Dear Far Far Away,
I have a headache this morning. Let me just catch you up on yesterday's events.
The ants were becoming unbearable, so I decided to strip down to my underwear and go for a dip in a pond I found. I'd just reached shore again when I noticed that there were some weird little men hanging around the tree line. Luckily, the animals hovering around spared my blushes but I was impressed at how quick the paparazzi found me – especially when even I hadn't got a clue where I was.
Turns out they weren't photographers. I do have my suspicions about the one in glasses, though. He had the same glint in his eye as that irritating Huntsman. They took me into their tiny house, where I hit my head on the ceiling more than once, and told me if I would do their chores for them then I could stay there a while. Disturbingly, the porky one with the inane grin on his face brought out a maid's outfit that was just my size, but I figured they could probably do with some female influence in their lives. Not only was their place a tip, but their fashion sense is horrific. They even wear slippers outside.
They brought out some bottles of a bizarre alcohol to celebrate my arrival (note: get the recipe), and we partied into the night. A couple of the lightweights went off to bed early, the one that kept yawning and the one with the cute little red face, but the rest of us kept going until sunset. We even played “spin the bottle”, which was interesting considering I was the only girl. I did wonder how they had learnt such a game exists because they don't appear to have ever entertained a lady before.
Yours,
Snow
I have a headache this morning. Let me just catch you up on yesterday's events.
The ants were becoming unbearable, so I decided to strip down to my underwear and go for a dip in a pond I found. I'd just reached shore again when I noticed that there were some weird little men hanging around the tree line. Luckily, the animals hovering around spared my blushes but I was impressed at how quick the paparazzi found me – especially when even I hadn't got a clue where I was.
Turns out they weren't photographers. I do have my suspicions about the one in glasses, though. He had the same glint in his eye as that irritating Huntsman. They took me into their tiny house, where I hit my head on the ceiling more than once, and told me if I would do their chores for them then I could stay there a while. Disturbingly, the porky one with the inane grin on his face brought out a maid's outfit that was just my size, but I figured they could probably do with some female influence in their lives. Not only was their place a tip, but their fashion sense is horrific. They even wear slippers outside.
They brought out some bottles of a bizarre alcohol to celebrate my arrival (note: get the recipe), and we partied into the night. A couple of the lightweights went off to bed early, the one that kept yawning and the one with the cute little red face, but the rest of us kept going until sunset. We even played “spin the bottle”, which was interesting considering I was the only girl. I did wonder how they had learnt such a game exists because they don't appear to have ever entertained a lady before.
Yours,
Snow
2 comments:
Hello again I am on catch up, this is what happens when you go off and have a good time in the real world for a few days or so.
Spin the bottle . . . . . . I dont remember that as I ponder my limited knowledge of Walt Disney. I will say I am not surprised as I get older I have come to realize things are never quite as they seem.
Keep up the good work
Dear Rob,
Welcome back from your land of "Scot". I did pop over to your tavern but I noticed you were absent. Regardless, your bar staff were still pleased to serve.
No, sadly Mr. Disney decided that a child-friendly down version was more suitable.
Yours,
Far Far Away
Post a Comment