Hans and Greta
A Modern-Day, Magical Realist, Erotic Retelling of Hansel and Gretel
By, Venus Wille
Original Passages and Adaptation Copyright 2018 Venus Wille
Select passages and images taken from Grimm’s Fairy Stories, which is in the Public Domain
Hans and Greta
Once upon a time there was near a large city a small cooking supply wholesaler, with his sales, marketing, and operations managers and their staffs. On the sales staff were two employees, betrothed to others, but who yearned for one another, a young man named Hans and a young woman named Greta. Their cooking supply business was being overshadowed by Amazon and the wholesaler did not have enough sales income to support all of his staff. Once, when the company stock had hit an all-time low, he could not make even the semi-monthly payroll without mortgaging his primary residence; and as he worried aloud in a management meeting one evening, biting his nails for trouble, he sighed, and said to his management team,
“What will become of us? How can we pay our employees, when we have no more than we can live on ourselves?”
“Know, then, my boss,” answered the sales Manager, “I have 2 expendable staffers who spend all of their time flirting. I will lead them away, quite early in the morning, into the thickest part of the city, and there make give a pitch to an impossible prospect in a contest with better competitors; then we will watch them fail tremendously, giving us cause to terminate, and we shall be freed from them.”
“No, sales manager,” replied the wholesaler, “that I can never do. How can you bring your heart to treat your own staff that way, leaving them for the competition tear them to pieces?”
“Oh, you simpleton!” said the sales manager, “then we must all go under; you had better find a bankruptcy attorney.”
But the sales manager left the wholesaler no peace till he consented, saying,
“Ah, but I shall regret the poor children,” he called them children for they were young and sweet and reminded the wholesaler of the children that he and his partner were never able to adopt.
Hans and Greta, however, had not left the office yet for, worried about their jobs, they had been putting in overtime, Hans overheard the sales manager’s machinations and shared them with Greta. Greta wept bitterly, and said to Hans,
“What will become of us?”
“Be quiet, Greta,” said he; “do not cry— I will soon help you.”
And as soon as their employer and management staff had left for the night, he broke into the sales manager’s office to research the impossible prospect that they were to face the next day, learning of the prospect what the sales manager knew. The moon shone brilliantly when he left and he sent a text message to Greta, saying,
“Be comforted, dear colleague, and sleep in peace.” And so saying, he went to bed, all the while thinking of Greta and her large, soft bottom as he made love to his thin, vapid fiancé.
The next morning, before the sales team meeting, the sales manager went the the cubicles of the two youngest employees.
“Get up, you lazy things; we are going into the city to get some business.” Then she gave them each a slim file, saying,
“There is something for your sales pitch; do not use up all of these talking points before the time, for you will get nothing else. The big boss is coming today and if you lose this sale you will lose your jobs.” Greta took the files in her bag, for Hans’s bag was full of his notes from the night before; and so they all set out upon their way.
“Ah, boss,” said Hans, “I am looking at the white cat sitting upon the roof of the warehouse and trying to say good-bye.”
“You simpleton!” said the wife, “that is not a cat; it is only the sun shining on the white chimney.”
But in reality Hans was not looking at a cat; but every time he stopped, he sent a text message to his friend in the city.
When they came to the middle of the city, the wholesaler told the youngest employees to prepare their pitches, and he would introduce them to the prospect, so that it should not be a cold open. So Hans and Greta gathered together to discuss their plans. Then sales manager said,
“Now, you children, sit here in the waiting room, and rest yourselves, while we go into the office and warm up this lead; when we are ready, I will come and call you.”
Hans and Greta sat down in the waiting room, and when it was noon, each got out their file; and because they could hear muffled laughter from behind the door, they thought their employer wholesaler was near: but it was not their employer, it was someone’s ringtone. They waited so long that at last their eyes closed from weariness, and they fell fast asleep. When they awoke, it was quite dark for the energy saving lights had turned out, and Greta began to cry,
“How shall we get out of this predicament?”
But Hans tried to comfort her by saying, “Wait a little while, I will set off the motion detector lights and then we will quickly find the way.”
The lights soon shone forth and a knock came at the outside door. When Hans answered it, it was his friend whom he had texted, holding a special gift for the prospect that was rare and perfect and spoke to the deepest desires in the prospect’s heart. And Hans, taking Greta’s soft hand, pulled out his fat file of notes and confidently knocked on the door to the office of the prospect. He followed the notes, which guided him like a map into the heart and mind of the prospect, and showed them the path. All afternoon long they pitched on, and as evening broke they came to a deal. The sales manager and the wholesaler both knocked at the door, for they had abandoned their staffers to make them look stupid to the prospect, and when the new client opened it, and saw then standing there, she exclaimed,
“You wicked wholesalers! why did you keep these charming reps from me so long? I thought we were never doing business again until I met these two.”
But their employer wholesaler was very glad, for it had grieved his heart to leave them all alone.
Not long afterward there was again great scarcity in every corner of the land; and one night the youngest employees overheard their sales manager saying to their employer,
“Everything is again consumed; we have only half a deal, and then the song is ended: the children must be sent away. We will take them deeper into the city, so that they may not find the way out again; it is the only means of escape for us.”
But her boss felt heavy at heart, and thought, “It were better to share the last dollar with the children.” His sales manager, however, would listen to nothing that he said, and scolded and reproached him without end.
He who says A must say B too; and he who consents the first time must also the second.
The youngest employees, however, had heard the conversation as worked late into the night, and as soon as the old people went home Hans got up, intending to pick up some intel as before; but the sales manager had locked the door, so that he could not get in. Nevertheless, he comforted Greta, saying,
“Do not cry; sleep in quiet; the good God will not forsake us.”
Early in the morning the sales manager came and pulled them out of their cubicals, and gave them each a thin file, which was still smaller than the former files. On the way, Hans, stooping every now and then, texted a picture of the documents to his friend in the city.
“Hans, why do you stop and look about?” said the employer wholesaler; “keep in the path.”
“I am looking at a little pigeon,” answered Hans, “nodding a good-bye to me.”
“Simpleton!” said the sales manager, “that is no dove, but only the sun shining on the chimney.”
But Hans still kept texting pictures as he went along.
The sales manager led the youngest employees deep into the city, where they had never been before, and there making an immense fuss, she said to them,
“Sit down here and rest, and when you feel tired you can sleep for a little while. We are going into the office to warm up the lead, and in the afternoon, when we are ready, we will come and fetch you.”
When noon came Greta shared her notes with Hans. Then they went to sleep; but the afternoon arrived and no one came to visit the poor youngest employees, and in the dark winter afternoon they awoke, and Hans comforted his coworker by saying,
“Only wait, Greta, till my friend has completed his research, then we shall see the crumbs of information that we need to make the sale, and they will show us the way home.” The lights shone and they got up, but they did not receive any crumbs from his friend, for the friend’s cell phone had fallen into a puddle in the street and was waterlogged. The prospect, more impossible than the first, summoned them into the room for their sales pitch and again their bosses had abandoned them.
With his eyes, Hans kept saying to Greta,
“We will soon find the way”; but they did not, and they pitched the whole afternoon and into the evening, but still they did not make the sale; and they got so hungry, for they had nothing to eat but the berries which they found upon the bushes outside of their office building. Soon they got so tired that they could not drag themselves along, so they left the office building and, upon finding a tree, lay down under it and went to sleep.
It was now the third morning since they had left their employer’s warehouse, and they still pitched on, not wanting to return to the warehouse without a new client for they knew that that would mean the end of their jobs. But they only got deeper and deeper into the city, and Hans saw that if help did not come very soon they would die of hunger.
At about noonday they saw a beautiful snow-white bird sitting upon a bough, which sang so sweetly that they stood still and listened to it. It soon ceased, and spreading its wings flew off; and they followed it until it arrived at a cottage, upon the roof of which it perched; and when they went close up to it they saw that the cottage was made of bread and cakes, and the window-panes were of clear sugar.
“We will go into this place,” said Hans, “and have a feast. I will eat a piece of the roof, and you can eat the window. Will they not be sweet?” So Hans reached up and broke a piece off the roof, in order to see how it tasted, while Greta stepped up to the window and began to bite it.
Then a sweet voice called out in the room, “Tip-tap, tip-tap, who raps at my door?” and the children answered,
“the wind, the wind, the child of heaven”; and they went on eating without interruption. Hans thought the roof tasted very nice, so he tore off a great piece; while Greta broke a large round pane out of the window, and sat down quite contentedly.
Just then the door opened, and a very old woman, walking upon crutches, came out. Hans and Greta were so frightened that they let fall what they had in their hands; but the old woman, nodding her head, said,
“Ah, you dear children, what has brought you here? Come in and stop with me, and no harm shall befall you”; and so saying she took them both by the hand, and led them into her cottage. A good meal of milk and pancakes, with sugar, apples, and nuts, was spread on the table, and in the back room were two nice little beds, covered with white, where Hans and Greta laid themselves down, and thought themselves in heaven.
The old woman behaved very kindly to them, but in reality she was a wicked witch who waylaid young people, and built the bread-house in order to entice them in, but as soon as they were in her power she killed them, cooked and ate them, and made a great festival of the day.
Witches have red eyes, and cannot see very far; but they have a fine sense of smelling, like wild beasts, so that they know when fresh young things approach them. When Hans and Greta came near the witch’s house she laughed wickedly, saying,
“Here come two who shall not escape me.”
In the night as they slept in the beautiful beds, Hans and Greta at once allowed themselves to follow their hearts for their appetites had been satisfied and they simply lay in one another’s arms in Greta’s small bed. Both of their fiancés had broken up with them by text after receiving notification that they were no longer employed. And early in the morning, before they awoke, she went up to them, and saw how lovingly they lay sleeping, with their chubby red cheeks, and she mumbled to herself,
“That will be a good bite.”
Then she took up Hans with her rough hands, and shut him up in a little cage with a lattice-door; and although he screamed loudly it was of no use. Greta came next, and, shaking her till she awoke, the witch said,
“Get up, you lazy thing, and fetch some water to cook something good for your friend, who must remain in that stall and get fat; when he is fat enough I shall eat him.”
Greta began to cry, but it was all useless, for the old witch made her do as she wished. So a nice meal was cooked for Hans, but Greta got nothing but a crab’s claw.
Every morning the old witch came to the cage and said,
“Hans, stretch out your finger that I may feel whether you are getting fat.” But Hans used to stretch out a bone, and the old woman, having very bad sight, thought it was his finger, and wondered very much that he did not get fatter.
When four weeks had passed, and Hans still kept quite lean, she lost all her patience, and would not wait any longer.
“Greta,” she called out in a passion, “get some water quickly; be Hans fat or lean, this morning I will kill and cook him.” Oh, how the poor little Greta grieved, as she was forced to fetch the water, and fast the tears ran down her cheeks!
“Dear good God, help us now!” she exclaimed. “Had we only been eaten by the wild beasts in the park, then we should have died together.”
But the old witch called out, “Leave off that noise; it will not help you a bit.”
So early in the morning Greta was forced to go out and fill the kettle, and make a fire.
“First, we will bake, however,” said the old woman; “I have already heated the oven and kneaded the dough”; and so saying, she pushed poor Greta up to the oven, out of which the flames were burning fiercely.
“Creep in,” said the witch, “and see if it is hot enough, and then we will put in the bread”; but she intended when Greta got in to shut up the oven and let her bake, so that she might eat her as well as Hans.
Greta perceived what her thoughts were, and said, “I do not know how to do it; how shall I get in?”
“You stupid goose,” said the witch, “the opening is big enough. See, I could even get in myself!” and she got up, and put her head into the oven.
Then Greta gave her a push, so that she fell right in, and then shutting the iron door she bolted it! Oh! how horribly she howled; but Greta ran away, and left the ungodly witch to burn to ashes.
Now she ran to Hans, and, opening his door, called out,
“Hans, we are saved; the old witch is dead!”
So he sprang out, like a bird out of his cage when the door is opened; and they were so glad that they fell upon each other’s neck, and kissed each other over and over again. And Hans’s hands crept up to the alert nipples of Greta and tweaked them with frisky joy. Greta then disrobed in front of him and he beheld her roundness, softness, and beauty, for she was a large, plump figure made up of voluptuous curves. Hans’s mind consumed him with salacious thoughts and the pillar in his pants turned to marble, erect and tall beneath the thin fabric.
“I want to enter you, dear Greta,” Hans said and reached his hands between her legs where he found a great wetness unlike any he had ever known, viscous and warm.
“Take me from behind, Hans,” Greta told him as she pulled his pants to the ground. She gazed lovingly at the beautiful growth of the hair, in short and soft curls round the root of his large, hardened stem. Hans felt his penis quiver with desire as Greta’s vagina thirsted for his peasant seed.
Greta climbed down to the floor, and rested her weight evenly between her hands and her knees. Her ample bosom hung and swayed gently as her nipples pointed to the ground. She presented her round rump in the air for Han’s manhood to enter.
He pushed the full length of his hot shaft deep into her vagina. Greta and Hans gasped in delight in unison. He pushed in and out again and again. Greta held her muscles tight with pleasure for she did not want to let him go.
At last, the lovers came together in a flood of ecstasy and erotic bliss.
And now, as there was nothing to fear, they went into the witch’s house, where in every corner were caskets full of pearls and precious stones.
“These are better than files,” said Hans, putting as many into his pocket as it would hold; while Greta thought, “I will take some too,” and filled her apron full.
“We must be off now,” said Hans, “and get out of this enchanted place.”
But when they had walked for two hours they came to a large piece of water. “We cannot get over,” said Hans; “I can see no bridge at all.”
“And there is no boat, either,” said Greta; “but there swims a white duck, and I will ask her to help us over.”
And she sang:
“Little Duck, good little Duck,
Greta and Hans, here we stand;
There is neither stile nor bridge,
Take us on your back to land.”
So the duck came to them, and Hans sat himself on, and bade Greta sit behind him.
“No,” answered Greta, “that will be too much for the duck; she shall take us over one at a time.” This the good little bird did, and when both were happily arrived on the other side, and had gone a little way, they came to a well-known wood, which they knew the better every step they went, and at last they perceived their former employer’s warehouse. Then they began to run, and, bursting into the parking lot of the warehouse, they each left a hot, smelly turd on the cars of each, the employer wholesaler, for he was a craven, and the sales manager, for she was a witch.
Then all their sorrows were ended, and they lived together in great happiness.
My tale is done.