(Originally published in And/Or (Inaugural Issue, November 2010)
I guess you’d be pretty grumpy, too if you shared a crackerbox cottage with six other chirpy little bastards, up every day at the crack of dawn with a merry Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho on their lips, off to work after nothing but a meager bowl of gruel, carrying pickaxes and a box of dynamite, leaving behind such a rare beauty, a fair-skinned brown-eyed princess to sweep up after them, make up their beds, wash out their nasty sheets, no one keeping her company but a bunch of dopey bluebirds. What a waste. And speaking of dopey, let me just say a few words about a couple of the schmucks I work with: I busted a thumb about a month ago and found out Doc’s not much of a real doc; and I don’t know what it is that keeps that nitwit Sleepy nodding all day or Happy so friggin happy, but sooner or later there’s bound to be a cave-in and, frankly, I’ll be glad for the time off. Maybe then I’d get to hang around the house, see if the princess comes across with a little TLC. Now, that might improve my attitude some, eh? Go away now, you’re buggin me.