shame, because Geppetto was an expert woodcarver, and he made the most wonderful things you ever saw out of wood. Toys, games, music boxes, clocks and, of course, puppets. Wooden puppets that hung from strings so when you pulled them, it looked like they were moving around by themselves. What they call "Marionettes," or so I have read.

But even though Geppetto never sold a single puppet to Stromboli, he didn’t mind. He was quite happy with his toy shop, his friends in the village and the children who came to play in his shop every day. In fact, he was very happy overall, except for one thing: He was lonely. At the end of each day, he closed his toy shop and the children went home and poor Geppetto was all alone. No wife, no children of his own. Not even a cat or a goldfish or some kind of clever, talking insect with an umbrella and a top hat.

He did have a good friend in a woodcutter, who provided all the lumber, firewood and so on for the village. But every now and then he would come across a really fine piece of wood, which he would bring round to his friend Geppetto to see if he could make anything out of it. This time, the woodcutter gave Geppetto two pieces of wood. One was pine, the other oak. Good quality, nice and smooth, no knotholes or anything. Just the thing for carving a masterpiece. And that is just what he did. For weeks, even months, whenever he had a free moment, Geppetto would carve a perfect little body out of the pine and a perfect little head out of the oak. He would make a great marionette, a puppet of a little boy. And because he was carved from pine and oak, he gave the puppet the name “Pinocchio!”

“Well, my little Pinocchio,” he said as he put the finishing touches on his creation, “you’re coming along just fine.” It’s not surprising that, in his loneliness, Geppetto would talk to his toys and things as though they could hear him. Maybe some people thought he was crazy, but they all went home to their husbands or wives or children, so they were in no position to criticize a lonely old man. “Wouldn’t it be nice if someday you could dance on the stage of Stromboli’s theatre? You would be the star of the show.” Of course, Geppetto knew this would never happen, and the further he got in creating Pinocchio, the happier it made him. You see, Pinocchio was just like a real little boy, and it made Geppetto happy to pretend that he was really his son. Once or twice, someone in the shop asked to buy Pinocchio, but he always said no. Pinocchio was not for sale.

Finally, he was done. Finished. The paint and varnish had been applied and there was the little wooden boy: Pinocchio! Smiling at his father as though he knew how much the old man had come to love this little puppet. Geppetto was up very late, playing with the puppet, just like a child himself. At last he put Pinocchio away on the shelf and got himself into bed. And just before he fell asleep, he thought to himself, “Oh, how I wish Pinocchio were a real boy.”

Well, it just goes to show that it’s worth making wishes. Cuz you never know when one will be overheard. That night, someone was listening to this nice old man and decided to grant his wish. And the next morning, when Geppetto came down to open his shop he said, “Good morning, Pinocchio.”

And Pinocchio said, “Good morning, sir.”

There was a sort of silence as Geppetto looked around at the puppet, who was smiling up at the old man. “Did you just talk?”

“I think so. Is this what talking sounds like? I wouldn’t know, I’ve never done it before.”

“Pinocchio! You’re alive! My wish came true! Now I have a son!”

“Yay! You have a son!...what is a son?”

“A son is somebody for the poppa to love. And that is who I am. I am your poppa, Pinocchio. And you are my son. So you must do as I tell you, okay?”

“Okay, Poppa.”

Well, all the rest of that day, Geppetto showed Pinocchio around the village and introduced him to everyone. And even though some people were initially freaked out at the sight of a puppet walking around, as soon as they got to know him, they came to like Pinocchio. And the common consensus of the town was that a miracle like this could not have happened to a nicer man than old Geppetto.

And, you know something? We could honestly stop right here if we wanted to. Geppetto is happy with his wooden son, Pinocchio is happy learning about the world from his poppa, everyone in the village is happy to see Geppetto and Pinocchio so happy. In fact, there’s so much happiness going around, it’s a little nauseating. So this could really be our happy ending if we wanted it to be…no? You want to go on? Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you.

Because the fact is, you don’t get a little wooden boy walking around and talking to people without word spreading. Soon the news of a wooden boy who was alive was the talk of the town. Beyond the town, even, the neighboring villages were talking about Pinocchio. So it wasn’t long before news reached that great puppet impressario, Stromboli, and he was very interested. “A puppet that can walk and talk without strings? People would come from miles around to see such a thing.”

So, Stromboli went to Geppetto’s house and asked to buy Pinocchio. Not surprisingly, he was refused, so he had to think of a sneakier plan. The very next day, Stromboli intercepted Pinocchio as the boy was going to school.

“Good morning, little boy!” Pinocchio turned and said good morning to the polite stranger, and was just about to continue on his way to school when Stromboli asked, “Where are you going, young man?”

“I’m on my way to school.”

“Ah! School. So you’re still wasting your time with that nonsense, I see.”

“Nonsense? Poppa says everyone has to go to school to get smart and learn things and make lots of friends.”

“Well,” said Stromboli, with a sinister smile, “I suppose that’s one way to do it. But I think you might be better suited for show biz.”

“Show biz? What’s show biz?” asked Pinocchio.

“The theatre, my boy! The stage! Performing! Singing and dancing! You could be a big star. I can tell you have a lot of talent.”

“Well, couldn’t I go to school and then be a big star?”

“Er…well, normally, yes. But I am only holding auditions for the next hour. If you want to be in my big show, you’d better hurry. Come along, son.”

“But, I don’t want to be late for—”

“Do you want to be a star or not?”

“I guess so, but—” Poor Pinocchio was dragged away to the theatre.


Of course, Pinocchio passed the “audition” with no problem. And that night he made his debut on the stage of Stromboli’s puppet show. As predicted, he was a big hit. He sang and danced a little, but mostly people just wanted to see a block of wood that walked and talked. As a novelty he was a smash. And people applauded and strated throwing money up on stage…and Pinocchio liked it. He thought this was a lot of fun. Maybe the theatre was better than going to school.

But then the show was over and Pinocchio, his pockets full of the gold coins he had picked up from the stage, started for home to tell Geppetto all about his adventure. Just then, Stromboli grabbed him roughly and said, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going home. I’ll be back tomorrow for the matinee, though.”

“Oh, no you don’t! You belong to me now! You’re going in my trunk with the other puppets. I’ll let you out to perform, but then back you go. And I’ll take that gold you stole from the stage, too!”

“No! No I won’t go in any trunk.” And he started kicking Stromboli as hard as he could. Finally, Stromboli lost his grip on Pinocchio’s arm and he ran home to Geppetto.

“What time do you think it is?” shouted Geppetto, when Pinocchio ran through the front door. “Your teacher tells me you weren’t in school today. I haven’t heard from you, I was worried sick. What have you got to say for yourself?”

Well, Pinocchio had never been in trouble before, and so he decided to do what every little child in the world does when there parents ask them why they came home so late: He lied.

“I was on my way to school when this mean old fox jumped out at me and threw me in a big sack!” As he said this, he felt a sort of tingle on his face, but thought nothing of it. “Then he dragged me all the way to the pier and put me on a steamer going to China!” Now he could really feel his nose tingling. “And when I got there a terrible dragon tried to use me as firewood but then I slew the dragon and…and…what happened to my nose!?” Sure enough, with each new lie, Pinocchio’s nose had grown. Now it was over a foot long.

“You see, my son,” said Geppetto. “A lie can start small, but then it keeps growing and growing. And before you know it, it’s as plain as the nose on your face.”

Pinocchio told Geppetto the truth and as he did so, his nose shrunk back to its usual size. Geppetto was angry with Pinocchio, but when Pinocchio apologized and told him about how mean Stromboli had been, Geppetto knew that he had been punished enough. And, on top of everything else, Pinocchio gave his father the six gold coins he had taken from the stage, which made Geppetto very happy because six gold coins was a lot for a man like Geppetto with a family to take care of.


So the next morning, Pinocchio once again set off for school. Wanting to avoid another run-in with Stromboli,, he took an alternate route to school…unfortunately, being only a week old, he had not yet learned how to navigate his hometown, and he soon got lost. He saw a big crowd of boys and thought they must be going to school, so he followed them. Soon, however, he found himself being loaded with the other boys onto a coach. He tried to explain that he was in the wrong place, but no one listened. The next thing he knew, he was being whisked away in the coach to somewhere unknown. He asked the boy sitting next to him where they were going.

“You don’t know?” said the boy. “We’re going to Pleasure Island!”

“Pleasure Island? We haven’t gotten that far in geography class. What’s Pleasure Island?”

“It’s a great place! There’s rides and games and junkfood and toys and no grownups! No teachers, no cops, no parents! We can do whatever we want! It’s nothing but fun!”

The coach drove right onto a ferry, which sailed out into the sea until it came to a big island, surrounded by a stone wall. The gates were opened and the kids were all ushered inside. Well, Pinocchio knew that he was supposed to be in school…but he thought he could always have a little fun at Pleasure Island before coming home…

But a little fun turned into a lot of fun. And not nice fun, either. Breaking things, eating candy, stomping in the mud, fighting, drinking, gambling. Pinocchio didn’t realize it, but Pleasure Island was a place for bad little boys! Stupid little boys who play hooky from school and tear the heads off their sisters’ dolls. Boys who think it's cool to be stupid and mean and do whatever they want all the time. And poor, naïve Pinocchio had no idea what the consequences of his “day of fun” would be.

As soon as it started getting dark, Pinocchio realized he was in trouble again and had to go home to Geppetto right away and take his punishment. But the men who seemed to be in charge of the place wouldn’t let Pinocchio leave. They said there were no boats going back to the mainland and Pinocchio would have to stay. Then he figured out why. You see, if you let a bad little boy just be as bad as he wants with no punishment or boundaries, sooner or later, he makes a jackass out of himself. On Pleasure Island, that was literally true! All around him, all the boys were turning into donkeys! Soon none of them could talk except for loud braying sounds. Pinocchio knew that if he stayed much longer, he’d turn into a donkey too! So he climbed the walls and dove into the sea where, being made of wood, he floated.

Unfortunately, Pinocchio didn’t know how to swim. So all he could do was float. He didn’t know which way his home was, so he just floated in the sea. For three days he floated out to sea. Occassionally, a seagull would land on him and peck at his wooden body for bugs. But when it found none, it flew away. Poor Pinocchio thought he’d be driftwood for the rest of his life…until the day when he saw a large shape moving under the water. It seemed to be circling him. And before he knew what had happened, a giant whale had come up to the surface, opened his enormous mouth and swallowed Pinocchio whole!

Pinocchio was trapped in the belly of a whale! Now he knew he’d never get home to his father. He felt terrible about goofing off at Pleasure Island instead of going to school. He wished he had never gone to Stromboli’s show. He made a vow right then and there to always be good and do as his poppa told him. But wouldn’t you know it? He wasn’t the only one inside the whale.

“Pinocchio?”

“Poppa!” Yes, when Pinocchio had gotten lost again, Geppetto had gone out in search of him. He had asked around and someone said he saw a wooden boy in a carriage which then went out to sea, so he rented a boat and went out to find him. But the whale found him first and swallowed the whole boat, and it was on the deck of this boat that Geppetto and Pinocchio embraced one another, happy to be reunited. Pinocchio told his father the truth about everything that had happened and said he was very sorry.

“It’s all right, Pinocchio,” said Geppetto. “Everythig’s going to be all right. Although I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this whale. You see, the only way out is the mouth, and he only opens it to eat. Then fish, water, and everything else rushes in, but nothing can get out.”

“Well,” said Pinocchio, thinking quickly. “What if the whale sneezed?”

“Sneezed? Well, yes, that might work. But how can we make him sneeze?”

“We’ll light a fire, Poppa! Lots of smoke inside his mouth. He’ll sneeze for sure.”

It was a brilliant plan! They started to work at once. They tore pieces off the boat until it was little more than a raft. Then they lit the extra wood on fire and fanned it to make lots of thick, black smoke. The smoke filled up the inside of the whale and, just as Pinocchio had said, it made the monster sneeze. With a mighty, aquatic “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH-CHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” the tiny raft went flying out of the whale’s mouth and into the open ocean, and the ever-polite Pinocchio just managed to shout a very big "Bless you!" as he and his father went flying past the whale's lips.

But their troubles weren’t over. The raft was too small and damaged from the sneeze. They were sinking. “Hold onto me, Poppa!” shouted Pinocchio and clasped his father’s hands around his middle. Now Geppetto could use Pinocchio as a life presever and stay afloat. Geppetto told Pinocchio to kick with his legs and stroke with his arms and the little wooden boy swam for shore. He swam for all he was worth. He swam until he felt he would pass out and he kept on swimming. He refused to let Geppetto down, not after having come so far. And soon, they made it to the shore…but the swim had been too much for Pinocchio. Geppetto looked at his son and saw that the boy wasn’t moving. He was lying perfectly still, with his eyes closed. Nothing Geppetto could do would revive him.

Pinocchio was dead.

With a heavy heart, Geppetto took his lifeless son home and lay him on his bed. Then, unable to control himself any longer, he fell to his knees and wept openly. He had been given a son. A magical, unique, miraculous son. And now he had been taken away from him. He had died saving his father’s life. And, apparently, whoever had been listening the last time Geppetto made a wish had been paying attention all this time and thought that a selfless act like that deserved a reward.

“Poppa? What’s wrong?”

Geppetto lookd up expecting to see his wooden son revived. But instead he saw something even more shocking. A human child was sitting on the bed, smiling up at Geppetto just as the puppet had done when he had first come to life. And the more Geppetto looked at this little boy the more clear it became: It was Pinocchio! He had turned into a real boy!


Okay, now this is definitely our happy ending, right? Geppetto is happy, Pinocchio is alive and a real boy, and as news of the story spread, Stromboli was run out of business, Pleasure Island was shut down and, as for that whale, I don't know for certain, but I'm pretty sure he's on display at the Smithsonian or something. Geppetto became the most famous woodcarver in the world. He became a great success and he and Pinochio wanted for nothing as long as they lived. And, when he got older, Pinocchio did go back into show business as a legitimate actor and did all right…although, there were some that said his portrayal of Hamlet was a little, er…wooden?

Yeah, sorry about that. The point is, they all lived happily ever after.

THE END

If You Liked My Story, You Might Enjoy:
  • Pinocchio (1940) Though not particularly successful in its initial theatricla run, most film critics call this the most technically perfect Disney film of the early years of the studio. Gave us Jiminy (who , as I said, has become an indispensible part of the story) and the unofficial “Disney theme song,” in “When You Wish Upon a Star.” Interestingly, Mel Blanc recorded all the dialogue for the cat, Gideon, but when they decided the character should be silent, all they kept of his vocal track was a single hiccup. That hiccup marks the only time Blanc ever recorded a voice for a Disney cartoon.
  • Pinocchio (TV)(1972) This musical production stars Sandy Duncan as Pinocchio and Danny Kaye as Geppetto. Also features Flip Wilson as the fox who leads him astray. I stole the “son is somebody for the poppa to love” line from this production as it just struck me as such a sweet moment.
  • “Faerie Tale Theatre” (TV) Paul “Pee-Wee Herman” Rubens plays the wooden boy in this episode which also features James Coburn, Carl Reiner, Michael Richards and James Belushi
  • Geppetto (TV)(2000) A novel re-telling of the story through the woodcutter’s eyes. Drew Carey, Brent Spiner, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Renee Auberjonois and Usher star, with original songs by Stephen Schwartz (“Wicked,” “Pippin,” “The Prince of Egypt”)
NEXT WEEK: "Snow White and Rose Red"