holds a feathered felt hat; the other is hidden behind his back.
He’s definitely an improvement in the man-department over What’s-His-Name. His deep-set eyes are gray-blue like the sea, and a shadow of a beard lines his tan, weathered skin. Plus, he has the most fabulous hair I’ve ever seen--at least, on a man. Thick, black, glossy hair that grazes his shoulders and makes me miss mine. He catches me staring at him and winks. I pretend not to see it.
“This is James Hook,” says Grimm.
“ Captain James Hook,” the man corrects with an air of arrogance. “King of the Pirates.”
“Are you sure you’re a king? You don’t look like one to me,” says Sasperilla, eying him from head to toe. Elzmerelda, flushed, also stares at him.
“Yo, Ho, Ho!” cackles the pirate. “I’m a legend. Ask anyone.”
Yeah, a legend in his own mind. He’s so full of himself.
“Group, today we are going to join hands to connect with one and other,” says Grimm.
Another waste-of-time activity.
“Who would like to hold Hook’s hand?”
Our eyes dart from one to another. Elzmerelda takes a step forward, then hesitates.
“Fine. I’ll do it,” says Sasperilla as if she’s doing us all a big favor.
“The pleasure is mine.” Holding out his hat, Hook bows graciously and offers the skinny bitch his hand. The one he’s kept hidden behind his back.
“Aagh!” Sasperilla jumps back. “I’m not holding that!”
My mouth drops. Hook’s hand is not a hand. It’s an iron claw!
“You poor thing! What happened to your hand?” asks Winnie.
Hook ignores her. His eyes linger on places of my body he has no right staring at. I want to take that hook and hang him by his eyeballs.
Grimm repeats, “Who would like to hold Hook’s hand?”
Again, there’s silence. No one volunteers. Hook keeps leering at me. Forget it! I’m not going near him. Finally, What’s-His-Name teeters over to him. Except he takes the swine’s good hand.
“I’ll hold his other hand,” says Elzmerelda bravely. She blushes as she wraps her long, spidery fingers around the pirate’s grotesque hook.
“Thank you, Elzmerelda,” says Grimm, stepping away. “Now, I’d like the rest of you to join in please and form a circle.”
I move next to Elzmerelda, and Winifred next to me. That leaves Sasperilla who’s forced to stand between Winifred and What’s-His-Name.
“Why do I always get stuck next to him ?” Skinny Bitch grumbles.
What’s-His-Name squeezes her bony hand so hard she winces. He’s growing on me. I can’t say the same about Hook.
Standing diagonally across from me, he shoots me a smirk. I give him my signature scornful stare, the one I perfected in my magic mirror--cold, distant, and belittling. Instead of getting my message, he purses his lips and blows me a kiss.
The boar! He reminds me of the creeps my mother would bring home. The thought sends a shiver to the base of my spine. He had better stay away from me. Far away!
“Who would like to share today?” asks Grimm, standing in the middle of our circle.
Elzmerelda, breaking loose of my grip, raises her hand halfway. “I’ve always wanted to meet a real pirate.” She gazes dreamily at Hook.
“Why is that?” asks Grimm.
“To go on an adventure and sail the high seas.” She takes hold of my hand again.
“That’s really brave,” interjects Winifred.
“Winifred, you seem to admire bravery,” says Grimm. “Often, the qualities we admire in others are the very traits we lack and covet in ourselves.”
Bravery is sure not my problem. If that pirate doesn’t stop ogling me, I swear I’m going to yank off his hook and whack him with it. And I know exactly where.
Dr. Grimm presses on. “So, Elzmerelda, why do you want to go on a high seas adventure?”
“I’ve always wanted to get away.” Her palm is suddenly cold and clammy.
“From whom?” asks Grimm.
Silence. Elzmerelda’s bravery has melted into fear.
Sasperilla
He’s definitely an improvement in the man-department over What’s-His-Name. His deep-set eyes are gray-blue like the sea, and a shadow of a beard lines his tan, weathered skin. Plus, he has the most fabulous hair I’ve ever seen--at least, on a man. Thick, black, glossy hair that grazes his shoulders and makes me miss mine. He catches me staring at him and winks. I pretend not to see it.
“This is James Hook,” says Grimm.
“ Captain James Hook,” the man corrects with an air of arrogance. “King of the Pirates.”
“Are you sure you’re a king? You don’t look like one to me,” says Sasperilla, eying him from head to toe. Elzmerelda, flushed, also stares at him.
“Yo, Ho, Ho!” cackles the pirate. “I’m a legend. Ask anyone.”
Yeah, a legend in his own mind. He’s so full of himself.
“Group, today we are going to join hands to connect with one and other,” says Grimm.
Another waste-of-time activity.
“Who would like to hold Hook’s hand?”
Our eyes dart from one to another. Elzmerelda takes a step forward, then hesitates.
“Fine. I’ll do it,” says Sasperilla as if she’s doing us all a big favor.
“The pleasure is mine.” Holding out his hat, Hook bows graciously and offers the skinny bitch his hand. The one he’s kept hidden behind his back.
“Aagh!” Sasperilla jumps back. “I’m not holding that!”
My mouth drops. Hook’s hand is not a hand. It’s an iron claw!
“You poor thing! What happened to your hand?” asks Winnie.
Hook ignores her. His eyes linger on places of my body he has no right staring at. I want to take that hook and hang him by his eyeballs.
Grimm repeats, “Who would like to hold Hook’s hand?”
Again, there’s silence. No one volunteers. Hook keeps leering at me. Forget it! I’m not going near him. Finally, What’s-His-Name teeters over to him. Except he takes the swine’s good hand.
“I’ll hold his other hand,” says Elzmerelda bravely. She blushes as she wraps her long, spidery fingers around the pirate’s grotesque hook.
“Thank you, Elzmerelda,” says Grimm, stepping away. “Now, I’d like the rest of you to join in please and form a circle.”
I move next to Elzmerelda, and Winifred next to me. That leaves Sasperilla who’s forced to stand between Winifred and What’s-His-Name.
“Why do I always get stuck next to him ?” Skinny Bitch grumbles.
What’s-His-Name squeezes her bony hand so hard she winces. He’s growing on me. I can’t say the same about Hook.
Standing diagonally across from me, he shoots me a smirk. I give him my signature scornful stare, the one I perfected in my magic mirror--cold, distant, and belittling. Instead of getting my message, he purses his lips and blows me a kiss.
The boar! He reminds me of the creeps my mother would bring home. The thought sends a shiver to the base of my spine. He had better stay away from me. Far away!
“Who would like to share today?” asks Grimm, standing in the middle of our circle.
Elzmerelda, breaking loose of my grip, raises her hand halfway. “I’ve always wanted to meet a real pirate.” She gazes dreamily at Hook.
“Why is that?” asks Grimm.
“To go on an adventure and sail the high seas.” She takes hold of my hand again.
“That’s really brave,” interjects Winifred.
“Winifred, you seem to admire bravery,” says Grimm. “Often, the qualities we admire in others are the very traits we lack and covet in ourselves.”
Bravery is sure not my problem. If that pirate doesn’t stop ogling me, I swear I’m going to yank off his hook and whack him with it. And I know exactly where.
Dr. Grimm presses on. “So, Elzmerelda, why do you want to go on a high seas adventure?”
“I’ve always wanted to get away.” Her palm is suddenly cold and clammy.
“From whom?” asks Grimm.
Silence. Elzmerelda’s bravery has melted into fear.
Sasperilla
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