Fairy Tale Therapy

Geraldine sat with her elbow propped on the desk, forehead resting on her hand. She had just eaten the basket of goodies her granddaughter brought her for lunch. She was really going to have to talk to her daughter-in-law about letting the child go out by herself. She wasn't old enough to go tripping through the forest. It just wasn't safe.

She sighed. No use postponing the inevitable. She hated conducting the fairy tale families' group therapy sessions, but there was no one else qualified. These parents really needed help. Hitching up her sagging stockings, she made her way into the tiny dismal conference room located next to her tinier, more dismal office. She looked at the small circle of chairs. She chose the one facing the door and waited for her charges.

Hansel and Gretel's parents were the first to arrive. Eva was a small, nervous woman with a kerchief on her head. Hans Sr. was your standard woodcutter; big, brawny, and with one hell of a temper. These two upstanding models of parenthood had thrown their two small children out of the house, and left them loose in the woods. Luckily they had stopped at the first house they saw. That house belonged to one of her best foster parents—Hazel Johansson. She had cleaned them up, and fed them a good meal, and then called Geraldine.

She picked up the poor little things, and got them into an emergency placement. The correct authorities were contacted, and a judge forced the Cartright adults to take parenting classes. They took seats to the left of Geraldine, and stared at the floor.

The next to arrive was Rapunzel's mother. This woman was a total piece of work. She had kept the poor kid locked in a tower for God only knows how long. Rapunzel had never seen a dentist, or a doctor, let alone a barber. It had taken 7 hours to get all the lice off that child's head. Gerry shuddered slightly at the memory. Janna Goldkey was a short, bent, nubbly kind of woman. Sometimes Gerry wondered if she really was the mother of the beautiful girl. (And what was with that name?)

Janna hobbled over to a seat and threw herself down in it like a bag of sticks, staring at the same spot in the floor the other two were considering.

There was a huge disturbance out in the hall. Oh great, thought Gerry, her favorite problem parent was arriving. The guard came into sight, dragging a tall, dignified woman dressed in prison orange, by one arm. Her gray hair was scraped into a perfect bun, matched by the cold steel of her eyes. A sneer marred her haughty face as she was pushed down into the remaining chair.

Unconsciously, the others leaned away from her; her chill making them shiver. She stared at the others disdainfully. Beatrice Vanwolof was true evil. She had kept her stepdaughter Cinderella as a half-naked slave, and cut part of one of her other daughter's feet clean off. That didn't even begin to cover the cruelty and mental abuse she had perpetrated on all three of her children. Gerry didn't understand what good therapy would do. Beatrice was sentenced to life in prison for what she had done to those poor girls. Her evil just made the others look better, and a fine looking bunch, they surely were not.

She looked over her list to make sure they had everyone. Oh, right, she had forgotten to cross off Gepetto. He was their one dropout; he wasn't actually abusive, just worried at how much his son liked to "play" with dolls. No kidding he liked to "play" with dolls, the child used to be one. She had referred him to a behavioral specialist who was experienced with sexual practices of the newly human.

Geraldine decided she might as well get started. She cleared her throat and addressed the pungent and unsightly mob surrounding her. "Well, let's get started. Does anyone have anything they would like to share with the group?"

Silent, baleful eyes stared in her direction. The silence stretched out unbearably. Finally Geraldine got tired of waiting. She pinned Eva with her gaze. The kerchiefed woman's watery eyes skittered over to her lump of a husband—no solace there. Eva's squint briefly met Geraldine's clear gray eyes.

"Eva, how was your week? Did you do the assignment from last time?"

Eva stared hard at the floor, waiting for it to open up and swallow her. No such luck. She sighed, and dragged her gaze back up to Geraldine.

"No. We didn't do no stupid exercise," said Hans Sr., "And we ain't gonna. This is stupid. We wouldn't even be here if'n that judge didn't make us."

Geraldine bit her tongue and counted to 10, slowly. "Mr. Cartright. I understand you are not here voluntarily, but I still expect you to do the work. If you do not, you will not get your children back—ever."

"Look you dumb witch," said Hans Sr. "We threw them out in the woods. What makes you think we want them back?" Under his breath he muttered, "and we're the dumb hicks." He rolled his eyes.

Geraldine glared but his hair did not catch on fire no matter how hard she tried. She shifted her gaze to Eva, "you feel the same way?"

Eva swallowed hard, and looked at her muddy twisted shoes. "Um," her eyes twitched involuntarily at Hans. He nodded his ham-like head. "Yeah, they's better off." Eva absently rubbed her stomach for comfort. Geraldine silently reassessed her stance on court ordered sterilization.

"Ok," Geraldine tried again. "Did anyone do the assignment from last week? Anyone at all?"

Once again, hostile eyes stared back at her. Geraldine resisted the urge to bang her head on the floor. "Look, do any of you want your children back?" Geraldine's frustration resonated in her voice.

Total silence and then a loud snort. All eyes turned to Beatrice, the source of the snort. The corners of her lips curled into something resembling a smile, if said smile was on the face of a rabid wolverine.

"Of course I'd like my little darlings back. I haven't had a decent foot rub since I went to jail, and the floors are just filthy." The smile intensified, more teeth. "Why, little Cindy could have that cell in tip top condition in a snap, or she might never be able to sit down again." The smile became downright nightmarish; everyone had to look away. Beatrice's fingers lightly played with the collar of her orange jumpsuit, caressing it. It was just too disturbing. Clarity returned, and the steel eyes stabbed at Gerry.

"Why am I here among the great unwashed?" Beatrice said. "I wouldn't have let this group scrub my horse's ass, let along sit with me and have..." She glanced over Gerry's shoulder. "You've got to be kidding Geraldine. Is that really punch and cookies over there?" Beatrice threw back her head and laughed until a single tear dripped down her cheek. The viscous smile reseated itself on her smooth face. "Did that precious little morsel Red bring them for her Grammy? I'd like five minutes with that little minx, make her ass as red as her cape and then..." Beatrice's eyes became dreamy again, a wolf smile on her lips, as she pictured the torments she would visit, given the opportunity, on Gerry's granddaughter.

Geraldine's mouth tightened into a small o. Her chest felt tight. To hear that awful woman talk about Red like that. It was simply not to be borne. Gerry's clenched fists quivered in rage. Her face darkened red, and she seemed to grow as she lifted from her seat and stalked across the circle of chairs.

Beatrice's eyes focused on the social worker chugging like a steam engine toward her. She cocked an eyebrow and one corner of her mouth. "Hit a nerve Gerrrrry?"

The rest of the group gawped at them like a bunch of beached fish, except Hans Sr. He loved a good catfight. A grin began to blossom on his large moon face. His hand slid down and rubbed his crotch.

Gerry cocked back her fist, ready to land it square in Beatrice's nose. Beatrice's expression stopped it cold. She was actually smiling; the first real smile Gerry had ever seen on her face. It started to fade, when Beatrice realized that Gerry was not going to strike her.

So Beatrice kicked her hard in the stomach. Gerry dropped like the the prince's jaw when Cinderella entered the ball. Beatrice stood up slowly and placed her government-issue shoe on Gerry's neck. Slowly, she started to press. Geraldine scrabbled at her ankle, breaking her fingernails on the cheap sneakers. Her eyes started to bulge as her air supply was cut off; her heels tapped on the floor.

Beatrice smiled down at the sprawled social worker, noting how her foot sank into the flesh of her neck. She was pressing down, but not too hard. She wanted to enjoy the fear and helplessness being squeezed from Gerry's eyes. She could just start to feel the windpipe starting to give. This was going to be good.

The gawpers kept on gawping—no one even considered stopping the mad step-monster. Beatrice was too tough, and Gerry wasn't their favorite anyway. Besides, they all were enjoying the show.

Geraldine was nearly blacked out. Now who would warn Red about the forest, or evil, like Beatrice?

Franzel, the prison guard, had been waiting out in the hall until the session was over. By the time on his watch, it was nearly there. He stepped up and looked in the door. Oh hell! She was trying to kill the Social worker. That Beatrice was a pain in the ass. He flung the door open and launched himself at Beatrice, knocking her off the hapless social worker and into Hansel Sr.'s lap. Beatrice shrieked her anger at losing her prey, just when it had gotten fun. She was not overjoyed at being on this reeking cracker's lap either. She simply didn't swing that way, but she did swing at Hansel Sr.'s lantern jaw, and connected in a big way.

Hansel Sr. was pissed. First, his cousin, the high and mighty Franzel "I'm too good to be a woodcutter, I'm going to be a fancy schmancy prison guard" knocks this bitch into his lap, and now, she has the stones to knock him one in the jaw. Hansel Sr. bellowed like a bull moose as he leapt to his feet, dropping Beatrice onto the pair of bodies on the floor.

She landed squarely on top of Franzel, who grabbed her around the waist and squeezed. A sound like a cat with a hairball escaped from Beatrice's lips, as Franzel flipped her onto her stomach and pinned her to the floor. He addressed the gasping Geraldine from atop Beatrice's back. "Are you ok, lady?"

Geraldine's hand reached up to her swollen, blackening throat. She could actually feel the imprint of the sneaker sole in her flesh. "I think so," she croaked.

A slight huffing sound was coming from underneath Franzel. Leaving his entire weight on Beatrice, he leaned up slightly, and wrangled her wrists into a zip tie he yanked from his belt. With Beatrice safely subdued, Franzel left her in a heap on the floor.

He tossed everybody out of the room, and offered to get Geraldine an ambulance.

Gerry declined. She just wanted some ice water. She fought the urge to go over and kick Beatrice while she was helpless, and eventually won, though it was very close.

Franzel dragged the hissing Beatrice from the room and back to the transport.

Geraldine went back to her office, and leaned on the desk, massaging her throat. Thank goodness that was over for another week. She saw a shimmer of red lying on the chair beside her desk. Oh no, Red had forgotten her cape. Gerry lifted the cape and rubbed it on her face. She sneezed and then peered closely at the garment. What in the world? It seemed to be covered in what looked like dog hair. What was that about? They didn't have a dog. She shrugged, and took her cup, headed for the water cooler. It had been a long day already.