Politically Correct Bedtime Stories Read Free Page B

transportational needs of another. The witch loved music and taught Rapunzel to sing. They passed many long hours singing together in the tower.
    One day a young prince rode near the tower and heard Rapunzel singing. But as he rode closer to find the source of the lovely sound, he spied the witch and hid himself and his equine companion in the trees. He watched as the witch called out to Rapunzel, the hair fell down, and the witch climbed up. Again, he heard the beautiful singing. Later, when the witch finally left the tower and disappeared in the other direction, the prince came out of the woods and called up:

    ‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,
    ‘That I might climb your golden stair.’

    The hair cascaded from the window, and he climbed up.
    When the prince saw Rapunzel, her greater-than-average physical attractiveness and her long, luxurious hair led him to think, in a typically lookist way, that her personality would also be beautiful. (This is not to imply that all princes judge people solely on their appearance, nor to deny this particular prince his right to make such assumptions. Please see the disclaimers in the paragraphs above.)
    The prince said, ‘Oh, beautiful damsel, I heard you singing as I rode by on my horse. Please sing for me again.’
    Rapunzel didn’t know what to make of this person, since she had never seen a man up close before. He seemed a strange creature—large, hairy in the face, and possessing a strong, musky odour. For reasons she could not explain, Rapunzel found this combination somewhat attractive and opened her mouth to sing.
    ‘Stop right there!’ screamed a voice from the window. The witch had returned!
    ‘How … how did you get up here?’ Rapunzel asked.
    ‘I had an extra set of hair made, in case of emergency,’ said the witch matter-of-factly. ‘And this certainly looks like one. Listen to me, Prince! I built this tower to keep Rapunzel away from men like you. I taught her to sing, training her voice for years. She’ll stay here and sing for no one but me, because I am the only one who truly loves her.’
    ‘We can talk about your codependency problems later,’ said the prince. ‘But first let me hear … Rapunzel, is it? … let me hear Rapunzel sing.’
    ‘NO!’ screamed the witch. ‘I’m going to throw you from the tower into the thorn-of-colour bushes below so that your eyes will be gouged out and you’ll wander the countryside cursing your bad luck for the rest of your life!’
    ‘You may want to reconsider that,’ said the prince. ‘I have some friends in the recording industry, you see, who would be very interested in … Rapunzel, wasn’t it? Different, kind of catchy, I suppose …’
    ‘I knew it! You want to take her from me!’
    ‘No, no, I want you to continue to train her, to nurture her … as her manager ,’ said the prince. ‘Then, when the time is right, say a week or two, you can unleash her talent on the world and we can all rake in the cash.’
    The witch paused for a second to think about this, and her demeanour visibly softened. She and the prince began to discuss record contracts and video deals, as well as possible marketing ideas, including life-like Rapunzel™ dolls with their very own miniature stereo Tune-Towers™.
    As Rapunzel watched, her suspicions turned into revulsion. For years, her hair had been exploited for the transportational needs of others. Now they wanted to exploit her voice as well. ‘So, rapaciousness does not depend solely on gender,’ she realized with a sigh.
    Rapunzel edged her way to the window without being seen. She stepped out and climbed down the second set of hair to the prince’s waiting horse. She dislodged the hair and took it with her as she rode off, leaving the witch and the prince to argue about royalties and percentages in their phallus-shaped tower.
    Rapunzel rode to the city and rented a room in a building that had real stairs. She later established the non-profit Foundation for