Once upon a time, there lived a wicked woman. You could tell she was wicked from her crooked nose with a big wart on top. However, she had absolutely no talent for witchcraft, which somewhat impaired her wickedness. She could lure handsome princes into dark forests—but no matter how much she waved her self-made wand about, they stubbornly refused to be turned into frogs. She could catch children, kill, cook, and eat them—but, for some reason, the magic paste she made from their bones never gave her the ability to fly, as she discovered to her great disappointment when she jumped off the great cliff at Pirate Cove.

"Death and damnation!" Pulling seaweed from her hair, the wicked woman marched back onto land at the nearest beach, her boots squelching. "I did it exactly as it said on the witch's recipe! I'm suing that witch for fraud!"

Thus, the wicked woman remained a very unhappy wicked woman, far from reaching self-actualization as the villain she dreamed of being. However, things did not get really bad until she met the Prince.

We're not talking about any of the princes she tried to turn into frogs. Oh no. Those were just mediocre princelings. This is the Prince, with a capital 'P.' The kind that goes around sneaking into sleeping princesses' rooms and forcing shoes on the feet of innocent, unsuspecting girls.

The Prince was just newly arrived in town and had called all the women of the town together to have a good look at their left feet when the wicked woman saw him for the first time. It was a magical moment. She was standing with a lot of other women in the middle of the town square when, suddenly, the royal carriage rolled up, and there exited the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life, followed by a pack of lackeys and bootlickers.

"Up with your skirts!" the Prince commanded. "All of you!"

How incredibly romantic!

Well, not really, but he was the Prince, after all.

The women raised their skirts, proudly displaying their feet. The wicked woman followed suit, quickly slipping off her black crackows. She watched avidly as the Prince went from woman to woman, trying to squeeze the shoe he had brought on the foot of every single female. The wicked woman knew that it wouldn't fit any of the others. She knew because, in her heart, she knew that the Prince belonged to her. It was destiny! He would slip the shoe onto her foot, smile at her, gather her up in his arms, and carry her off to the royal bedchamber, where he would make passionate, wicked...

Here, the thoughts of the wicked woman digressed somewhat from the main plot of our tale. Suffice it to say that it was love at first sight, and a lot more besides that had better not been mentioned just in case children are reading this and their parents are watching.

Finally, the long awaited moment had arrived. The crowd around the wicked woman parted, and the Prince stepped forward, kneeling in front of her with fluid grace.

"My lady? If you would allow?"

He gently took hold of her foot and gazed up at her. His eyes widened. The wicked woman smiled. It was a magical moment.

"Good God! That one is ugly!" he gave a snort. "If the shoe fits, I'm demanding a refund from the shoemaker!"

Well, magical for her, anyway. Her smile waned somewhat. But no matter! He'd soon see that they were destined for one another when the shoe—

"Thank God!" The Prince breathed a sigh of relief. "It doesn't fit!"

"What?" The wicked woman stared down at him. "Try again!"

"Good God, no! Do you take me for an idiot?"

The wicked woman had to admit, this wasn't quite the magical marriage proposal she had been expecting. Other women shoved her aside to take their turn with her shoe, and she was forced to retreat.

This was intolerable! She would be damned if she would allow those despicable good little girls and virgins to steal her man from her! Well, she was damned already anyway, since she had sold her soul to the devil, but so what? The Prince belonged to her!

"He loves me!" she grumbled, marching away from the square. "He loves me with all his heart, and he is going to get that into his thick head or suffer the consequences!"

The wicked woman lacked witching abilities, but one thing she did not lack was resolve. She knew that a little magic was necessary to make the stupid Prince find out how very much he was hopelessly in love with her. Since she couldn't accomplish the task herself, she decided to seek help. And there was really only one evil witch powerful enough to suit her purposes: the Wicked Witch of the South-South-East. (Formerly known as the Wicked Witch of the North-West, she had recently relocated because too many little girls were showing up at her door trying to dump water on her.)

The journey was a perilous and terrible one. On the first day, the wicked woman had to cross the dragon lands, wherein housed all the worst monsters of Fairyland and which nobody can enter without getting devoured. Or, at least, nobody who doesn't take proper precautions. The wicked woman had packed carefully before leaving and had half a dozen tasty children tucked away in her magical travelling bag. While dragons generally prefer maidens of a marriageable age, they are not at all averse to children when they can get them, particularly not if the only alternative is an exceedingly chewy-looking woman with a wart on her nose.

Having passed the dragonlands, the wicked woman had to brave the sea of storms, where there usually were a really great big lot of storms. She achieved this, too, by grabbing a sea nymph and slamming her head into a rock until she agreed to quiet the sea.

After heroically passing through those dark and deadly regions and surviving the most horrible dangers, however, the greatest challenge still lay before her: she had to cross the forest of fairies, where everyone is happy. All the time. And everyone dances. And sings—usually about how happy they are.

What are dragons compared to such primeval terrors?

By the time the wicked woman reached the other side of the fairy forest, she was hardly able to stand and was covered from head to toe in fairy dust. Yet, in front of her, she saw a comfortingly familiar sight, a sight that gave her hope: an old, crooked gingerbread house with black smoke curling out of the chimney and a pile of children's bones outside in the yard. With her last bit of strength, she dragged herself to the front door and raised the skull-shaped knocker.

Thud! Thud!

She knocked at the door. The reply wasn't long in coming.

"No, I'm not happy, and I don't want to bloody dance! And I don't want any fairydust, either! Why can't you just leave an old woman to commit infanticide in peace?"

"I'm not a fairy," called out the wicked woman.

"Oh?" The voice from inside sounded suspicious. "You're not a girl with a bucket of water, are you?"

"No!"

"A child?" This time, she sounded hopeful. "Nice and crisp?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Then be off with you!"

"But I'm wicked!"

There was a moment of silence.

"How wicked?" demanded the voice.

"Last year, I cooked my own niece and served her up to my sister as a birthday dinner."

"Hm. And did your sister get any gifts from you?"

"Yes. I put the little brat's bones in the packages."

"Well, if that's the case..." Slow footsteps sounded from inside. A moment later, the door creaked open with a sound that could frighten the dead. Fortunately, the wicked woman was still very much alive. "Come in, dear."

"Thank you."

"Nice wart you have there."

"Oh, thanks so much! Yours is very ugly, too. And the green face, and that stench coming from your armpits...simply horrific!"

"Thanks so much! Take a seat, dear. What do you think of my home?"

"I have to say, it's simply an absolutely disgusting hovel!"

"Why, that's so kind of you!"

The wicked woman had never met with such a wonderfully wicked welcome. Soon, the two of them were chatting amicably and sipping blood out of teacups.

"A bit of bone marrow with your blood, dear?"

"Just a pinch, thank you. I have to watch my weight."

"Now, tell me...what is it that brought you here?"

Quickly, the wicked women outlined the barebones of the story, emphasizing how very much she truly loved the Prince and what an excellent bed slave he would make once she had subdued him to her will.

"Only, he's being obstinate," she finished with a sigh. "He obviously doesn't know true love when it spits him in the face."

"Have you tried?"

"Tried what?"

"Spitting him in the face. It can work wonders for a relationship."

"Really?"

"Yes. Of course, you have to have magical spit, otherwise it could backfire."

The wicked woman slumped in her seat, discouraged. "Then I'm lost. I'm afraid I don't have any magical spit, or magical anything."

The witch's one eyebrow rose abruptly. "What? You don't have a drop of magic in your blood?"

"Nothing, I'm afraid." She sniffed, fighting the tears that were threatening at the corners of her eyes. "I can't even turn princes into frogs! Trust me, I've tried."

"Tut-tut. That is a problem. But not to worry!" The Wicked Witch of the South-South-East got up, her bones creaking in a menacing way, spraying dandruff all around her. "What are friends for? I can give you a little something that will soon set your Prince right! Don't you worry."

She limped over to a breathtakingly designed child-bone coffee table and sorted through a collection of vile-looking vials.

"Here it is!" Picking up a small vial with violet content that bubbled and spit out black steam for no apparent reason, she handed it over to the wicked woman, who took it reverently. "Put three drops in his wine, and he'll love you forever. Three drops exactly, mind you. One will make him hate you, two will make him get an inexplicable urge to eat his own feet, and four will make him turn into a cabbage and explode—none of which, I'm sure, is the ending you're hoping for."

"Well, the cabbage thing might be interesting to see, but I think I'll stick with my original plan." The wicked woman grasped the warty hand of the Wicked Witch of the South-South-East and shook it warmly. "Thank you so much! You have changed my life forever. If you ever need anything—a helping hand, a leg, a severed head—you have only to ask. I'm there for you."

"Thank you, dear! That warms the heart of an old woman like me."

Thus, the wicked woman returned victorious from her dangerous quest for true love. She arrived just in time. The Prince had announced his forthcoming marriage to a little vixen who had somehow managed to squeeze her foot into the shoe. When the wicked woman saw a picture of the future princess, she gave a derisive snort. The 'princess' was nothing but a little slip of a girl – a kitchen maid, of all things, who probably hadn't even had time to clean the dirt from under her fingernails yet! She would have no idea how to satisfy the cravings of a ravishing man like the Prince, who probably had the stamina of a...

At this point, the thoughts of the wicked woman somewhat digressed once more. However, collecting herself, she remembered that she had better hurry. If the Prince married before she got to him, she would have to kill off the bride. Not that she was generally averse to bride-killing, but her larder was already full to the brim with smoked and salted children and she wouldn't know what to do with the girl.

No, it was best to hurry and save the Prince from the horrible fate that awaited him. Thus, the wicked woman embarked on her second quest, determined to save her one true love. This time, it wasn't a particularly long quest. The Royal Palace was just around the corner. Guests for the ball that was to go before the wedding were already flocking to the gate from all directions, and the wicked woman had to punch, stab, and poison several noblemen before she finally reached the doors to the Prince's home.

"Good evening, madam," said the liveried man at the gate.

"Good evening." The wicked woman made a graceful curtsy. "May I gain entrance to the Royal Palace, please?"

"Of course, madam. Only show me your invitation, and I will admit you at once."

"Oh..." The wicked woman gave him a regretful smile. "I am afraid I don't have an invitation. But I'm a very close personal friend of the Prince, and I simply must get in."

"I am afraid that I cannot allow you to enter without an invitation, madam."

"In that case," the wicked woman sighed, "eat steel, dogface!"

And she rammed a dagger into his heart

"Argh!" said the guard.

"You're welcome," said the wicked woman.

"Grgl," said the guard and collapsed.

"You're lucky I don't have time for a snack," the wicked woman informed the crumpled body as she stepped over him. "I'm in a hurry today!"

She entered the Royal Palace and, following the stench of money, power, and envy, soon reached the feast hall where the best and brightest of the kingdom were assembled. The bride and groom were sitting at the head of the royal table, laughing, eating, and, most importantly, drinking. It was the work of a moment for the wicked woman to clobber a serving girl over the head, pull her behind a column, and divest her of her clothes. In that disguise, she approached the Prince and put three drops of the magic potion into the goblet that rested on the table in front of him.

"Your Royal Highness?" she whispered.

"Hmm?" The prince murmured. He didn't look up. He was too busy gazing adoringly at that little wench of a kitchen maid who had the gall to be sitting beside him, wearing a crown!

"A toast," the girl proposed with a silly little smile. "To our happiness!"

The Prince nodded and raised his goblet. "To our happiness!"

And he threw back his drink.

The wicked woman cleared her throat. "Your Highness?"

"Yes, what is it?" the prince growled irritably.

"Look here!"

The Prince looked up, met her gaze, and—

Well, you can probably imagine the rest.

Everything worked like a charm—in the literal sense of the word. The Prince fell instantly in love with the wicked woman. Suddenly, he didn't seem to take umbrage at the giant wart on her nose anymore and instantly declared that he would marry none but her. Since his former bride was luckily still a virgin, he had her shipped off to the dragonlands for immediate disposal and married the wicked woman later that day. When the time-honored words "You may kiss the bride" rang out through the royal chapel, the warty-nosed bride grabbed the groom by the ears and kissed him senseless. Several people in the audience were moved to tears, especially the king, queen, and wedding planner, who couldn't seem to stop sobbing.

After the guests had departed, the Prince lifted up his bride in his arms.

"Come, my love." His brilliant eyes burned into hers. "It is time!"

And he carried her up to their bedchamber in the highest tower of his castle, where all her wildest dreams came true—in spite of the fact that she didn't sleep a single minute that night.

And they lived happily ever after?

Well, not quite, unfortunately. They lived happily for a few weeks. It was the usual marriage problems that got in their way. Children were one thing they argued about constantly. The Prince wanted a son to follow in his footsteps, and two little girls to be the pride and joy of the kingdom. The wicked woman wanted a son as main course and two little girls as dessert. Then there was the money. The prince wanted to raise taxes. The wicked woman couldn't see the point of taking some of the people's money away when you could just take it all, kill them, and be done with it. Although she agreed that some would have to be left alive to be terrorized and eaten. And then, of course, there was work.

"But do you really have to, darling?" the Prince pleaded.

"Yes!" the wicked woman said firmly.

"But it's not appropriate for a princess such as yourself!"

"Aha! I knew it all along! You bloody chauvinist! You think that, just because I am a woman, I shouldn't have the right to follow my dreams, is that it?"

"No! I just don't think that head torturer is a very appropriate job for a royal princess!"

"None of us can help the way we're made. We each must follow our dreams!"

"Yes, darling, but—"

And so it went on and on. Of course, the Prince still loved the wicked woman desperately. He would have done anything to please her and would have been happy to stay married to her for the rest of his days. So, theoretically, they should have had a happily ever after, right?

There was just one problem: the wicked woman didn't feel quite the same. After two months of the grueling agony that was her happily ever after, she had enough and called an old friend of her.

"Good morning. Thank you for calling Grim, Graul & Slimeball LLP, the most wicked lawyers in Fairyland. How may we help you grind your enemies to dust?"

"Hello. I'd like to speak to Jack, please."

"Mr. Slimeball is in a meeting at the moment. May I take a message?"

"Yes, tell him his old friend from the Satanic Sabbath called, and she has a big case. A royal divorce."

"Royal?" The secretary's voice nearly sounded delirious with delight. "Of course, ma'am! I'll be sure to let Mr. Slimeball know the moment his meeting is over."

Now, this little tale could be continued by giving a detailed account of the following lawsuit. But since that would take about three thousand seven hundred sixty-seven pages in extremely fine print, we'll skip over all that and keep it short: the wicked woman won.

But was she happy?

No.

She had loved the Prince, once, after all. Even if she couldn't exactly remember why by now, she had once dearly loved that disgusting turd, and her heart was broken. What was half a kingdom in alimonies compared to that? Nothing!

She needed help! She needed comfort! And who can we rely on in times of these if not our family? Thus, it was that the very next morning, the wicked woman could be seen running down the path from her palatial mansion towards the little cottage of her sister. (The one whose daughter she had eaten. But you can't let a little thing like that stand in the way of sisterly love, can you?)

"I thought he really loved me," sobbed the wicked woman. "All I asked of him was a little torture and cannibalism! A little freedom to spread my own reign of terror over his kingdom and massacre his subjects! Is that too much to ask?"

"No, of course not, dear," cooed the younger sister, patting her sibling on her mangy mane.

"Men are all such bastards! They trick you into making them fall in love with you, and then, when you've forced them into marriage, they can't stick with their commitment! Let me tell you something, little sister: never marry! Men are bastards!"

"There, there. Have a piece of child's foot. It'll make you feel better."

*********

After a while, the wicked woman consoled herself to her dour fate as an incredibly rich, independent single woman. However, as inevitably happens with heroines who have younger relatives, her fate is not the end of this little tale.

Sometime after the wicked woman had gotten her divorce, another royal Prince visited the city. This was the elder brother of the first Prince, and he was much more handsome and royal than his brother. Unlike his brother, this prince hadn't come to town to force shoes onto people's feet, but was looking for a high tower with girl's hair hanging out of the window. Why exactly he was doing this wasn't entirely clear, but neither is it really pertinent to our story. What matters is that, one day, as the prince was standing under the highest tower in the city, hoping for girl's hair to fall out of the window. And just in that moment, the younger (and extremely wicked) sister of the wicked woman came by on her way to the market to snatch children. The moment she saw the Prince, she forgot all about roasted earlobes and tasty toes and fell hopelessly in love with him.

The moment her elder sister heard of this, she vehemently counseled the foolish young woman to think better of it.

"Marrying a prince is never a good idea," she urged, while three muscular, good-looking men fanned her with palm leaves while a fourth expertly massaged her back. "Look at me—lonely and unhappy, with only a few tons of gold coins and dozens of bed slaves to comfort me in my lonely existence. You can't wish such a joyless life on yourself, can you?"

But no amount of good arguments would persuade the younger sister. So her older sister finally gave her blessing.

"All right, all right! Marry him!"

"It's not that easy," the younger wicked woman said sadly. "First I have to rob him of his will and make him my willing slave."

"Oh, right. Well, here's the address of the wicked witch who helped me. I'll let her know you'll be coming."

The younger wicked woman perked up. "You really think she'd help?"

"If it's for an evil cause? Of course she will! Especially if I tell her it's for my little sister. Don't worry. She'll have a love potion ready for you."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much, sis!"

The younger wicked woman was just as determined as her older sister. So she embarked on her perilous quest, and, after countless dangers and more than seven hundred sixty-six near scrapes with death, she returned from the Wicked Witch of the South-South-East with a little bottle of love-potion, glowing in a nasty shade of neon green. It was a comparatively simple matter to walk up to the prince while he was gazing open-mouthed in front of a tower, staring at a strand of golden hair hanging out of the window, and jab a hypodermic syringe filled with the potion into his royal behind.

"Ouch!"

"Pardon, Your Highness."

"How dare you, you mangy hag! Don't you know who...I...ardlfsmpldgrrrrg..."

"What were you saying, Your Majesty?"

"Good God! You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life! Will you marry me?"

"Hm...let me think about it...yes!"

Soon, news of the happy wedding of the Prince were spread by royal heralds in all the towns and villages of the kingdom. But alas, the wicked woman was not a lot more successful in married life than her older sibling had been. There were simply too many problems. First of all, there was her cooking. The wicked woman was a housewifely little creature, and she did her best to cook delicious meals for her new husband. But, although he loved her desperately, he simply could not show the proper appreciation for her Bratfoot Pie and Child Tartare. Then there were his outrageous opinions on other women and exclusivity. No matter how much the wicked woman explained her need for extended sexual orgies, the Prince could simply not understand and insisted they remain exclusive. How could he! Hadn't he promised to love and support her?

It all ended as it inevitably had to: with a non-happily ever after. But, instead of going through all the trouble of divorcing her husband, the second woman kept it simple and just killed, cooked, and ate him. With a little sugar and strawberry cream, he turned out to be a lot sweeter in death than he had ever been in life. Plus, this way she got all of his money, not just half.

These cautionary examples should have been enough to keep the third and youngest sister of our two previous heroines from following a similar path to desolation. But, as fate would have it, the last—and most handsome!—son of the king came to town looking for sleeping girls covered in thorns and roses. He was just visiting one of the florists in town when the youngest wicked woman—seventeen years of age, so more of a wicked girl, really—walked in, wanting to purchase some mandrakes, hemlock, and belladonna. The moment she beheld his scrumptious Highness, she knew that he was the love of her life and would be great fun under the sheets. But she had even more warts on her nose than her sisters and knew there were only three ways she was ever going to get him into her bed: sudden madness, a love potion, or a hard knock over the head.

The youngest wicked woman went home and considered her options. Of course, she could have embarked upon a perilous quest to distant lands and begged a love potion from the Wicked Witch of the South-South-East. However, our youngest heroine was considerably smarter than her older siblings. So instead, she embarked on a short walk to the best wedding planner in town.

Ding-dong.

The fairy behind the counter looked up with a smile as the wicked girl entered. "Welcome to Fairyflower & Co, Luxury Wedding and Event Planner. How may I help you?"

"I was wondering, do you per chance have any love potions stocked?"

The fairy smiled even more brightly and fluttered her little sparkly wings. "Oh, certainly, Miss! We have Forever Yours No.1, With All My Heart No.5, Deadly Desire—that one is for necrophiliacs—and Eternal Love No. 3."

"I'll take one bottle of Forever Yours, please."

"Certainly, Miss. Please note that whoever drinks it will fall in love with the first person he or she looks at. We don't give guarantees against mixups. Should I giftwrap it for you?"

"No, thanks. I'll be using it. And..."

"Yes?"

"Do you have any info material on wedding dresses?"

"Certainly, Miss! What budget are you aiming for?"

"Money is no object. I'm marrying a prince."

With her most important purchase—the potion—tucked away in her handbag and the rest sent off to her house on credit, the youngest sister went back to the florist, where the Prince was still lifting roses to check if there was a sleeping, enchanted girl underneath. Clearing her throat, the wicked girl approached the Prince.

"Your Highness? Are you looking for something?"

"Yes. A girl. But I don't seem to be able to find her."

"Have you considered that she might be there, but that you simply can't see her?"

"You mean she's...invisible?"

"In a manner of speaking."

The Prince looked impressed. "Dear God! What am I supposed to do?"

The wicked girl pulled out the vial from her handbag. "Drink this. I guarantee it'll improve your sight."

"If I drink this, I'll find a girl under the roses?"

"Oh yes, you'll definitely find a girl. Really quickly, too."

"Thank you so much! That is so kind of you."

The prince took a deep gulp, and...

"Grrx!"

"Something the matter, Your Highness?"

"Oh...my dear..."

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life!"

"True."

"Will you marry me?"

The wicked girl smiled. "If you insist."

To keep things short and sweet: the Prince and the wicked girl had a wild, tempestuous courtship of about a day and a half, and, as soon as a wedding had been put together, they were married, to the great happiness of one and all (except the groom's parents, the wedding guests, and the general populace). Not long after the ceremony was completed, the happy couple withdrew to the bridal suite.

Now, you might think that the youngest sister's life took the same abysmal course as that of her older siblings. But, as mentioned above, the youngest was considerably more intelligent than the other two wicked sisters. And because she was more intelligent and understood human nature a lot better than her sisters, just before she joined her husband in the bridal bed, she pulled another bottle of Forever Yours No.1 out of her pocket, uncorked it, and drank every last drop. Then she looked long and hard at her husband.

"Is something wrong, darling?" he asked.

The wicked girl smiled. "No. Everything is perfect. I love you. I'll love you forever and ever and ever."

"So will I," he told her and kissed the big wart on the end of her nose.

And they lived happily ever after. Guaranteed.

And the moral of the story is: always hire an expert wedding planner.

Or, another moral is: husbands can be sweet, if properly cooked.

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My dear Lords, Ladies & Wicked Witches,

I truly hope you liked the seventh story of "WARNING! Fairy Tales". In case you'd like to get your hands on more fabulously crazy fairy tales straight away, there are a number of things you could do:

To begin with, if you have a bit of coin to spend and would like to support my  continued writing of fairy tales, you can do so by buying the paperback version  of  "WARNING! Fairy Tales" in three volumes (with THREE EXTRA TALES EACH that you aren't available on Wattpad) either at Amazon or via the general book trade at your local book shop. The additional tales are also available to purchase in the Tapas App, a reading app somewhat similar to Wattpad, except that on Tapas, readers can their favorite authors by donating a little bit of money per chapter. Every single cent you spend on my stories supports my continued writing by keeping me supplied with ink, pens, paper, and various other necessities of a writer's everyday life, so I can go on scribbling more fabulously crazy fairy tales for you and once again take you on a magical journey straight into Fairyland. Thank you very much, everyone, for your wonderful support!

Secondly,if you cannot access or afford the published version of "WARNING! Fairy Tales" for some reason, there are a number of other things you can do if you want to help: for instance, if you just continue on to the next installment here on Wattpad - a poll-installment which I posted for the express purpose of asking your opinion, and help me choose the next few stories I'm going to rewrite! That way you yourself can make suggestions for stories for my next anthology of fairy tales, and maybe one of your proposals will be picked! :-) I've had lots of fun writing stories such as "Coal Black" & "The Fishy Little Mermaid" up until now, and the feedback I have received from you, my fabulous fans, has been simply marvelous. So if enough of you are interested in a 2nd volume, I'm definitely up for writing more tales! :-)

In this poll-chapter, you'll be able to pick your favorite stories from a list of well-known fairy tales that I will be including, or you can just post suggestions of your own for various fairy tales if you know some interesting ones that are not on my list. The tales you suggest can be local stories, legends and/or myths, or anything like that. Oh, and incidentally, you might not only want to suggest stories that you really like, but also ones that you really hate - because there's nothing I love more than making fun of silly stories and fictional characters! ;-)

I will sit deep down in my writing dungeon, waiting for your fabulous suggestions! The most interesting ones  shall be chosen, collected, and, after a short period of research, I will use them to make more new, wonderfully crazy fairy tales. I very much look forward to seeing what great suggestions you'll come up with! ;-)

Keep your ideas ready!

Yours Truly

Sir Rob (brewer of devious love potions)

P.S.:

Oh, and incidentally: if you are wondering which fairy tale "Wicked Weddings" happens to be based on - it is, in fact, not based on one individual story. Instead, it was inspired by the so-called literary "Rule of Three", a principle that says any element of a story is more memorable & interesting if there's three of them. This principle is why you always encounter three bears with Goldilocks, three little pigs about to be devoured by the big, bad wolf, and three princes who attempt to rescue a princess, with only the youngest one succeeding at the end. But I've got to admit that, in the above tale, I took a few liberties with the usual interpretation  of this literary principle. ;-)