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Apropos the Day: A Fairy Tale
„Mr. Gold“, Henry asked, because „Gramps“ was David, and „Rumpelstilskin“ somehow seemed too familiar, “what’s your take on Scottish independence?”
“Why on earth should I care?” his grandfather replied. He’d been in a bad mood ever since Belle had discovered his latest lie, which somehow resulted in Rumpelstilskin moving in with Henry’s other grandparents. The dubious reasoning for this that he wanted David constantly available for relationship advice.
“Well, aren’t you…I mean, your accent is Scottish! I can tell! I heard it on tv when they showed Doctor Who. “
Rumpelstilskin did not look impressed. However, his glare had yet to affect Henry.
“I mean, I know you’re not from this Scotland, but surely you’re from fairy tale Scotland! The one with Mel Gibson?”
“Do not mention this name to me”, Rumpelstilskin replied. His 28 years as Mr. Gold had included having to track down people unwilling to fulfill their debts even when they were hiding in Storybrooke’s lone cinema when it showed the man in question attempting what sounded like a parody of Gold’s own voice.
But Henry was unstoppable. “I bet all the Scottish fairy tales are real, too. So does Nessie get a vote? There’s a Nessie, right?”
Rumpelstilskin decided to be generous. After all, this was his grandson, and he used to have a soft spot for the child before the boy turned out to be the bane of his existence as well.
“There used to be, but she emigrated to the east after too many visits by knights eager to make their name. I was able to arrange a deal.”
Henry’s eyes were big as balloons. “What kind of a deal?”
“Let’s just say when Regina cast the curse, it enabled the lady from Loch Ness to start a new life and a film career in this world’s Japan.”
Being his grandson, the boy was quick. “Nessie is Godzilla! No way!” He frowned. “But Godzilla movies are way older than the 80s. Mr. Gold, are you having me on?”
Joking as the accusation was, it reminded Rumpelstilskin of the dire situation with Belle right now, and his brief attempt at grandfatherly teasing collapsed.
“Yes,” he said shortly and wished the boy would leave him to his brooding.
“Well, it’s a cool idea anyway,” Henry conceded. “So – since I’m your grandson, am I fairy tale Scottish, too? Can you teach me the accent?”
“Even my power has limits,” Rumpelstilskin said, and vanished into purple smoke.
“Why on earth should I care?” his grandfather replied. He’d been in a bad mood ever since Belle had discovered his latest lie, which somehow resulted in Rumpelstilskin moving in with Henry’s other grandparents. The dubious reasoning for this that he wanted David constantly available for relationship advice.
“Well, aren’t you…I mean, your accent is Scottish! I can tell! I heard it on tv when they showed Doctor Who. “
Rumpelstilskin did not look impressed. However, his glare had yet to affect Henry.
“I mean, I know you’re not from this Scotland, but surely you’re from fairy tale Scotland! The one with Mel Gibson?”
“Do not mention this name to me”, Rumpelstilskin replied. His 28 years as Mr. Gold had included having to track down people unwilling to fulfill their debts even when they were hiding in Storybrooke’s lone cinema when it showed the man in question attempting what sounded like a parody of Gold’s own voice.
But Henry was unstoppable. “I bet all the Scottish fairy tales are real, too. So does Nessie get a vote? There’s a Nessie, right?”
Rumpelstilskin decided to be generous. After all, this was his grandson, and he used to have a soft spot for the child before the boy turned out to be the bane of his existence as well.
“There used to be, but she emigrated to the east after too many visits by knights eager to make their name. I was able to arrange a deal.”
Henry’s eyes were big as balloons. “What kind of a deal?”
“Let’s just say when Regina cast the curse, it enabled the lady from Loch Ness to start a new life and a film career in this world’s Japan.”
Being his grandson, the boy was quick. “Nessie is Godzilla! No way!” He frowned. “But Godzilla movies are way older than the 80s. Mr. Gold, are you having me on?”
Joking as the accusation was, it reminded Rumpelstilskin of the dire situation with Belle right now, and his brief attempt at grandfatherly teasing collapsed.
“Yes,” he said shortly and wished the boy would leave him to his brooding.
“Well, it’s a cool idea anyway,” Henry conceded. “So – since I’m your grandson, am I fairy tale Scottish, too? Can you teach me the accent?”
“Even my power has limits,” Rumpelstilskin said, and vanished into purple smoke.