by Chris Colfer
“Hello, Mother Goose,” Xanthous said with the little enthusiasm he could muster. “You’re in the right place. Welcome to the Bailey home.”
“Xanny, is that you?” Mother Goose asked and took off her goggles. Her face was red, weather-beaten from the flight. “Oh, Xanny, I am so glad to see you! I was worried Lester had taken us to Tijuana again. He loves Mexico.”
Xanthous cringed at the nickname. “Besides the landing, I hope the rest of your flight went smoothly.”
Mother Goose hopped down from Lester with difficulty. “Oh, it was fine, it was fine,” she said. “Except when the future pillow stuffing here bumped into a 747 over Pittsburgh. Stupid bird.”
Lester slowly shook his head. Obviously, he had a different side of the story.
“Those damn planes have gotten so big they don’t leave much sky for the rest of us,” Mother Goose said. “I should have never encouraged the Wright brothers—biggest mistake of my life!”
She did a few windmill stretches and the joints in her back cracked like fireworks. Alex, Conner, and Lampton cautiously climbed out from under the table and approached her.
“Mother Goose, let me introduce the twins,” Xanthous began. “This is Alex and Conner—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah—I’ve met the squirts before,” Mother Goose said. She put her hands on her hips and looked them up and down.
“You have?” Conner said.
“It was years ago, when you were babies. I visited you with your grandma,” Mother Goose told them. She pointed to Alex and then to Conner. “If memory serves me right, you never stopped crying, and you peed all over me when I changed your diaper.” She leaned close to them, eyeing them seriously. “I let it slide the first time, but history better not repeat itself.”
Alex and Conner both gulped; now they knew what Xanthous had meant. Mother Goose’s serious face broke into a giant smile and she cackled loudly.
“Relax, kids! I’m just yanking your tail feathers!” she said. Mother Goose turned to Lester and pulled a large basket off the goose’s back. “Carry in my luggage for me, would you, boy?”
She shoved the heavy basket into Conner’s arms and he grunted under its weight.
“And you,” Mother Goose said to Alex. “Would you mind fetching Lester a bucket of vegetables? He needs to eat after such a long flight. Just no broccoli; it gives him gas.”
The goose looked at her with large eyes and an open beak—appalled she would give out such personal information.
“Don’t look at me like that, Lester, it does!” Mother Goose said.
“You want me to feed him?” Alex said nervously and backed away from the oversize bird.
“Don’t be afraid of Lester, honey,” Mother Goose assured her. “He’s all squawk and no waddle.”
Xanthous and Lampton escorted Mother Goose inside the house. Conner lugged the basket behind them; it was so heavy he almost threw out his back. Alex went into the kitchen and tossed all the vegetables she could find into a large bowl for Lester.
Mother Goose looked around the Baileys’ rental house. “Not bad, not bad.”
“It’s just a rental house,” Conner said. “We’ve only been here a couple years.”
“I stayed with the old woman who lived in a shoe long before she had it renovated,” Mother Goose told him. “Trust me, after that, anything else seems like a palace. I’ll never forget that smell.”
“It’s become a bit of a prison for us recently,” Conner said.
“Young man, I’ve visited many prisons and been visited in many prisons—this is not a prison,” she said. “Put my basket by the fireplace, would you?”
Conner dragged the basket to the fireplace as he was ordered. Mother Goose reached inside it and pulled out an enormous wooden rocking chair. Conner couldn’t believe his eyes; it was so much larger than the basket. He wondered what else she had magically stuffed inside there.
Mother Goose took a seat in the rocking chair and kicked off her boots. Her feet were surprisingly small for someone who wore such big shoes.
“Xanny, would you light this thing for me, please?” Mother Goose asked and nodded to the fireplace.
Xanthous reluctantly flicked a hand in its direction. A ball of fire shot out of his index finger and onto the log in the fireplace.
“Thank you, Xanny,” Mother Goose said. “I suppose I can’t convince either of you to rub my feet?”
Conner and Xanthous just stared at her with a look that said definitely not. Mother Goose shrugged. “Sorry I asked,” she said.
Alex returned from feeding Lester and joined her brother.
Another bright flash filled the room; this time there was no envelope, but a white door appeared in the middle of the room. Alex and Conner eyed each other, knowing that it led to the fairy-tale world. They were tempted to make a run for it, but knew they’d be stopped if they did.
“That’ll be for us,” Xanthous said to Lampton. “Are you sure you can handle this, Mother Goose? I’ve been keeping the soldiers on a tight regimen. Two of them must be on guard in the house at all times while the rest rotate resting and guarding the outside of the house—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah—I know the drill,” Mother Goose said, rocking in her chair. “This isn’t my first rodeo, Xanny. I’ve been doing lockdowns since you were just a little matchstick. I’ll keep the munchkins safe, don’t worry.”
“Very well,” Xanthous said in a disgruntled tone. His flames flickered faster than ever. “Come along, Sir Lampton.”
The dog ran over to the door. “Good-bye, children,” Sir Lampton said. “Please stay safe. I hope to see you soon.”
Xanthous opened the door for Lampton and he ran through it. Xanthous stepped inside but looked back at the twins before closing it. “Respect your grandmother’s wishes,” he said and closed the door behind him.
The door vanished and the twins felt more despondent than ever.
Mother Goose waited until they were gone and then began digging around in her basket.
“Where did I put my bubbly?” she asked herself. Her entire arm was inside the basket searching for it. “Here it is,” she said and withdrew a large metal thermos. She took a giant swig from it and let out a satisfied “Ahhh.”
Alex and Conner looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes and slight smirks appeared on their faces.
“What are you two smirking at?” Mother Goose asked them.
“Nothing,” Alex said and dropped her smile.
“You’re just not what we expected,” Conner said, and his smile grew twice as large.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Mother Goose asked with a raised eyebrow.
Conner shrugged. “I sort of always expected you to be, well, a giant goose in a bonnet reading nursery rhymes to small children,” he said.
“That’s a common misconception,” Mother Goose said and took another swig from her thermos. “Sometimes Lester likes to dress up in my bonnets; it makes him feel fancy but it messes with my image. Don’t look at me like that, Lester! Don’t do it if you don’t want people talking about it!”
Lester was staring in at her through the window from the backyard. His bill was wide open and his eyes were squinting. Then he made himself comfortable on the grass and went to sleep, embarrassed enough for one day.
“He’s so sensitive,” Mother Goose said.
“Where’d you find a giant goose?” Alex asked.
“I’ve had him for years,” Mother Goose said. “I was gambling with a couple of ogres in the Dwarf Forests and won a giant golden egg in a game of cards. I was so excited—thought I was rich! You can imagine my disappointment when he hatched out of it the next day.”
“Wow,” Conner said. He didn’t know what was more interesting, the fact that Lester hatched out of a golden egg or that Mother Goose was a gambler.
“Oh well,” Mother Goose said and took another swig of bubbly. “I’ve put him to work over the years. He’s been my main source of transportation.
I hate flying commercial planes, I get too seasick to travel on ships, and my driver’s license has been suspended for years.”
The more she drank, the heavier her eyes became and the looser her neck seemed to become, because her head began to swivel. She held the thermos up to the twins. “Forgive me, did you want some?” she asked.
“I don’t think we’re legally allowed to have whatever’s in there,” Alex said.
“Suit yourself,” Mother Goose said.
Alex was starting to have serious reservations about her. Conner stared up at her in awe; she was gradually becoming his favorite fairy-tale character ever.
He looked inside her basket. “What else is in there?” Conner asked. “Are those passports?”
Mother Goose quickly shut the lid of her basket and stared at him. He let out an apologetic laugh.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to invade your privacy, just wondering why you have so many?”
“Look, kids,” she said, peeved. “When you’ve lived as long as I have and have traveled as much as I do, you make some enemies along the way. I’m not like your grandmother; I don’t get along with everyone. Some cultures and countries that I’ll refrain from naming don’t appreciate a strongly opinionated dame such as myself.”
Mother Goose nodded confidently to herself and took another swig. Alex and Conner nodded along with her, afraid to disagree.
“Always have a plan B and a friend with bail, and you’re guaranteed to never fail,” Mother Goose said and took another drink. “That’s my motto.”
Her words were starting to slur and her eyes began to flutter as they grew heavier.
“Where were you in Europe?” Alex asked, desperately trying to change the subject.
“I was at a children’s hospital in Romania, then stopped by an orphanage in Albania,” Mother Goose said.
The twins looked at each other to see if the other had noticed, but she seemed to be rhyming the more she drank.
“What stories did you read to them?” Conner asked, stopping her from slipping into unconsciousness. He was so amused he didn’t want it to end.
“I read them ‘Jack and Jill,’ ‘Little Miss Muffet’—the usual; they were a tough crowd, thought I was delusional.” She yawned but kept her eyes open, excited by the new topic. “Muffet can sometimes be a bit of a diva, but she can’t help her severe arachnophobia.”
There was no denying it; Mother Goose was in full rhyming mode.
“Cool,” Conner laughed. “What about Jack and Jill? I’ve always wondered what they were really doing on that hill.”
Alex elbowed him. Mother Goose sat up in her rocking chair. Conner knew whatever she was about to tell them was going to be good. Alex wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear it.
“Jack and Jill went up that hill, for a supposed pail of water,” Mother Goose said. “Jack fell down, broke his crown, ’cause Jill pushed him—but no one caught her!”
“No way!” Conner said with an intrigued smile.
Mother Goose bobbed her head up and down, sloppily nodding.
“Why did Jill push Jack down the hill?” Alex asked.
Mother Goose chuckled to herself. “Jack is nimble, Jack is quick—but Jack can be such a—” She stopped herself from finishing the thought, perhaps remembering she was talking to thirteen-year-olds. “I think I’ve had enough bubbly for one night. It’s time for bed anyway.”
Mother Goose put her thermos in her basket and shooed the twins off. Her head touched her chest, her eyes closed, and she fell into a deep sleep in her rocking chair. She snored like a grizzly bear.
“I like her!” Conner said with a goofy grin, climbing up the stairs to bed.
“She’s quite the gossip, isn’t she?” Alex said.
“Sure is,” he said. “And she really lets loose after a few sips of whatever she was drinking.”
Alex paused halfway up the staircase and looked back at their sleeping caretaker. “Yeah, she certainly does.…” She began forming a plan in her head.
Alex tossed and turned all night long, having the worst nightmare of her life. It started off as the same dream she had been having for months; she and her brother ran happily through the woods only to be kept outside of their grandmother’s cottage. However, this time when they peered through the window they didn’t see their grandmother, but their mother. She was crying and whispered, “Help me!” over and over until Alex woke up.
Alex was shaking and sweaty and began crying. For all she knew, it wasn’t just a dream. Her mother could be in serious danger or seriously hurt.
Alex couldn’t live like this anymore. She needed to find out what was going on by any means possible.
Later, when the rest of the house had woken, Alex went downstairs and found Conner, Mother Goose, and Bob having breakfast.
“Good morning,” Bob said. “How’d you sleep?”
“I didn’t,” Alex said.
“Sounds like we had similar nights,” Conner said, looking at her with bags under his own eyes.
“I’ll pour you some cereal,” Mother Goose said. She went into the kitchen and poured milk and cereal from a box of Mother Goose Grits. A cartoon illustration of a much happier and smiling Mother Goose was displayed on the box.
She placed the bowl of cereal in front of Alex. “Goose grits?” Alex said. “Should I ask?”
“Don’t judge me,” Mother Goose said. “I usually hate the depictions of me in this world—they’re normally so degrading. But I tried having an open mind about this cereal when they came out with it, and I’ve been addicted ever since.”
Alex shrugged and took a bite—it wasn’t half bad.
“Mother Goose was just explaining to Bob all about the fairy-tale world,” Conner said.
“Fascinating stuff,” Bob said. He was eager to continue their conversation. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you and the other fairies have been around for hundreds of years traveling between worlds telling stories to children in need?”
“That’s it in a golden eggshell,” Mother Goose said.
“So you must be thousands of years old,” Bob said.
Mother Goose shot him a dirty look. “Hold your horses there, cowboy,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m older than dirt, but I’m not as old as you think. This world used to run much faster than ours. You’ve had so many different eras and periods: the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, the Enlightenment, the Industrial Age, and now the Modern Age.… We’ve only had three or so that I can recall.”
“What were they?” Alex asked, keen on learning a bit of the fairy-tale world’s history.
“Let me think,” Mother Goose said. “We had the Dragon Age, the Age of Magic, and we’re currently in the Golden Age. Well, it used to be the Golden Age until all this drama happened.”
“The Dragon Age?” Conner asked excitedly. “You mean there were dragons in the fairy-tale world?”
“Tons of them,” Mother Goose said. “It was a mess! Disasters and barbecues left and right! They’re extinct now, kind of like your dinosaurs.”
“Did you ever see one?” Conner asked.
“I used to wrestle them, long before I took up magic and storytelling,” Mother Goose said with a boastful smile.
Conner squinted at her. “Are you pulling my leg?” he asked.
Mother Goose rolled up her sleeve and showed Conner a large burn mark on her forearm. “This isn’t from cooking, kid,” she said.
Conner just stared at her with an open mouth. He had never been so impressed by someone in his entire life, and Mother Goose milked the admiration for all it was worth.
“You were around for the Middle Ages and the Renaissance?” Alex asked. “You must have seen so many people and places!”
“I started the Renaissance, honey,” Mother Goose said, like it was a tea party she had thrown.
The twins felt they were both being led on now.
“I did!” Mother Goose said. “It was just me, your grandmother, Rosette, Skylene, and V
ioletta back then. We were so bored in the human world that one night I threw a big party. We had a great time. Next thing I know, we come back a few decades later and all of Europe had copied us.”
“Our grandma was there?” Conner asked.
“Oh, yes,” Mother Goose said. “She was a lot of fun back then. After she had your father she became so motherly. That’s how she got her title, the Fairy Godmother—from being so sweet and maternal to everyone.” Alex and Conner exchanged a look. However upset they were with their grandmother, she still became more amazing the more they learned about her.
“You know,” Mother Goose continued, “Leonardo da Vinci and I had a bit of a fling.”
Alex gasped. “I don’t believe you! Now you’re making things up!”
Mother Goose rolled her eyes and looked directly into Alex’s, serious as can be. “Why do you think he tried building that flying machine? He was trying to keep up with me and Lester. Hey, Lester, tell these kids I dated Leonardo! They don’t believe me!”
Lester appeared at the kitchen window. He nodded, confirming the news for the twins. They were astonished.
“Of course, I didn’t go by Mother Goose back then,” she said. “My code name was Mona Lisa.”
“You’re the Mona Lisa?” Conner asked.
“The famous painting?” Alex asked.
“Why do teenagers always think people are lying to them? I’ve got no reason to be dishonest with you,” Mother Goose told them. “Leo, as I used to call him, made me laugh. But that’s apparent in my portrait.”
Alex and Conner glared at her with their mouths hanging open. They didn’t know what to believe anymore.
“Why did you have a code name?” Conner asked.
“I told you, I’ve got enemies!” Mother Goose said. “I’ve had several aliases over the years… Guinevere, Mona Lisa, Lady Godiva, the Goose Flu… those were all me. But now I just simply go by Mother Goose. It fits me the best.”
Bob was just as bewildered as the twins were. There he sat, a man of education and science, slowly losing faith in everything he thought he knew.
“So you and the fairies have been spreading the same fairy tales all this time?” Bob asked.