The warehouse was a sight for sore eyes – or was that a sore sight for eyes? One can never be too certain. It was built from the ground up of old brick and corrugated steel, its windows filmed over with grime and many were cracked if not outright broken. The air smelled like old oil and damp cardboard, and the only light came from a single standing lamp that bestowed a spotlight across the concrete floor. Twisted Sister sat cross-legged like a child at story time, ironic since an old and worn storybook sat open in her lap as she readied herself to read a story to the littles that she was baby sitting.
Littles she was babysitting?
Damaged dolls surrounded her like a broken little audience. Porcelain faces cracked, stuffed animals with seams split open, plastic Barbie arms bound back on with tape and staples. Some sat upright on paint cans. Some leaned in piles against an old couch with the stuffing coming out. A few were propped carefully on wooden pallets, arranged in a crescent shape on the floor.
She stroked the nearest doll’s hair with two fingers, then placed her palm flat against the book as if to quiet it. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and careful, the tone of someone reading in a room where loud sounds got punished.
Twisted Sister: Now behave. No interrupting. You’ll get your turn.
She opened the book to a page marked by a strip of faded lace, cleared her throat once, and began to read…
“THE TALE OF THE SPOILED WOLFE GIRL AND THE PRINCESS OF PLAY”
Twisted Sister: Once, in a village filled with entitlement and despair, there lived a girl who called herself Wolfe.
Twisted Sister: She was not a wolf, not truly. She had no fangs and no fur, not even any claws. She had only a voice that could rise high and eyes that always counted what other people had. From the day she learned to point, she learned to demand, and from the day she learned to demand, she learned that many grown folk would rather give her what she wanted than to deal with her screams and tantrums, which was quite fine by her.
Twisted Sister: When Wolfe Girl wanted sweetbread, she did not ask. She stamped her foot and screamed. When Wolfe Girl wanted ribbons, she did not wait. She tore them from another child’s hair and shrieked that it was unfair that the world had not already gifted them to her. When Wolfe Girl wanted attention, she did not speak kindly. She made herself a storm, and the village made itself small.
Twisted Sister: The adults spoke in quiet corners about what she had become, because adults always speak in quiet corners when they know they are too late. But Wolfe Girl had sharp ears. She listened behind doors. She listened under the windows. When the adults refused her, she did not learn restraint. She learned hatred. She began to speak badly of them. She told the other children the adults were jealous of her. She called them names she did not understand, and laughed anyway. And when the adults heard, they did what frightened adults always do. They pretended they hadn’t and indulged her anyway.
Twisted Sister: Now, beyond the village there stood a great Playhouse. It was not the kind made for children with bright paint and friendly windows. This Playhouse was built from old boards and iron nails. Some said the Playhouse had once been a palace. Some said it had once been a prison. No one went there unless they had to. But Wolfe Girl, who had never been told no, saw the Playhouse and wanted it.
Twisted Sister: She marched to the Playhouse with her chin high, making sure everyone watched. Inside the yard were toys scattered like bones. Dolls with missing eyes, rocking horses with splintered legs, tea sets chipped and stained. In the middle of it all, sitting on the steps of the Playhouse, was a princess.
Twisted Sister: “Welcome! I am Princess Twisted Sister. This is my home.”
Twisted Sister: Wolfe Girl sniffed, as if she smelled something beneath the beauty that she did not like. “Your home? Give it to me!”
Twisted Sister: Princess Twisted Sister did not argue. She only tilted her head and looked at Wolfe Girl as though she were studying a tiny insect. “You may come in. You may play.”
Twisted Sister: Wolfe Girl’s eyes brightened with greed and entitlement. “I want the biggest room!” Wolfe Girl announced. “And the best toys!”
Twisted Sister: Princess Twisted Sister was delighted and gave a soft little giggle. “You may have all of it.” Inside the Playhouse, the rooms were tall and dim. Toys sat along shelves, collecting dust. Dolls watched from rocking chairs. Wolfe Girl reached for a doll dressed in lace and velvet, but the doll’s head turned slightly beneath her fingers, as if it did not like being touched by dirty hands.
Twisted Sister: Wolfe Girl shrieked and threw it across the room. “I hate it!” She screamed. “I hate this place! I hate these toys!” She kicked a little chair. She slapped a tin soldier off a shelf. She tore a ribbon from a rag doll’s hair and waved it like a flag.
Twisted Sister: Princess Twisted Sister stood in the doorway, listening. When Wolfe Girl finished her ugly little speech, the princess clapped softly, as if she had just watched a performance. “Let us play a game!” The princess declared. “A game made just for you!”
Twisted Sister: The princess reached behind her and produced a ribbon. “Put this on.” Princess Twisted Sister said. “It will make you look even prettier.” Wolfe Girl snatched it without thanks and tied it around her own throat, because she did not understand why some gifts should be refused.
Twisted Sister: At first it was soft and loose, like a lace scarf. Then Wolfe Girl opened her mouth to complain again and the ribbon tightened. Wolfe Girl’s eyes widened. She clawed at the knot, and the ribbon tightened more. She tried to scream, because screaming was her weapon. But only a thin, pathetic sound came out, like the squeak of a toy pressed too hard.
Twisted Sister: Princess Twisted Sister watched, smiling as though she had just fixed something that had been broken. Wolfe Girl’s face reddened with rage. She stomped. She kicked. She thrashed, trying to throw a tantrum the way she always did. She began to cry like a spoiled little girl who had dropped her favorite sweetbread. She cried loud and ugly, shaking with fury and disbelief, her hands trembling.
Twisted Sister: Princess Twisted Sister crouched down until she was eye level with her. “There it is.” The princess was delighted. “That sound you make when you don’t get your way.”
Twisted Sister: Wolfe Girl’s tears spilled heavier. She tried to scream again. The ribbon tightened until her whimper became silence. “I will keep you.” The princess said, standing up. “Since you wanted to be the loudest thing in every room, I will make you the quietest.”
Twisted Sister: She reached for Wolfe Girl’s chin and turned her face toward the mirror. Wolfe Girl stared into it but the mirror did not show a girl. It showed a doll. Small. A painted smile stretching across a mouth that would never scream again. The red ribbon around her throat now looked like a decorative bow.
Twisted Sister: Wolfe Girl tried to move but her arms stayed where they had been placed. Wolfe Girl tried to cry but her eyes stayed dry. Princess Twisted Sister lifted the new doll and carried her to a shelf crowded with other dolls that had once been loud things. And there, Princess Twisted Sister set Wolfe Girl down gently among the broken beauties and repaired monsters.
Twisted Sister: The princess said “In my Playhouse, little girls who throw tantrums don’t get their way. They get put on display.”
Twisted Sister’s voice trailed off as she closed the book slowly. For a moment she sat absolutely still, surrounded by her damaged dollies. Then a giggle slipped out. She tilted her head toward the gathered toys, prepared to tell them a wonderful secret.
Twisted Sister: Cassie Wolfe is coming over to play. She’s going to stomp and cry and say it isn’t fair, because that’s what spoiled girls do when nobody cares. And in my Playhouse, the big bad Wolfe doesn’t get to huff and puff. She got to sit very still and never move again.
