Grimhilde Is in Residence

Every being likes the comfort of home. So it’s a mystery to me why many among my kind seem to prefer living in castles, even in these days. Why would one invest so much time and money at keeping a huge, draughty place warm? If you live in a castle, you are also too conspicuous. Besides, most of those noble pile of stones have a resident ghost wandering about, wailing, rattling chains and generally being a real nuisance when you try to cast spells or sleep. Besides, castles have such bad connotations, even fictitious ones like Dracula’s: you see a castle in a movie, you just know that something bad is going to happen.

It’s the case with my cousin Grimhilde. Poor thing, she never recovered from her fall, after those beastly dwarves chased her. How many times did I tell her to hide that mirror? Magic mirrors are liars, tricksters and unreliable too, just like genies. Once I met a woman who found a genie and, as her first wish, she asked to be able to eat as a pig and never put weight on. Punctually, the genie turned her into a slim swine. She wasted her second wish to have him turn her back as she was before. I don’t really know what happened with her third wish.

Let’s not digress… Grimhilde married a millionaire and she acquired a step-daughter. They never got on. Then, the despicable girl run away and went to live with a rock band composed of seven dwarves. Those little monsters chased Grimhilde nearly to her death when she went to reclaim her step-daughter at their appalling concert.

My cousin still lives in her castle, which she got as settlement with her divorce. She just sits there, eating apples and she goes on a bit when I visit. I do tell her to downsize, to put the past behind and start dating again but she seems to be willing to wallow in her misery. I must think of a cunning plan to help her, she’s family after all…