Hans and Greta
Hans stared out from the rocky outcrop, across the expansive forest below.
"That, Greta, is our destiny."
She lifted her tinted glasses to get a better look at the cottage in the distance. It seemed surrounded by its own shadow, despite the candy exterior. She saw a flash, and the witch's silhouette cackled in a window.
"Let's ride," she said, and smiled a toothy grin.
Delilah the Evil Witch of the South pulled the oven door open, and retrieved a batch of springy cupcakes. She had just got all her icing kit ready when the doorbell rang.
"Hello, you two!" she said, beaming at the twins, both dressed in black. The door buckled and fell of its hinges.
"Oh dear," Delilah sighed, "Dolly mix has to be the worst type of hinge I've ever tried. I'll see if Wine Gums work better later."
She beckoned them in and propped the door loosely in place.
Hans wiped a finger across a photo hung on the wall, smearing it, and licked the icing he had removed.
Greta looked over her glasses at the Evil Witch.
"I've just made some cupcakes in the kitchen, if you want," said Delilah.
Greta slinkily pushed her glasses back up her nose.
When they had all taken precisely one bite from the cupcakes, Hans cried, "Why are these not iced?!"
"I only just got them out, dear."
"Silence!" said Greta, then pulled out a pistol and shot the Evil Witch four times.
Hans wiped the blood spray off his suit, as the old bag sunk to the floor.
"Get her in the oven!" cried Greta, and together they rammed her into its roomy insides... Suspiciously roomy.
Hans turned the dial up to 200 degrees.
"Good job," said Greta.
Hans smirked. "You could call it... a job well done," and they both burst into raucous laughter, ignoring the agonised whimpering sounds.
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It's a rewrite of Hansel & Gretel, yo. Written late 2010. |
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