I'm writing this as we travel along in our personal coach to the castle. I've had quite an interesting day.

It didn't start out well at all. I spent the night after the dance in vigil over the house, making sure Bookend didn't attack. So my lack of sleep and self control mixed with my apathy allowed me to snap at the step sisters when they remarked at my fatigue and commented on Cinderella's obvious sexual prowess. The looks on their faces was worth having hot coffee thrown in my face after my response.

The Princesses of the universe then got word of the nobleman's ball and rumors that the Prince was back from war and looking to settle down. Like two chickens with Saint Vitus Dance, they ran around the house to get ready. Or more accurately, Cinderella was chasing them around the house, trying to get them ready, putting them in clothing whose value could repair the house ten times over.

Cinderella asked to go, of course, and her mother, of course, laughed at her. She and said only if Cinderella could complete her chores. So with me and Wolf's help, we helped to get the impossible done. But as the story goes, when we were all finished it was too late. We were too dirty and had no dresses and we would only put the family to shame. The mother lives in a run down manor, has two daughters who couldn't seduce trolls, has the charm of a horde of locus and the charisma of a flatulent skunk. And she's worried about CINDERELLA putting the family to shame. Some people are weird.

So the step mom and step daughters rode off in their complimentary coaches, cause god knows they don't have one. And Cinderella broke down into a crying fit. She just collapsed onto the ground into a ball and started to heave as though the tears couldn't come fast enough. I've never been good at comforting a crying woman, mostly because they've been angry about things beyond my control. Namely me. So I held her, and contemplating whether proposing to and running off with her would be a good idea.

But the silence was broken when she said that all she wanted was to go to the ball. And with those words, a winged woman suddenly appeared with a magical wand. Wolf said he calls this one. She explains that's she Cinderella's Fairy Godmother. And she was here to grant Cinderella's fondest wish. She would make a coach for her out of a pumpkin. But alas. There appeared to be no pumpkins. Apparently Cinderella had pumpkins stored, but I found that the storage had been broken into. All that was left was the Bookend seal.

So we went on a hunt for a pumpkin in December. Eventually we had to steal one. We brought it back safe and sound for the Fairy Godmother who turned it into a carriage. Then with another wave of her wand, Cinderella was transformed. I had never seen anything so beautiful in my life. And I've seen Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. Her hair was fire and her dress was white as the snow on the ground. A gift from the heavens. And off she rides to end up with another man. The F.G. told her all the usual stuff, has to be home by midnight because that's when the spell would be broken blah blah blah, but I barely paid attention.

Anyway, she sticks her head out the window and thanked us continually until she's out of sight and out of earshot. My heart grieved as I thought of all the people at the ball and she would dance with her Prince. Then something hit me. All those people? What if she never dances with the Prince? Who knows what kind of thing Bookend could do? He might even kill her! Though in hind sight, I doubt it. He hasn't killed anyone yet. I talked to the Fairy Godmother and asked her to make me up for the ball as well.

She gave me this knowing look and said she would make me and Wolf handsome and fit for the ball. However, we only got until ten o'clock. After that, I would turn back. But I could still be around the party. Just to get in would be nice. And maybe there would be a chance that I would see her there.

I'm going there to work. And to make this story work. Right. And while I'm wishing, I want a pony.

I've often wondered what it means by the twelves days of Christmas. But, then again, Christmas is always a strange time of year. It is December 23, by my estimations, as if time flowed correctly in this time and place anyway. Only two weeks ago it was the middle of fall.

I spent most of the day not killing the stepsisters. It wasn't easy, what with everything they did to make it so understandable. The step family not only seemed to accept the fact that I was amongst them, but also accepted the fact that I too was their permanent slave and that I was to be abused as frequently without question as Cinderella was. So I spent the rest of the day helping Cinderella with her ever expanding and increasingly imaginative list of chores. There are dozens of rooms ranging from marble, rugged, carpeted and hard wooden, all needing to be cleaned. Forty baskets of laundry as the girls changed tri-hourly. The women eat six meals a day, and none of them ever eat the same thing. This place has over ten chimneys that need sweeping, according to the step sisters, hourly. And apparently they don't like it when I use their dresses to clean the flu. But their anerxic frames make their dresses the right size.

I think what's worse is that they take turns insulting me, then the hit on me. They must believe their insults are based off of some wit because they giggle. Makes me want to be sick. And they hate it when I flirt with Cinderella. Not like they care about my affections for her, it was that I showed no affection for them. But I did make sure they saw me jump the two story house to perform tai chi on the roof at dawn this morning. Ironically, it was them that I was trying to relax about. I'll never understand women I guess.

I'm shaking again. Shakes are never good. Shakes means anger. Anger means hatred. Hatred means rage. Rage is death. Death is Silver Rose. Silver Rose is eternal. Got to stop thinking about that. Nobody is dying. Nobody is going to die. I am apathy. I do not care. I don't care about anything. And I'm lying. I do care. And once again, I care in a place where I shouldn't be.

As a Christmas present, I was able to steal Cinderella away for a hot bath and a touch up. Clean clothes and a good brush makes all the difference. It's good to remind a woman she's beautiful and loved. If I thought Cinderella was beautiful before, she's gorgeous now. Her hair is a rich copper color under all that plaster and dirt, and she smiles with dimples under all that muck. And in new clean clothes she's as pretty as a queen.

We went to a little seasonal dance thing at the hall in town, one that the step sisters would never catch themselves dead at and I watched her dance. The men noticed her 'attractions' as I had and all wanted to dance with her. But it was the wolf on his hind legs that got the dance and we all laughed at the sport. The euphoria evaporated when I saw the messenger post up the proclamation on the board. A Christmas Celebration was taking place at spiral castle, and every noble was to attend a ball that would last until midnight Christmas Eve. I've heard of staying up to see Santa but that was a little ridiculous. My phone buzzed, but I didn't need to look at it to tell me what it said.

I can't allow myself to fall in love with her. And you know you already have when you have to remind yourself.

We have started Cinderella. It's not quite what I expected. It's better. And it's worse.

Let's talk about how it's better first. Cinderella is kind and sweet. She has a gentle soul and a soft word. She's also drop dead gorgeous with a body that says, Lady, you can have all of my kids. WOLF! SHUT UP! God, this is the last time a do a dictation.

Cinderella is gorgeous. I mean really cute. Beautiful. Enchanting. But instead of this scrawny little girl that the story illustrations always protray of her, Cinderella looks like a woman who runs and maintains an entire household and farm all by herself. Powerful arms, wide hips, great legs, long auburn hair that comes down to her firm bottom.

Ahem! It's worse too. The house, if you can call it that, is in a state of decay, more than in disrepair. Cinderella is the only person in the entire world that raises a finger or pays to maintain it. She had to close down two whole wings of the mansion in order to cut back on heating and repairs, not to mention cleaning them. The barn is leaning, and the few animals that do live their seem to be living in a corner of it.

Her sisters are the biggest bitches the world has ever known. And her stepmother is definitely the demon that spawned them. And what's even worse, is that her father is still alive. The bastard and his libido got his natural daughter a bed in the kitchen fireplace. He even calls her Cinderella like the rest. Wolf almost hopefully suggested that her father might be bewitched, but I've seen enough enchantment to know whether a person is bewitched by spell, or bewitched with his dick.

Let's start from the beginning shall I? We approached the house, and I noticed the roof about to collapse. So I offered my services to Cinderella. Wolf mentioned she was hot. I told him this one was mine. Cinderella was crying when we approached and I was finally able to convince her that I was not a demon and I just wanted to help her with the house.

Cinderella is possibly the oddest of the bunch. She's dirty and smelly like she hasn't bathed in weeks, yet she has more charm than her two clean step sisters put together. These women were ugly in spirit. I could see how people would seem them as beautiful, but my ability to see past flesh put a stain on these women, and they look awful in my mind. Maybe it's just me.

It has been a while since I've last been angry. Oh, sometimes I'm annoyed. Sometimes I seem upset. But anger is a different thing. And I was definitely getting angry with these women. The sisters called Cinderella atrocious things and said the most callous remarks. For example they said, “Cinderella, I didn't know you could afford a repairman. Did you steal from us again to make up for your expenses? We didn't notice anything missing, so maybe you're whoring yourself out again?” At that point I started to quack. It's a nervous tic I do, which also gain me the name Psycho Duck. They just started to laugh more at me, which made me quack me. I was so close. I was so close. Then something more frightening than my quacking broke the laughter. The Big Bad Wolf began to growl. They shrieked, kicked him and ran away.

Cindy started to cry and said something like she wished someone would take her away from here. I said give me the word and I'd kill her family and we'll run to the nearest chapel. I'm so happy I was joking. The laughing fit she entered afterwards was kind of embarassing.

Christmas is coming and the goose is getting fat. I need to do something special for my girl. But tonight I sit waiting for Bookend. No sleep for this Duck tonight. Wolf sleeps in the barn and I'm posted on the roof I just repaired. The stars glitter without light pollution to block them. I'm going to rig a blue crystal to act as a security alarm in case I do sleep.

Snow has fallen over Tale Town, covering everything with a layer of melted marshmallows. Hey, if the river can taste like cream soda, why not marshmallow snow? Granted I haven't tasted it but that's not the point. I've been informed that Christmas is indeed just a few days away. Christmas has always been a special time for me. I don't go wild with presents or gifts or PDAs. I treat myself to an expensive meal, watch a movie and spend time wandering the quiet town with friends.

Tonight, however, is Winter Solstice. The longest night of the year. At least it's not the coldest. And I'm glad to have spent it with the Big Bad Wolf. Overall, he seems like a nice guy. He's clever and witty. The only thing that is at fault with him is that he's always hungry. And he's has to compete with humanity for food supply.

We're sitting on the roof of an inn, which is full for the night, and I use my BC spyglass to scan the stars and the horizon. I don't remember any specific fairy tales that happens on Christmas, unlesss you count Rudolph, Frosty and the Nativity Story as a Fairy Tale. I'd make a great drummer boy. Still, I scan just in case I see anything. All that caught my eye was the very impressive castle. It just screams Fairy Tale looking at it. It's seems to be made of towers stacked upon each other, spiraling up to the heavens as if to challenge the gods themselves. And from past experience, it's a pointless waste of time to do that.

I'm no shaman trained to combat the forces of darkness on this night. Nor am I intuned to plead with the heavens to bring back the light. All I can do this night is light a candle and pray someone is doing their job.

Once upon a time...

...there lived a shoemaker, who owned a small shop with his wife. He did well for himself, but times became hard, and soon all the Shoemaker had was enough leather for one pair of shoes. The Shoemaker felt like giving up hope, but his wife smiled, saying that their luck would soon change. The encouragement of his wife took him back to his work, where he cut out the leather for the shoes. But exhaustion soon came over him and he fell into a deep sleep.

When he woke up in the morning however, he found a pair of shoes where the leather had been. He looked over the shoes, and saw that they were made well, so he believed he must have made them in his sleep. He placed the shoes in the window, and no sooner had he done so then a customer entered and tried them on. So please he was with the shoes that he bought them for more than the asking price, and left wearing them.

The Shoemaker was overjoyed, for the money was enough to buy leather for three pairs of shoes. He went to work that night, but once again exhaustion from the excitement overcame him and he fell asleep, leaving the work undone. But when he awoke the next day, he found the leather had once again become finely crafted shoes. And when he put them in the window, customers would come in and purchase them for more than he asked. The same thing happened the third night and the next. And soon the Shoemaker found himself well off as he was before, with shoes on his shelf and money in his pocket.

One night, when the shoemaker and his wife were in bed, the wife asked if he had ever wondered who made the shoes at night. He said he had, but he could not stay up when he was at the bench at night. The wife suggested that they sneak down at night and see who might be making the shoes. And so, on the next night, the Shoemaker and his wife watched in astonishment when two elves appeared on the bench and neatly and cleanly crafted shoes from the leather the Shoemaker had left that evening. The elves themselves wore clothing that looked tattered and frayed, and the wife suggested they make little clothing for them as a thank you gift. They left the tiny coats and shoes on the bench and the following night the elves took the clothes and danced away.

...and they all lived happily ever after.

The Elves and the Shoemaker is in the bag, and we're off to our next destination. Well, not really. We're staying in Tale Town for now. I realize I've been writing little stories for each log instead of just short entries, but I'll continue doing that anyway. Gotta fill 7 terabytes somehow.

Wives are great. I made a small suggestion that it would be great to stay up, and off she goes to suggest they stay up to catch a glimpse of their nightly visitors. Story book couples are great. They love each other unconditionally and never argue with one another. They just take their frustrations and hostilities out on the kids. Anyway, we stayed up late and finally saw the elves, working on the bench*. I was even able to catch a shot of them with my camera. The first non-blurry fairy shot. Guess this will be big on YouTube. Anyway, they were wearing ratty clothing and the shoemaker suggested they make new clothing as a thank you gift.

They made these adorable little outfits the next day** and left them on the bench instead of leather for new shoes. And last night we stayed up and watched the little elves put on their new clothing and danced around. And then they left as happy as could be.

My cellphone tells me it is now a happily ever after for all. The shoemaker has money for leather, as well as house and home. And as for me, it's time for me to take my leave before they offer to shower me with more unnecessary generosity. But when we started to walk down the street, who should show up but the Elves themselves. Elves themselves. Teehee.

They were grateful for all that I had done for their story. And as their own parting gift they gave me my new jacket. Black leather trench coat, heavy just the way I like it and with enough pockets to store everything, as well as a built in scabbard. And they also gave us a pair of magical scissors, fashioned from blue crystals. They not only could cut through anything, but with a few snips here and a few snips their, they can create any clothing out of thin air. And with that last thanks, they poofed away.

With the scisors, I cut Wolf a red bandana for his neck. Christmas was coming soon, or so they told me. Wonder what we shall see.

*What's the technical term for making shoes?
*Out of the last of the material from my jacket, mind you
 

It's been two days, and I must say, I'm impressed with the elusiveness of our benefactors. Three shoes miraculously appeared on the bench during the night, which subsequently sold for a high price early in the morning. In a depression, a good pair of boots is an equally good investment.

After three days, it seems the whole town is walking around with my jacket on their feet. Every morning, shoes will sit on the workbench, even though he had gone to sleep from exhaustion. These are very altruistic spirits, I might add. Nothing stolen, not even a cracker from the tin. And nothing has been left behind. Not even a note that said, here are the shoes, Merry Christmas.

This would be scary, but it seems rather harmless at the moment. I wonder briefly if the Devil's following me, but I doubt this notion. I'm not sure any of the Devil's stories would involve making shoes.

Okay, this train of thought is not going in the right direction. Think. It's almost Christmas. Christmas is a time for charity. What else? Santa... Christmas Trees before Halloween in the Bay... obnoxious family gatherings.... Frosty. Wait, wrong train of thought. Got to focus. Christmas. Solistice. Santa. Santa sounds about right. Almost every culture had a Santa figure. Generous and all that. Time of giving. Fat guy giving toys made by elves. ELVES! The Fey! Forest folk! The tricksters! The Vulcans of Lord of the Rings. Or are Vulcans the Elves of Star Trek? The slave labor of the modern Santa myth. And the same ones that helped a shoemaker! The Elves and the Shoemaker.

Well, that explains why I didn't think about it before. Guess I should suggest staying awake to the wife, so she can suggest it to him.

The shoemaker's luck comes in leaps and bounds. I stayed up most of the night, all the while I listened as the shoemaker fiddled in his shop. I went in to check on him to find my poor leather jacket had been cut to pieces. Oh well, it's for the cause. But beside the masacre was a pair of decent leather boots. Not the kind you could get from Mark's in this day and age, but I'd wear them.

The shoemaker seemed as amazed as I was to see them. He said the stress of the chase had made him weary and hungry and thought he'd just rest his eyes for a second. Then he awoke to find this. Poor guy passed out from exhaustion. But then, who made the shoes?

Well, no point looking a gift shoe in the tongue. We put them in the window and sure enough, some dude came in, tries them on, loves them, buys them, leaves.

Now the shoemaker has enough money for a meal and leather for three shoes. He insistes on paying for a meal for me. Never pass up a free meal, my mentor always said.

I'm on watch again tonight, hoping to catch my enemy. Or if that fails, to catch a glimpse of what might be making the shoes.

One Once Upon A Time and six hours of running later...

So my enemy or enemy's forces decided to break in and steal his last piece of leather. Me and Wolf chased after this black clad figure through the town before losing him. Stupid enemies. Can't I just be able to do my job for once without something like this happening?

Anyway, we get back and find the Shoemaker breaking the news to his wife, who is of course hysterical. Not the 'Oh look at me, I'm a rotten bitch, how am I going to afford jewelry, I should never have married you' hysterical. More like, 'I'm going to have to live on the street, begging for food' hysterical. And the icing on the cake was that she told her husband she was three months pregnant.

At that I walked outside and weighed my options. I knew I could never catch the thief now. And I couldn't afford to buy a new piece of leather. And even if I could, I would know where to find one. Which also rules out stealing one myself. I thought about it more and thought it was useless. But the thought of the wife and Shoemaker on the street didn't settle right. As dark and depressing stories can be, I cannot see this one ending up on the street and wasting away. Then I came up with an idea. I gave him my leather jacket. I knew it wouldn't make the BEST shoes in the world, but it would be better than no shoes in the window to sell.

The wife kept blessing me, and I told the shoemaker to get to get to work as soon as he could. Me and Wolf took up sleeping in the shoe maker's shop by the door to make sure no one got in or out. No one's getting passed me ton

We have reached Fairy Tale Town. Fairy Tale Town is that place where, if a fairy tale takes place in a town, it happens here. Hence the name Fairy Tale Town. You think they'd be more imaginative, but can you name five cities named in an actual Fairy Tale? Supposedly it's real name is in German, and I can't pronounce it, let alone spell it. Wolf tells me that it's okay. Since it's the only real city in this world, everyone refers to it as 'Town'. Everything else is just one street villages and keeps.

'Town' is dominated by two towering and quite impressive castles. I'm not sure if that means the town has two kings or not. Someone told me they were actually Lords but they called them Kings or Princes*. The rest of the town includes a harbor, a marketplace with many shops, and homes ranging from manors, to small cottages to planks propped against the wall to hide under.

No one seems to take much notice of the huge wolf and his insanely dressed gnome companion in their midst. But they also walk around with little expression at all. These must be background characters. Not much in the way of personality or overall temperment. Still, it was a nice crowd. The characters walked, laughed, watched street performers and shopped at the impressive market place. Not as many people as I expected. And the prices of food were quite high. I soon learned why.

I noticed the signs in many of the windows. Apparently Bookend's trouble has caused Fairy Tales no end of trouble, as many of the places have Going Out Of Business signs or Closed in the middle of the day. I guess if you don't know who you are and where you're going, it's understandable.

I'm sitting, writing this in the store of a worried young shoemaker. I entered his store to see if I could get some repairs done on my own shoes. Walking through rough terrain and running from angry Fairy Tale characters takes its toll. He was amazed at my shoe design, saying he never seen anything like them**, but he thought that with a simple gluing, they might be able to survive the rest of the trip.

I had little to pay him, so I offered him some scrambled eggs from the market and a piece of gold. Over this meal, he opened up to his situation. Apparently he's at the end of his money and wits. So much so that all he had left in the world was one last piece of leather, enough for one last pair of shoes. Me and Wolf had looked at each other and we wished him our blessings.

I'm sure it... I'll bb, the guy's screaming something.

*Mem: See if you can find a hierarchy list of royalty around here. Who's actually in charge of this place?
**Sneakers is quite the concept for 14^th century minds