Terrible Tales 2: The Bloodcurdling Truth About the Frog Prince, Jack and the Beanstalk, a Very Fowl Duckling, the Ghoulishly Ghoulish Snow White, a Really Crabby Princess, and a Very Squashed Pea
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Once upon a time, when witches and goblins still roamed the world and all the animals chatted amicably, a frog promises to do anything to win the hand of his fair lady. A spoiled boy must sell his cow in order to buy a pair of ruby red designer shoes, and a little swan who looks more like a goose must prove to all the other feathered creatures and the king that he is the best swan around. Unfortunately, none of the characters anticipate the surprises that await them.
Terrible Tales 2 is a delicious, zany collection of upside-down fairy tales sure to delight both children and the young-at-heart with their unmistakable life lessons and secrets to happiness, love, and success.
Felicitatus Miserius
Jennifer Gordon left her corporate role as a senior human resources executive to pursue her dream of writing books that build childrens self-esteem while combating the devastating effects of bullying. She lives in Vancouver, British Columbia, with her husband, John. This is her second book.
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Terrible Tales 2 - Felicitatus Miserius
Copyright © 2011, 2012 by Jennifer Quaggin
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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ISBN: 978-1-4620-0940-4 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4620-0941-1 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4620-0942-8 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2011913688
iUniverse rev. date: 09/13/2012
Contents
Foreword
The Frog Prince
Jack and the Beanstalk
The Ugly Duckling
Snow White
The Princess and the Pea
Backword
Dedication:
This book is dedicated to anyone who has ever been bullied, who has ever been made to feel less than perfect.
I have a secret to share with you: Bullies only ever pick on people who are destined for greatness. Bill Gates was bullied. Albert Einstein was bullied. So were J.K. Rowling, David Beckham, Tom Cruise, Megan Fox, Kate Winslet, Lady Gaga, Christina Aguilera, and Robert Pattinson, to name but a few.
Be proud! Stand tall!
You are going to have a wonderful life.
I guarantee it.
forword.tifForeword
Just when I thought it was safe to return to my humble abode …
But I’m afraid that I am getting ahead of myself. You are no doubt curious about the events that have transpired since I last wrote to you. Well, dear friend, my life has not been easy. Over the past few months, I have been in hiding, terrified lest the horrible old hag who attacked me with an ancient leather-bound book so many sleepless nights ago—in the comfort of my own parlor no less!—might be out searching for me, intent on inflicting further pain and suffering upon me.
And, I must confess, I would no doubt have spent the remainder of my life in this manner, shut off from all human contact, if I hadn’t happened across a newspaper article one day that informed me that the ghastly crone, the infamous Felicitatus Miserius herself, had finally died of old age and was now happily buried in a deep grave somewhere, unable to do me any more harm.
Well, you can imagine my elation! I found myself suddenly free of the terrible fear that had gripped me since the dreadful creature first darkened my doorstep.
Not wanting to waste one more moment in the nasty, flea-infested shack in which I had been forced to hide myself away, I packed my traveling bags and made my way back posthaste to my own humble home.
I burst through the front door and—horror of horrors!—was astonished to find that the place was being lived in. Dirty dishes were piled high in the kitchen sink, and the dining room table was littered with half-finished hunks of rotting cheese, maggoty apples, and overturned wine goblets. Papers and books had been tossed on the floor, and the velvet cushions of my favorite settee had been squashed flat by someone’s vile behind.
Clearly, my house had been taken over by a gang of filthy, mannerless vagabonds. I was horrified!
This was not the homecoming I had been expecting.
I was just about to call for a police officer to track down and arrest the gang of thugs, when I was startled to hear a noise coming from the bedroom at the back of the domicile.
Good lord! The miscreants were still in the house, lying in wait to ambush me no doubt! I rolled up a newspaper and held it aloft, ready to engage in battle. Slowly, I crept towards the room from which the noises were being emitted. Pausing to take a deep breath before striking out, I squared my shoulders and then— huzzah!—I charged into the bedroom, eager to teach the blighters a lesson they wouldn’t soon forget.
But, oh, dear friend, I wasn’t prepared for the horror that lay in store for me. Indeed, no one could be!
For there, lying under the eiderdown on my own precious bed was the body of none other than Felicitatus Miserius herself. And, worse yet, she wasn’t dead!
When she heard my screech of terror, the hideous crone leapt up and bolted across the room, giving me a swift kick in the shin with her pointy little boot.
Be quiet, you sniveling weasel,
she grunted, and then she kicked me once more.
I stood there dumbfounded, frozen with fear.
And it was then that I saw it. On the bedside table, half-hidden under a pile of crumpled, snot-covered tissues, lay another leather-bound book, identical in size and appearance to the dreadful tome that the old hag had forced upon me all those long months ago.
She followed my gaze and cackled ominously, setting my teeth on edge. From deep within the folds of the moldy, putrid cape in which she was wrapped emerged one of her hideous claws. With a crumbly nailed finger, she pointed at the book. I remained riveted to the spot. She pointed at the book again, snorting angrily, and then, before I could offer any resistance, she grabbed my wrist and dragged me over to the bedside table.
I stared down at the book, knowing that I had no choice. My fate had been sealed. Dreading what lay ahead, I picked up the book, sending the disgusting used tissues fluttering about the room like hundreds of snotty-winged moths.
Felicitatus Miserius gave one last triumphant cackle and kicked me in the stomach, as was her habit upon departing. She then disappeared out of the room and out of my house, leaving behind her the lingering scent of wet dog and split-pea soup that was, as you may recall, her signature fragrance.
Feeling utterly miserable, I carried the book into the dining room, where I began to read it, pausing only occasionally to nibble upon a few of the remaining hunks of furry green cheese that littered the table.
This book, like the companion to it, which I had read after Miserius’s first cursed visit, was filled with fairy tales—fairy tales that all ended horrifically in a most spine-tingling manner.
And stuffed between its yellowing pages was a letter from the cruel hag that warned of impending doom for all those who should fail to learn from the messages contained within the tome. The letter, if you should wish to read it, has been copied in its entirety below:
To All Those Who May at One Time or Another Hold This Book in Their Hands,
Know that the tales inscribed upon its pages provide the accurate and true recounting of events that took place during the golden age of humankind, when witches and goblins still roamed the world openly and animals could hold their own in any conversation. Trust the veracity of these accounts and heed not the later, deceitful versions of the tales, which were circulated solely to mislead innocent, guileless readers.
Contained within the stories you are about to read are the secrets to eternal happiness, love, and success. But—and mark my words most carefully—if you should disregard the lessons that these tales teach, or if you should fail to pass along to others all that you learn from them, certain doom will befall you.
This is no jest.
Choose wisely. Your future lies in the balance.
Yours in pain or in pleasure,
Felicitatus Miserius
June 9, 1244 AD
Ah, dear reader, how sorry I am to find myself once more in the unenviable position of