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extract of poetry book: subverted fairytales

by charli 

Posted: 14 May 2006
Word Count: 1265

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The Big Bad Wolf V Bobbie Joe

Once upon a… Wednesday morning,
as the snow went crunch,
continuously falling.
Bobbie Joe a beatnik scruff
putting on her tattered gloves
prepared to fight, fight, fight,
the meanest, biggest, badest of them all.

In the red corner,
the one, the only,
Big bad wolf.
(audience jeers)
Dressed in a red cape, what a fright,
with handbag, lipstick and the latest cell
definitely not a pretty sight.

In the blue stood Bobbie Joe.
(audience applause)
Not believing that the biggest foe,
could be so girly,
More interested in painting his toes,
not the type that will houses blow.

Round 1
Went off without a bang
a gang of three pigs cheering
Bobbie Joe on,
against the leers
of the wolf.
“What rubbish aim you have”,
Bobbie Joe Jeered,
ducking from the Wolf’s mindless punch.

“All the better to…”
The wolf fell,
slipping in his stiletto shoes.
Bobbie Joe pounced
as the wolf flounced
and lay floored.

Standing proud and tall,
she yelled
“let that be a lesson to you fool,
you don’t go steeling Bo Peep’s,
designer knit-wear
made from the softest sheep.
Give the three pigs back
their china plate stack.
Most of all, get some counselling,
you’re a wolf, not a mouse,
and cross-dressing really isn’t your thing ”

The big bad wolf,
K. O‘d, pride stung,
vowed to give up cheap scams,
to be a better villain,
convince his fans.

Thus our tale has quickly ended,
the shortest boxing match in history…

A day later,
the wolf lay, leg mending
in hospital, whilst quietly
A mumbled thought escapes his lips…

“It really is not much fun,
when from me everyone runs,
I was the only gay in the village,
but that Marion and Bobbie Joe,
Are more gender bended than even I am,
bet they do it all for show.
What is a poor wolf like me to do…”

Interrupted in his self-pitying state,
the littlest of the three piggies
arriving quite late, has
come to pay the wolf a visit,
and is about to meet his fate…

As grinning with a sinister gleam in his eye,
the wolf mummers
“little piggy you are about to die.”

‘I’ll hump ya and I’ll dump ya and I’ll blow your house down.
I’ll slice into your cake before I leave town.
Pick a number - take a seat, with the disease of conceit’
Bobbie Joe to this was humming,
on her guitar gently strumming.

“Something’s not quite right with that wolf,
his eyes beheld a dreadful force
I wish my sweet Marion dear,
was near, for I Fear
the sky is turning queer.

The wolf, licking the salt from his lips,
from a meal that would go
“straight to the hips”
Right in the deepest, darkest heart of the woods.
He came to a sudden jolt.

As there before him Marion stood,
not looking as a good boy should.
Eyes aflame and wide,
in fishnet tights, coupled with
pvc and misogyny.
“I heard you lost the fight,
too bad I like a rough tough type”

Eyes interlocked, they spied
themselves, in the reflection
of the eyes of the other.
A shudder run down the wolf’s spine,
as he realised this man, his equal,
to him was most divine.

I hear you, reader cry “What happens next“?
Your thinking they are about to have…
But alas for us the tale has ended,
for Marion does not like to reveal all.
He has a reputation to uphold,
a subtly which must not to be too bold.

What is it that separates man from animal?
Is it that one learns to channel,
the basic lusts, that breeds base desires.
Or is it that one is better composed,
to hide his feelings from public show.

Thus the moral is would seem,
is nothing is what it should have been.
Metamorphosis can change,
anyone into something so much more than strange.
The woods are for those that hide,
twisted secrets, mans demise.

Author’s Notes

In stanza 7, line 2, ‘K.O’d’ refers to a boxing term, which means to be knocked out.

Stanza 10, line 3, ‘The only gay in the village’, is a reference and quote spoken by Daffyd in the BBC 2005 hit comedy show Little Britain, by Matt Lucas and David Williams.

Lastly, stanza 13, lines 1-3 are lyrics from Bob Dylan; The Chronicles, volume one; page 171. The Ogre plus three

Marion Sat down to tea;
but no Alice
white rabbit
or Hatter could he see.

Instead, sat Jack sprat,
An ogre, and a witch
(who had a nervous twitch)
Such a merry tea-party this would be
If they could all sit down for tea.

Jack Sprat
With a mouthful of scone,
Looking quite lost and forlorn,
Lamented how his former wife
Deprived him of cake.
“Which she herself ate and ate.
Until one day she went for a swim,
Confused as a beached whale
She was harpooned by Long beard,
Here ends my tale”
Sprat declared,
free from a wife he long feared.

“I am an alcho….oh” The Ogre slurred

Grabbing the tea-pot Marion looked shocked
“Just what’s in this tea
Let me see… Why its whisky
O deary me”

After a long pause Marion cried, all smile and pride
“isn’t this fun!!!”
The rest just looked rather glum.

“It’s not fun being the wicked one“,
The Ogre cried,
“That Jack why he should be tried,
Breaking and entering!
Not to mention stealing,
Whilst I get smacked
With a dirty rotten axe.
Why is it the bad children get away
Whilst its us that have to pay?”

The witch piped up “too true,
I let that Hansel use my loo,
The next minute, him and that strumpet
Had demolished all my food
Down to the last crumpet.
Then they told all,
That I was going to eat them,
As if I would…
all I wanted to do was be in bed by ten.
To make matters worse
they nearly burnt me alive in my oven.
Now all I get is abuse flung at me by the dozen ”

Rants ensured,
Over whiskey and who sued who.
Shaking fists coupled with who did this.

Until Marion announced the party was over,
Snatching up the hot cross buns and clover.
They should get lives or at least pretend
To show some gratitude for him being a friend.
Infused with dramatic Nancy-boy tendencies,
Over the top and not to be outdone
By the tales previously spun.
He leaped upon the table,
Demanding attention with his daring demeanour,
With an icy cool voice,
(more cool that chewing gum)
He spoke loud and crisp
“ If you don’t want to be part of some fable,
“The solution is simple
kill the conniving culprits,
make amends with their end.”


The mystic purple stoat and his chemical pink balloon present: Fairy ales: magical metamorphosis. A collection of twisted fairytales, short stories, plays and poems for all over 16 to enjoy. Why should fairytales be now just for kids? Why should the good guy always win? What if it wasn’t Cinderella that had lost the slipper? Forget what you think you know about fairytales. This volume subverts and converts all traditional elements.
Introducing the adventures of Marion (an effeminate boy) and Bobbie Joe (a tomboy) one is taken into a world without gender boundaries, where anything can happen! Including: vegetarian wolves, and disco balls. Where nothing is as it should be, a comic adult take on the fable. So stop deliberating over what the contents may hold, get on with the reading!

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