Pasty and Flabby, two of the Seventeen Dwarves of Domestic Turpitude, hogged the remote, and wouldn’t let Snow White watch the commercials.

She divorced the lot of them, went around saying that men were alike and she "wasn’t looking right now."

P & F took up with girls half their age who were bored and "just wanted attention." They had money, but not that much. (Snow White spurned alimony, but they gave her the woodcutter’s hut.)

The prince got to her coffin using a gas-station map. It was inoccupada; Whitey was kickboxing. The prince sat down and wept.

Presently he saw the maid, an illegal alien. She had the dark hair Snow White had bleached and cut off. Of course he fell for this shy raveness, who was cuter than White any day, and could cook. She was so gracefully deferent!

All would have been well had not the dragon from a neighboring condo decided to rampage. Queer vermin/straight ermine, this dragon chose princes, not -esses. Heroics were called for. Snow White was pressed into service and said yes, to pay off her legal fees.

Turned out no nails had to be broken; Whitey’s dealmaking snared him a gig through Netconferencing, blow-drying extras en masse for a remake of Captains Courageous.

"Now where’s my happy ending?" said Whitey. But the witch scrambled her cable, outpacing signal with noise.

10-18-06