askinâ,â I says.
âWell, donât get smart.â
But Iâm right. Gingerbread houseâs a trap. Hanselâs locked in that cage âcause the witch trapped him and plans to killâm. Isnât that somethinâ like that Herodâd do ta get his hands on the Baby Jesus? But sheâs even worseân thatâsheâs not just a witch, sheâs like a cannibal. She plans ta getâm all fattened up soâs she can eatâm. What she wasnât, that witch, was magic. She was just a mean old thing who ate children. No spells that I can remember, like that abracadabra, or ridinâ around on a broomstick orâ¦
No. Sheâs just old and near blind and she had a trap fer kids so she could cookâm up like a big chooky dinner on Sunday.
Gives ya the creeps.
Pause. An owl very faintly in the distance.
What kept them goinâ, those two, was that they had each other, they werenât alone.
âThatâs the good thing âbout family, that, havinâ a sister or a brother.â I told my kids that.
âItâs important that ya stick together. Then yâre not alone. Ya can help each other.â
Isnât that why we tellâm the story? Sâwhat itâs all about.
I heard it with Mike at Gramâs and at Mrs. Owensâs, too, and at the Thompsonsâ and probably even with Mum way back. Everybody knows it. At school itâs a picture book and Gram had it on my dadâs View-Master, but itâs always Hansel and Gretel and the gingerbread house. And they won out, they did. It was tough goinâ, but Gretel shoved that witch in the oven, giveâr a taste of her own medicine, cooked her up. And after, after the little duck bringsâm home with the witchâs treasure, after that, then everythinâs just dandy forever.
Was it ever a real true story? I mean, like way back? In Germany or wherever it is that they lived, that family? The Black Forest? Howâd it get started? Was they real kids once upon a time?
Mikeâs smart as a whip. âWhatâs that house do when it rains?â he says. âDonât it get all soggy and melt?â
âItâs a story,â they say, âjust quiet up and listen.â
âBut itâd get some sticky. Turn right ta mush.â
âDonât get smart.â
âEnd up lookinâ like a big pile a puke.â
Little Bobby always liked that part. That part about his Uncle Mike.
They should a met, those two. Things would a been real different if Mike couldâve come ta see his nephew. What a different world it would a been all around. Mike cominâ ta visit us after all that time.
âDad, thereâs a man says he knows ya at the door!â
âWhy thatâs yer uncle Mike.â
âYer big brother?â
âOne and the same!â
Mike cominâ back ta see us allâ¦
Pickinâ little Bobby up, tossinâm in the air.
Angie goinâ, âCareful now, careful.â
All of us happyâ¦
I know it could neverâve happened, but what if? What if?
Before all this, before yesterday, worst thing in my whole life was losinâ Mike. I never knew ya could feel that bad about anythinâ.
Suddenly, he erupts.
Ya donât teach us that, do ya? (
shouts
) Do ya?
Donât teach us thatâs gonna happen!
What good are ya? Canât teach us nothinâ useful, now ya canât even find me, canât even find me, ya fuckers!
Useless assholes. Useless search party assholes. I dare ya! (
shouts
) I dare ya!
Stupid fuckers.
Calms himself.
You ever feel this bad? Any a you ever feel this bad?
Waits.
Didnât think so.
A moment.
When Mom brought us ta Gram and Fa, after Dad died, I sâpose I felt bad then. But I canât remember much, I was so little. Then Faâs shovellinâ the driveway one night when he keels over, same as happened ta Dad. I was asleep, slept through