The Real Story of Hansel and Gretel

Now, you all know the story of Hansel and Gretel. You know, the witch bribed the kids into her house of candy and pushed one of them into the oven, blah, blah, blah. Well, I am that “witch” in the story, and I am going to tell you the real story of Hansel and Gretel. One day, I was taking cookies out of the oven for my book club when I heard a knock on the door. I was going to the door when I realized that the cookies looked like they were burned. I looked closer, and they were plump and perfectly golden-brown. I stepped back, and they looked all fuzzy and they looked burned like when I looked the first time. I need to get my eye checked, I thought as I opened the door.

At the door were two children, a boy and a girl. The boy had golden-brown hair that was exactly the same color as the cookie batter I had made as a backup batch. (Thank goodness I did. Normally, I eat at least 12 cookies, and if you add what the children were going to eat, them having a sweet tooth, they could eat four to eight cookies each.) Hansel’s freckles were exactly like the chocolate chips that were in the batter. While the cookies were in the oven I gave the children some lemonade so that they would feel refreshed.

Gretel said that they were adventuring in the woods looking for their grandmother’s house. She said her grandma had a surprise for them, and Hansel said he hoped it was candy. They had seen my candy house with the smell of cookies coming from it. Hansel started to reach for the candy, but Gretel stopped him and said we should ask permission. “So can we?” she asked. “Sure! Help yourself,” I said. They went outside, and I saw them take lollipops, Skittles, pieces of gingerbread, and icing. While they were outside, I took the cookies out of the oven. They ran in as I was closing the oven. Hansel ran in front of me, and he tripped and fell into the oven as I was closing it. I thought he was a running cookie, so I pushed him in a little bit and shut the oven. (What can I say — his hair, freckles, plus his round face made him look like a cookie. I have very bad eyesight.) Gretel probably thought that I did it on purpose. She started yelling at me to open the oven. (Which I was about to do, but I was treating a burn that I had gotten from the oven.)

“You evil witch!” Gretel said, as she was pulling her brother out of the oven. Suddenly, out of the blue, Gretel pushed me into the oven and shut the door tight. Somehow, I managed to open the door and saw them running away. Gretel was on her smartphone (which had a lollipop with a face on the cover), and I heard her yelling into it about a witch who had a shoved her brother into an oven and shut the door. (She was talking to 911, which I think was way too extreme.) I have no idea what she was talking about because that witch was not I. (I do have a few warts now and then, though.) Hansel was passed out in her arms. I guess she couldn’t carry him any more because she set him down.

The police cars and an ambulance came. The ambulance took Hansel on a stretcher, and the police came over here and broke into my house. (How rude!) The police said, “You’re under arrest for almost killing this poor boy!” So here I am in jail with my publisher, the Wolf, from the Three Little Pigs, and my editor, the stepmother of Cinderella. (They were both falsely accused of a crime, too.) Now you know the true story of Hansel and Gretel. I hope you choose to believe me and not anybody who tells you this is not true.