Snow
White: The Real Story
by
Karen Fried
“Pure
as the driven snow,” so they thought.
All
day long, I cook and clean up their mess.
Shifty,
Stupid, Dumpy, Frumpy, Loser, Smoker
and
Late to dinner are turning my hair gray.
I
could wring my lovely stepmother’s neck! Hi ho, hi ho,
out
the door you go with a shove shove here and
a
shove shove there. What I wouldn’t give to slip
a
cigarette in my ruby red lips. If this forest had a little
sun,
I wouldn’t have to endure this creamy white
complexion.
Oh, an old woman in rags begging at my door.
Get
off my porch! I don’t want your rotten apple. Here’s one
for
you. Bull's-eye!
Now
about that perfect prince,
I’ll
let you in on a little secret:
He
snores, throws his royal robes
on
the frozen stone floor
and
never cleans up after his horses.
He
also never stokes
my
fire, if you get my drift.
From
Karen Fried: “I
was born in Indianapolis and have lived here most of my life.”