My Speech121 group of seven constantly ramble with each other to come up with a story for our (looming) children’s literature performance. For all I care, we are yet to perform something in front of gullible toddlers which they can instantly relate with and participate on.
Because I already said even before time that I’ve always wanted to be Sweeney Todd, this piece could never be likable for those brats. Our make-up could scare them to their wits while eternally whimpering, “Mommyyyyy!” The piece itself is hell gory and we might get censored by some self-important parent.
Edgar Allan Poe’s dark literature apparently won’t be even thought of. So weird of me. Shit, I really really wanna frighten the kids till their eyeballs stick out. Kidding.
And so I propose my own (Comm3) piece, “Snow White and Snow Cone.”
Once upon a time, after about the time the naïve albino Snow White and the necrophiliac Prince Charming got married in Las Vegas, they bore a daughter. Sorry to say, the infant looked like she was unearthed from the pits of the Sahara desert. She was mute and has gotten bronze skin. She has split-ended hair strands, nostrils which could lodge a WWE wrestler, etc, all of which could have savaged her parents’ respective family trees.
And because of such “tragedy,” Snow White’s irk bloated such that she wanted to flick her daughter like a buger. She theorized that the apple she crunched into earlier has severely infected her DNA.
The kid was later named Snow Cone because her pigment matched that (or worse), according to the boorish mother, of the common ice cream cones. It’s not that because the kid was any connected to the delicacy, she said. Although, the name “Snow” marked that she was indeed Snow White’s unica ija. (The pregnant fairy tale princess learned in the Philippines– when Charming toured her via horse cart– of how we, Filipinos, normally add Jr. to our heirs. “Snow White Jr.” would not sound nice, she thought).
At 18, the maltreated Snow Cone thought that she shared the same destiny as that of her favorite third-world local pop star Gina Sarronimo: A Singer-Actress In The Making. But, alas, Cone was mute. One night, she went to their lofty tower’s terrace and acted emo until she began to mouth (and shout) words straight from her lungs. No one could hear her anyway.
At the split-second when she was about to throw herself out of the castle, some winged skimpily clad lady who performed “Beep” of Pussycat Dolls for her number entered the scene. The bombshell wore a skirt you could mistake for a scarf and refused to be called godmother. “I’m too hot for a ninang!” she beamed.
The lady said she understood the poor girl’s situation so she gave her a voice for a gift at a swish of her magic wand. Snow Cone’s smile reached both her ears. No one could define how happy she was. And then the sexy godmother fled for a scheduled facial treatment (with “Sobrang Init” of Kamikazee for her background music).