was it the dish that ran away with the spoon?  the fork?  perhaps it was the cat.  she couldn't remember.  fairy tale what?  happily ever who?  those weren't her stories.  not then, not now.  just mere, pathetic moments, perhaps totalling three.  the one's where her mother felt compelled to try to cultivate happiness.  chris van allsburg... why was it always before christmas?  was it just that christ's birth was more important than the lives of those two little children now snuggled on either side of her?  or that she was broken too?  but fairy tales only exist in those sacred storybooks.  and in real life there is no happily ever after.  not unless you consider those mere moments that sleeping beauty had with the needle in her arm before she fell into a drug induced coma.  or perhaps the feeling of being loved snow white had before realizing the fucking dwarves only loved her because they were short enough to look up her skirt.  love... yes... of course love.  nothing ever in the absence of love... not ever.  because what is love?  happily ever after?  just give me sleeping beauty's needle.  i'd love some of that happily ever after, too.