Rapunzel R. Rapunzel

Rapunzel R. Rapunzel
had mighty long
mighty beautiful
locks.

Rapunzel R. Rapunzel
though grew weary of
the care routine
required to maintain
her magnificent long
hair, not to mention
it hurt like a motherfucker
whenever the witch
used her golden plaits
like a damned cherry picker.

Attempting a quiet show of defiance
Rapunzel R. Rapunzel
lopped her locks with
two deft swipes of a rumbling
12” McCollough chainsaw.

For the sake of argument,
we won’t question where our
young heroine procured a
12” McCollough chainsaw,
though I hear tell there was
and remains to this day an
active black market in chain saws
among the elves in a nearby forest.

Back to our story…
of course, the keen eared witch
heard the noise and noticed the
blue two stroke
engine smoke twisting
from the window of her
darling daughter’s cold water
flat.

In a spazzing panic, she
rushed up the fire escape.
Of course, she never bothered to tell
Rapunzel R. Rapunzel about
the fire escape. She rather preferred
climbing up and rappelling down
the child’s hair, besides it
reiterated her power over
the young babe.

So…anyway…the Witch burst
through a previously locked and barred door.

A question escaped from her lips,
“What have you done?” just as Rapunzel R. Rapunzel
split her from hat tip to butt crack
with her now trusty 12” McCollough chainsaw.

Strangely, the witch didn’t bleed much,
so Rapunzel R. Rapunzel felt no need to
spruce up. She checked her new butch ‘do
in the mirror, smiled and hurried down the
fire escape skipping every other step.

At the bottom,
she was waylaid by a handsome
young Prince who asked, “Art you
the beautiful Rapunzel?
Who I have traveled lo’
these many miles to see
and from an evil Witch free?”

Rapunzel R. Rapunzel smiled
and said, “Nah dude, I’m her
wicked witch mother guardian.
Rapunzel is up in the tower.
I gotta split, feel free to head up
there.”

Seeing how closely cropped,
the young woman’s hair was,
the Prince believed her every word
and began to sprint up the fire escape.

Rapunzel R. Rapunzel
shook her head, mumbled “Sucker”
and walked toward a nearby copse of trees.
She found the shiny new
Harley stashed among a tangle
of briar and blackberry, just as the Troll
had promised. She pushed her Hog into
the open, kicked it over once. It roared,
rumbled and then smoothed into a low
growling idle.

She hesitated, was that screaming
she heard over the harsh rumble of
the chromed straight pipes?

“Oh yeah…” she smirked,
pointed her front tire to the West,
dropped the clutch
and set the beast free.