Hansel and Gretel and the Tree of Death!

 

 

            Hansel and Gretel, white suburbanite spawn, arrived home one day after another night of bar hopping and den gazing. They arrived home well after the sun had come up to find the locks on the door changed. Their parents had even bothered to change the doorknob color.

            “What the hell?” said Hansel.

            “A green doorknob?” Gretel laughed.

            The two are not surprised at all. Their parents have been trying to throw them out of the house since they were in their early twenties. Hansel and Gretel had been best friends their whole lives and did everything together – even drop out of school and do the drug thing. When Mother and Father locked them out the first time, it was so the two would find a job somewhere. The two of them did, at a record store, but quit the first week. With the money from their first paychecks, the two decided to buy guitars and start a band. They spent weeks thinking of band names and convincing their parents that they were going to be big rock stars. They eventually settled on “Hanzel Und Gretyl” because they thought making their already German names even more German would be ultra hardcore. They even added umlauts and Hansel thought it would be cool to add another “a.”  Häanzël Ünd Grëtyl -- hardcoredeathmetaldoom band of DEATH! Famous rock stars. Impressed a lot of their friends, not much their parents.

Eventually, that dream (as most of their trippy dreams) fell through since by the time the two actually got around to playing, they realized they had absolutely no talent whatsoever. Their talent lay in pot smoking and bier trinken.

            “Try the window!” said Hansel.

            Oh, the two knew already the window was locked. This happened all the time. When Hansel says “try the window” (or, “try” anything for that matter) he means beat the living shit out of it. Gretel opted for a baseball bat from the neighbor’s kid since punching it resulted in far too much blood loss last time.

            Hansel helped Gretel inside and made sure she didn’t cut herself on any of the glass. The two grabbed fistfuls of candy and pastries as they passed through the kitchen (for the munchies later). The two did not even bother taking off their jackets as they made their way down to the den, to the couch, to the TV, to the pot.

            Mother and Father heard the window break and knew exactly what had happened. They knew it wasn’t burglars, only their two kids (who did burglarize the neighborhood). Their two pot smoking, stupid, dropout kids who were in their late twenties and still here. Their two useless, thieving, lying, ambiguously incestuous,      Satan-worshipping (probably), totally-going-to-be-butchered…

            Mother and Father rush out of the room still in their nightgowns. Mother surveyed the damage while Father picked up the neighbor’s baseball bat. Mother, after surveying the damage, concluded the damage to be worth exactly one rolling pin to the head. Mother followed Father downstairs into the den.

            Hansel and Gretel were passing “the shit” -- The shit meaning the blurple and coral (as in the color), kind of gay-looking bong. Mother and Father stormed down the stairs and already knew what they were going to say, which shouldn’t surprise really anyone.

            “I’m going to KILL you stupid fucks if you don’t get out RIGHT NOW,” Father yelled.

            Hansel and Gretel laughed – not only laughed, but pointed and laughed, too. Hansel almost tipped the bong.

            “Holy shit! The weed!” Gretel shrieked.

            Mutti was a Frau of few words. She believed that talking is best done in rolling-pin fashion. Oh, domestic irony. Mutti beat those two with that pin until they ran upstairs. When they heard their parents rushing up, they ran towards the door.

            “Unlock it!” yelled Hansel.

            “What the hell? How do you unlock this?” yelled Gretel. That’s right, new (strange) locks and door knobs.

            “Fuck it! The window!” yelled back Hansel.

            The two darted over to the window and knocked over a bowl of brightly colored fruit and a jar of pickles. The pickle juice (and the pickles) soaked the floor and made it slippery and shiny. At the sight of the pickles, the parents yelled anew which made their children panic quicker out the window.

            Once outside, Hansel and Gretel ran about ten feet, until they got to their neighbor’s lawn. They stopped to discuss their next plan of action.

            “Damn it! What are we going to do?” asked Gretel.

            “Damn…”

            “No Hansel,” she said, “What are we going to do? None of this “damn” shit.”

            “Yea, OK.” He then added, “Should we go to Sarah’s house?”

            Gretel scowled at him.

            “Well, I don’t see you making any suggestions!” he shouted.

            Father stepped out of the door and tied a clattering garbage bag filled with glass. He saw them at the end of the drive way and dropped the bag.

            “Go AWAY. Why are you two still here?” he yelled at them as he walked to the dumpster.

            Hansel and Gretel resumed their conversation. “OK fine. Sarah’s. Did you bring money?” said Gretel.

            “Did it look like I brought money?” he asked pointedly.

            “Oh right, the whole homicide thing. Well, I’ll go inside and ask Mom for some cash and well be on our way, OK?” she said.

            As Gretel started walking towards the house, Father returned from the dumpster, this time with a rusty pitchfork.    

            Oh… that’s right. The whole kicked out of the house thing.

            Hansel and Gretel ran down the block, not stopping until they got to brightly colored house. Sarah’s family had a thing for collecting strange junk they deemed vintage enough to uglify their house. Odd ornaments like flamingoes waltzing with elves and huge cartoonish bees and flowers having a tea party on a tea table much too small littered the front lawn. They always wondered what it must have felt like to have the neighborhood crazy junk lady be your mother. Well, no, not really. They didn’t think much of anything.

            Hansel knocked on the door and ignored the flamboyant bull with a ring through his nose the door knocker. Sarah’s mother answered the door.

            “Oh! Hello Hansel!” She also gave him a hug. “Who’s this?”

            “It’s Gretel, my sister. She comes with me every time. Is Sarah home?” Hansel said rigidly.

            “Oh Hansel, you don’t need to ask Sarah if you can spend a few days here. She has to ask me anyway,” Mother laughed. She found this very funny.

            “Can we?” asked Gretel.

            Mother stopped laughing and looked at her. “Yeah. I think I can arrange something for you.” The sudden change in her voice from jovial to sinister made Hansel laugh.

            “Oh, when you laugh it makes me so happy!” Mother was instantly warmed. She then added one more statement to make the favoritism absolutely clear, “Hansel, there’s some dinner on the table that you can have. When you are finished, you can give the leftovers to the other one.”

            “Uh, no. She’s eating with me.”

            “Yeah, fuck you,” Gretel chimed in.

            Not that it really mattered anyway. Mother had already made up her opinion on Gretel (and it had nothing to do with the swearing). In addition to being the crazy neighborhood junk collector, Sarah’s mother also had made a hobby (or habit) of cooking small children and feeding them to her daughter. She had tried the sewing circle thing before, but decided cannibalism was more her taste. Gretel’s fate was not very original, though she (like the others) was going to be boiled alive in a humorously large cauldron in the den. At least she left in style—ha! No, just kidding.

             So that’s what happened to Gretel. After a few days, Mother invited Gretel downstairs into the den, alone. They wrestled for a moment and Gretel tripped into the boiling cauldron. She emitted one shriek, like a lobster going into the pot, conveniently went into shock, and thusly boiled quietly. Gretel kept floating up to the surface so Mother used a stick to poke her a little. She did this not really for any particular reason, just because it was kind of fun to see Gretel bob up and down like a synchronized swimmer. Or, should we say “simmer” – no that was lame.

              While Gretel boiled, her sweet scent (It’s the sucrose.) drifted upstairs to welcome Sarah home from school. Sarah breathed in Gretel and skipped to the kitchen. She had expected to see her mother cooking a stew (she had a thing for stews, her mother) but instead saw Hansel at the table, alone.

            “Where’s Mother?” she piped.

            “Where’s Gretel?” he asked.

            “God, Hans, you don’t have to be such an asshole. She’s probably in the den.”  Of course Sarah knew where her Mother was. She knows better than anyone in this house, boiled or not. She only asked Hansel to stick it to him. She stuck it to him good.  

            “So, go look,” he said, completely disinterested.

            Sarah skipped over to the door downstairs and found it locked. She almost  clapped her hands in excitement – that means that Mother was cooking the special stew. When Mother cooked her special stew, it always had funny ironic names like “Next Door Billy” or “Red Tricycle Kid” but it always tasted the same – sweet and frothy like soda pop, only it left a slimy film on your lips for some reason. The fat, probably. The fact of the matter is that Sarah found it delicious -- though this might have to do with genetics. Modern science has indicated that the Cannibalism Gene, like the Evil Gene, is passed down from the Mother’s side. Because drawing squares (specifically Punnett squares) is fun, it is clear that Sarah would inherit this trait and therefore enjoy the taste of cooked flesh. Human flesh, that is – though perhaps it might taste good enough for everyone to enjoy.

            That hypothesis was tested at dinner that night. Mother and daughter seemed to thoroughly enjoy the stew. Hansel could not bring himself to take another sip of it, for some reason.

            “Don’t you like it, Hansel? I made the Metalhead soup just for you,” Mother said, looking hurt.

            Sarah threw a gigglefit. “Teehee teehee! Metalhead soup! Mother your names are great!”

            “Yes, dear.”

            “Yea, I don’t think I can eat this. I think I’m going to put it in the fridge for Gretel, when she comes back,” Hansel solemnly put the bowl away.

            “Oh, Hansel, it breaks my heart when you are upset. That stupid girl will come back, don’t worry. She’s probably whoring herself around tonight. Go take out the garbage-- that will cheer you up,” Mother said as she blew on her spoonful.

            Hansel rolled his eyes, grabbed the bag of bones, and headed to the door. He opened the door and, without stepping outside, threw the bag as far as he could in the general vicinity of the garbage can. It landed at the root of a gothy-looking tree that was blacker than the blackest black of darkness and contained the doom and dark and dooming sorrow of death, et cetera.

             From the garbage bag of bones spawned the undead bird of Gretel. She pecked through the garbage bag and flew out. Now, since this bird was undead and wrought from the gothy tree of misfortune, this bird is especially hard core. Her song was not like any of the preppy birds that went “tweet tweet, I’m a conformist, tweet!” Oh, no. Her song was straight from her boiled and digested soul.

 

            “My “Mother” killed me!
            And consumed my flesh!

            My bones are buried, buried!

            My soul is buried under a tree!”

 

            And as she sung this, she was unable to get the sympathy of anyone. Confused looks, perhaps, no sympathy though. No man, woman, or child would give the undead bird anything, no gold, no shoes, not even a giant boulder to kill anyone with.

            Since no one would help the little bird, she decided to summon her undead powers and lift a giant stone by herself. Gretel carried the stone back to the house, her intent being to kill Sarah’s mother since she was still upset about the whole cannibalism thing. Killing people isn’t something new to Gretel. She had listened to enough death metal to know all about it. She flew to the house and sang:

           

“My “Mother” killed me!
            And consumed my flesh!

            My bones are buried, buried!

            My soul is buried under a tree!”

 

            Hansel, Sarah and Mother were eating dinner again (a vegetarian dish, ironically) when they heard the racket.

            “Ugh! What is that! Mother, make Hansel go see what it is,” Sarah squealed.

            “Hansel, dearest, go see what that is outside.”

            Hansel rolled his eyes and went to the door. He opened the door and without going outside, stuck his head outside the doorway.

            “It’s nothing!” he shouted.

            Gretel piped up, “Hansel! It’s me! I’m a bird now!”

            Hansel looked around, “Hello? Gretel, is that you?”

            “Yes! I am a bird!” she said.

            He looked up and saw her flying above him with a giant boulder.

            “How did that happen?” he asked.

            “Didn’t you hear my song?”

            “Song?” he asked.

           

“My “Mother” killed me!
            And consumed my flesh!

            My bones are buried, buried!

            My soul is buried under a tree!”

 

            “Oh, I see. That’s a cool song. You want to start up the band again?” Hansel said.

            “Hell yea!” she said. “But first thing’s first -- can you get that old bitch to come out so I can drop this on her? You see, I kind of want to kill her, after boiling me and all that. You know how it is.”

            “I do,” he said as he went inside.

            “So what was it?” asked Mother when he returned.

            Because Hansel couldn’t think of an enticing story to lure Mother out, he was blunt. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe you should check it out.”

            Mother had a better idea. “Sarah, why don’t you see what is going on outside. Hansel will help me take the cake out of the oven.”

            “But mom!” complained Sarah.

            “Just go, don’t argue with me,” Mother said.

            Sarah went outside and looked around. She did not get to look around that much because a boulder fell on her head, instantly killing her in a splattering of special effects –kind of. Gretel was disappointed to find out she killed Sarah and not her mother – but not too much since she didn’t like Sarah either. Plus, she was ugly.

            Meanwhile, Hansel also had an idea. As Mother was reaching into the oven, he thought a most ironic death would be if she was cooked herself – much more fitting than getting clunked by a rock.

He kicked her inside the oven to join the cake. Her face hit the cake and he made a comedy of her face being covered with frosting by slamming the oven door shut. It took several tries since her legs were in the way, but a couple kicks did the trick.  He held the door shut with his knee and turned the dial to broil since only wussies baked.  The bitch crackled like an ant under a magnifying glass and smelled like irony and burning sugar. Yeah man, she was partying with Satan in hell. Damn straight. Die, bitch, die. Burn, bitch, burn. Et cetera.

When the screams stopped, Hansel turned off the oven -- since it was a fire hazard leaving it on. He went outside to his sister to tell her the good news.

“Hansel, you weren’t supposed to bring Sarah,” she said.

“You killed Sarah?” he asked.

“I did. Can you bring out her Mother now?”

“Oh, I already killed her. You will be proud to know I cooked her in the oven just now.” He smiled.

“Wow, awesome,” she said as she landed on his shoulder.

“You don’t sound so thrilled.”

“I guess I’m going to be a bird forever, is all. You don’t think I’m going to change back?” she asked.

“Damn, I’m sorry, Gretel. What do you want to do now, should we go back home?” Hansel picked up the bird off his shoulder and held her.

“No, I don’t think so. I’ve had enough of parents. Why don’t we just live in that house? Sarah’s house?”

Although neither of them enjoyed ridding the property of the bodies, the two decided to stay. The two trashed the house good to remove any memory of Sarah and Mother. Eventually they forgot, though the drugs may have had something to do with it. They even stopped noticing the saccharine smell of cooked flesh from the years before. So, bird and boy rocked on happily ever after. Damn straight.

 

 

ANALYSIS

 

“Hansel and Gretel” and “The Juniper Tree” I took to be a comment on the relationship between parents and children. The cruelty of parents, that is. I thought about the motives behind the parents in the two fairy tales. In “Hansel,” it was based on need. They couldn’t afford to keep the kids. In “Juniper,” the step-mother just didn’t like the kid. I kept the reasoning pretty much the same. Also, the strong loyalty between the siblings I thought was worth noting. I will go into that later.

 

Plot Structure: The beginning starts out with “Hansel and Gretel.” Once the twins are kicked out and move in with Sarah, the tale turns into “The Juniper Tree.” At the end, it is a mix between the two tales, when all the opposition dies…the oven and the stone. The ending is my own because I feel the true happy ending is the two of them living without any kind of parental eye. This relates to what the True Loving Relationship between the twins, which I will go into detail later.

 

Narrator/Tone: I suppose I should start out with the narrator since he is prominent enough to be almost another character. The narrator is relatively neutral (occasionally siding with Hansel and Gretel). His main purpose is to lighten an otherwise gruesome story. The voice is similar to someone of Hansel and Gretel’s age group (someone familiar with the metalhead culture) and the reasoning for this is due to Propp’s idea that fairy tales represent the current culture. So, the narrator is just as important as the story since he adds changes that update the traditional story. Propp says this better than I do when he writes, “everything that is out-of-date and incongruous with new attitudes, tastes, and ideology will be discarded” (380). So, our metal head narrator is talking about today. By the way, I am not sure why in the tales we read the narrator doesn’t have a larger influence.

 

During the Hansel and Gretel plot line, the tone is still light but not ridiculous. This is because getting kicked out of your house by your parents is very real. The tone shifts to the ridiculous at about when “The Juniper Tree” takes over the “Hansel and Gretel” plot line because the events in that story probably won’t happen. “The Juniper Tree” is an exaggeration of “Hansel and Gretel” since it takes the hatred the parent has for the children to the level of homicide. For example, the step-mother boiling the child is not much different than the mother who casts the child out. The rebirth of the bird is similar to the defiance (or pushing the witch into the oven) of the “Hansel and Gretel” plot line. What the narrator does with the Juniper exaggeration of “Hansel and Gretel” is make light of their abandonment situation. He makes the Mother and Sarah seem ridiculous in the parading descriptions of boiling and feasting. The narrator sympathizes with the twins in his anti-authority/oppression attitude.

 

So, in conclusion, the narrator influences tone directly. There is a slight tone shift during the “Juniper Tree” which lightens the reality shown in “Hansel and Gretel” of being thrown out of the house.  The narrator is also knowledgeable about the metalhead/hardcore/goth subcultures, which explains all the references. So, in more ways than one, he relates to the twins.

 

The True Loving Relationship: Is between the twins, Hansel and Gretel. These two tales negatively portray family relationships. In the original, the father ends up being a good parent with the removal of the wicked (step)mother. I had a problem with that. If I was either of those kids, I wouldn’t forgive the father who was unable to stick up for me. Most likely, I would think he was in on the plan too. Therefore, I don’t think it is a happy ending to return to the parent who mistreated or neglected you. That is why the twins did not return.

 

I made the relationship between the twins the only pure relationship. Their parents neglected them, Sarah was the bratty step-sister, and the step-mother figure fawned over Hansel yet fed him his own sister, after killing her. Hansel never let the favoritism get to him and thought of his sister first and stood up for her. Gretel played an equal role in their adventures from breaking windows in the beginning to homicide at the end. The two never leave each other’s side. I wanted the loyalty between the two to be clear.

           

Motifs: I have kept the motifs that made the story true to the original – the stone at the end, the tree, the bird, etc. I comment on a few [two]:

Sugar/sweetness: Although the “step-mother’s” house isn’t made out of sugar, and there isn’t much consumption of sweets, sugar does appear often in this story. In the original, the motif is used as a metaphor for gluttony. Here, sugar is mostly used to describe the scent of the flesh. (Side note: I have a friend who has actually smelled a burnt body and has told me it smells sweet and most disgusting.) So, sweetness makes the twin’s situation saccharine and the violence even fouler. I tried to make Sarah be a little too sweet, personality wise (but still mean). Also, for Sarah, things are sugar coated since she doesn’t know she eats human flesh or any of her mother’s doings.

The Song: I thought having a bird sing in the original was really stupid, so I took this as an advantage to make fun of metal lyrics. Writing bad lyrics is easy. Also, the song did not have much effect on the passersby. Rightly so, I believe, because I don’t buy the fact strangers would gift to a bird because they liked its song.  Honestly, the original was pretty cool until the bird somehow seduces people to pay it.

 

Conclusion: Last time, for Little Red, my interpretation involved a double plot line to expose sexual innuendo. This time, the main idea behind the rewrite is the narrator’s role. It is the narrator’s comment on the eventual abandonment of children by their parents.  Specifically, the “Juniper Tree” half of the story being a hyperbolic (yet lighthearted) comment on the more realistic “Hansel” beginning. But most of all, it was supposed to be funny. I like to think I’m funny sometimes. Hopefully, I’ll be funny next time in fewer pages.