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The story continues . . .
THE twins gripped their shovel and held it up high,
While Rox with her broom reached for the sky.
Thomas said, "Careful now, don't have a cow.
Let's start our exit by taking a bow."
"Leaving already?" The Queen asked perplexed.
"You've not seen the palace's entire complex."
Roxie said, "We've seen enough and we'd rather,
Not keep you from others; your sister; your brother."
"Nonsense! Good gawd children," the Queen said with strife;
"I can grant wishes - it's your one chance in life.
So tell me you babies, what would you like?
A dolly or dresses or maybe a bike?
"All that you wish for you will surely have.
Ask me for something; it does my heart glad.
Ask for something nice; please won't you be greedy?
I get off on granting wishes to the needy.
Anything you want, do you hear what I'm saying?
It's mine to grant; it's mine for okaying.
So ask me for something, ask me right now.
Ask me for anything, or I'll start a row."
Roxie counted to ten as a rule,
Whenever she thought being taken a fool.
And right then she was passing nine on to ten,
For she knew that the Queen was just Missus End.
The tiara she wore was made of cheap metal,
A discarded handle from an old tarnished kettle.
And grand though her robe was, they could have done better,
Than to use Mister End's hand-me-down sweater.
Her makeup of all was the best that they did,
Very thick eyelash with colored eyelid.
And though for a moment they all were fooled,
The jig was up when she carelessly drooled.
"Ask me for something I can give away,"
The Queen begged and added, "I don't have all day."
Richard was hoping to ask her for food;
That she was a fraud he had not understood.
Timmy wished for a fresh brand new thumb,
As the one he was sucking had lost all its yum.
The twins wanted to be granted strength,
To carry their shovel to battle at length.
While Roxie wished it would all be a dream,
That she'd wake up and talk about how real it seemed.
But Thomas beat all the others at speech,
So his voice to the Queen's ears did reach.
"Ask for something nice; please won't you be greedy?
I get off on granting wishes to the needy."
"Your Majesty, Highness," he faked his respect,
"Our lives are pitiful from social neglect.
Our mum, as you know, does all that she can,
To keep us from starving, since starving's been banned.
But it can't be easy, of that you'll agree,
To keep seven mouths fed when they are hungry.
So I guess what I'm saying to defend our mum,
Is that she's tried hard and not been a bum.
We want to reward her, of that we are rife,
By granting each of us a long happy life."
"Nothing more?" asked the faux Queen,
"Nothing else do you mean?
Just long in living,
Just longevity?"
"That's all we want," Thomas said with a sneer,
To grant us just that would be ever so dear."
"You must be Albert," the Queen said with a pat.
"For Albert would think up a request like that.
Albert's not greedy, no he's smarter there,
But what of the rest of you; for what do you care?"
"The same," Roxie said with some forced conviction,
Hoping to somehow prevent their extinction.
"Twins never do want the same as another,
What about you girls? Are you with your brother?
It seems a very strange request to make,
Long life when there are THINGS for the take.
"So none of you want to be selfish this day,
None of you think that greed is okay?
So be it, and try to be happy in life.
Live for today, and try not to cause strife.
But if when you get home you feel poor and hurt,
Don't blame me, blame your brother Albert."
Thomas was seething at this point inside,
Being called Albert was hurting his pride.
"Missus . . ." he started to fumbling blurt,
"I mean Your Highness, my name's not Albert.
My name is Thomas, I'm younger than Al;
Do you grant us this wish for a long life right now?"
"Thomas? Good heavens!" the Queen said with a shout.
"Where is your brother? Hiding about?"
"He didn't come with us," Roxie half lied.
"I mean he came with us but skipped half the ride."
"Where did you leave him? Why did he go?"
The Queen made it clear that she wanted to know.
"Good grief!" she yelled, calling her husband in,
Sounding less like a Queen and more like Missus End.
"They've gone and lost Albert," she said to him mad.
"Somewhere on the road 'tween here and their pad.
We'd better go find him; we've no time to stall;
Find him before he doeth spoileth all!"
"Come along children," Mister End ordered,
And away they all swept down the hall panel-bordered.
For a minute they stood there blocking the way,
A minute that seemed like a year and a day.
THE wagon was bumpy, worse than before,
As End cracked his whip about twice as much more.
Roxie was pinching her flesh ever tight,
Hoping she'd wake from this dream in the night.
When suddenly pitching the door opened wide,
And where Albert bailed out all of them spied.
Then on past Beck's goose farm the wagon it sped,
And racing it got to the edge of their spread.
Slowing way down they rolled up to the shoe,
When one after another out the wagon they flew.
The lights were on and for a shoe it looked cozy;
Reaching the door, Timmy felt dozey.
While Roxie fought to keep eyes open wide,
Exhausted from the speed of the ride.
"I'm hungry," the mid-child Richard complained,
"For that," said the Queen, "Thom can be blamed.
I gave you a chance to wish for some food,
But none of you did that; not one of your brood."
"We're home now and safe," the twins said with their shovel.
Thank you for escorting us to our hovel."
"I think I'll just sit a bit with your mum,"
The Queen invited herself with aplomb.
And Mister End followed her lead like a tool,
Obviously taking each kid for a fool.
"Do as you please," Thomas said to the knave,
Getting a grip on the still hidden blade.
"Yeah, stay if you want to," Roxie said bolder,
Hoisting the broom up high on her shoulder.
For a minute they stood there blocking the way,
A minute that seemed like a year and a day.
"Curious," Mister End said with a frown.
"You look like you're wanting to knock both us down."
"Nah," Thomas mocked, "She's the center of power.
Knocking down her would land me in the Tower."
Just at that moment the door opened up,
And their mum announced they were in time to sup.
The Queen and her husband accepted the offer,
While Roxie asked mum if she'd seen their brother.
"Seen him?" said she, "Of course I have.
He told me everything; that you'd been bad.
Now take a place at the table divine;
It's Christmas Eve and it's time to dine."
In silence the children did as she said,
'Cept Timmy who put his wee-self to bed.
She served up the meat on each dish pewter-plated,
And spoke of Albert like he was belated.
"What kind of meat is this?" Thom asked with fright.
Laughing his mother told him it was white.
"And what kind of mum. . ." Roxie started to add,
But had second thoughts about making her mad.
The meat sure looked good, she had to admit.
It seemed almost forever since she'd last had it.
Her mouth watered so, and she wanted a taste,
But thinking of Albert altered her haste.
"What kind of what dear?" her mummy asked.
"What kind of wine is there in that flask?
Or what kind of seasoning makes this meal so
Appealing and fine, is that what you want to know?
I'll tell you my brathead, so you'll not be spooked;
This Christmas Eve your goose is cooked."
At that, Roxie took cue to fly,
And with the broom hit her mum in the eye.
The twins with their shovel pounded her legs,
Upsetting the table of its deviled eggs.
"You horrible witch thing!" Roxie let scream,
Wishing it was all a terrible dream.
"Don't move an inch," Thom said to the Queen,
Waving his blade and looking quite mean.
"Cannibals all of you, eating our brother.
How can you behave like that with one another?
Masquerading like royalty, a 'guise too thin,
To cover the fact you're none but Missus End."
"Put the blade down boy," Mister End begged,
Before you hurt someone or we end up dead."
Continued . . .
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