Hans Jewish Andersen Stories™ By Dylan O’Leary You’ve heard of Hansel and Gretel, yes? You probably have. And have you heard how they found their way home with bread crumbs? Yeah, you’ve probably heard that too. But, did you know they were Jewish? Didn’t think so! Read on, my little liblings, and enjoy the REAL Hansel & Gretel story… IT HAS LONG been known that the -el in names like Gabriel and Michael and even Israel is the Hebrew word for “God.” Gabri-el means “God’s Hero,” Micha-el means “Who is Like God?” and Isra-el means “He who wrestles with God (and never wins).” Even Superman’s real name, Kal-el, is Hebrew! It means “God’s little alien come down to Earth to kick some butt.” Really. Google it. But did you know that the little German kids Hansel and Gretel also have nice Jewish names? Oh, yes! Hans-el means “He who eats enough for God” and Gret-el means “She who doesn’t do house work, not even for God.” “Stop eating so much!” Hansel’s father would yell at him, night after night. “And, you!” Gretel’s mother would shout at her, day after day. “Clean your ROOM!” But the spoiled schmutzes would have nothing of it; Hansel ate like a little pig and Gretel’s room looks like a pigsty. Their parents couldn’t do anything but pull their own hair (which for the father was difficult). Then, one day, the parents got so verklempt they decided to really do something about it. This is, of course, after years of positive reinforcement, expensive therapy, and even retreats to fat camps and Home Ec interventions (none of which worked but made the parents feel that they were doing something and not being oppressive tyrants, like Papi and Nudgemama???) They tried everything but nothing worked because the parents were, in short, suckers. So, one day, the parents took Hansel and Gretel out for ice cream in the middle of the Central Park. And ditched them. The parents skedaddled—vamoosed, ran away, beat feet—abandoned them in the middle of New York. Immediately, Hansel whipped out a loaf of bread to make a trail of crumbs to find their way— No, instead of bread, they took out their cell phones and texted their parents. Grtlgrl56: omg! mom! You dumped us! “We’re schizzle out of luck” Gretel said to Hansel. “It gets worse,” Hansel said, as a hideous shadow passed over the children. A wicked voice with all the charm of a bad German vampire film said: “Little darlinks!” Hansel and Gretel turned to see a giant bag lady looming over them, tall as a tree with her thick accent still ringing in their ears. “Are you little tastelings all alone und stranded vithout your parents?” “Um, yes?” Hansel said, ever clever. And before the little schmucks knew it, the hunch-backed ogre whisked them up and hustled them into her cabin in the woods. And, yes, there are lots of woods in Central Park thick enough to hide a cabin—a cabin made of gingerbread and candies, no less—that somehow missed zoning ordinances, so let’s just make with the make-believe and keep reading. Boom! The door closed and the little kids realized they were trapped in a house made of food. Which is really easy to break out of, if you think about it; just knock a hole in the crumbly walls and run like hell, but they were seriously freaked out by their parents’ tough love and terrified by Madam d’Nazi with her sharp teeth, warts, and claws, so they weren’t thinking so well. It’s funny how kids can be so mean to their parents and think they’re all tough and grown up but when they’re abducted by a cannibal, they turn into little scaredy cats. “Hansel,” Gretel said, “this place is giving me the schvitzers.” “It’s okay by me!” Hansel said, eating a table. Just as Gretel thought it might be a nice alternative to living with parents who ditched them in the most dangerous city in the world (no, not D.C.), the old troll turned to them and started barking orders. Gretel prepared herself for the worst. She got it. “Number vone! You vill pick up dat broom und start schweeping!” The floors were filthy with garbage, slime, and muck. I mean, it looked as bad as Fifth Avenue after the Guggenheim’s 100th Anniversary of the Motorcycle exhibit. Boy, what a mistake that was. Ten thousand choppers lining Fifth Ave and twice as many barbarians in German helmets fouling the place up. There were stacks of old dishes and fly-infested pots around the kitchen. Four of the seven plagues of Egypt were represented in the sink. And the maggots and the cockroaches were drowning in the rotting filth and coming back from the dead as zombies. “Und number three! Scrub ze toilet!” Have you ever been to a Yankee’s game on chili dog night? Yeah, nuff said. As Gretel began her day in hell, the monster turned her wrath on Hansel. “Und you!” Hansel cringed, expecting three horrific chores. “Eat!” “?” mumbled Hansel. “Eeeeeat! Eat! Eat! Eat! Eat all you vant!” Hansel smiled as a magnificent smorgasbord of all the junk food and all the candy you could think of appeared in front of him. Jews might not believe in Heaven, but Hansel knew he had arrived. The table was stacked! And it wasn’t just German sweets from the old times, no sir. There were Doritos and Pringles and Twinkies and McDonalds and Burger King and Taco Bell—and Coke and Pepsi—and all the other brand-name treats that could give us corporate sponsorship for a possible product endorsement, nudge-nudge. As Hansel dug in, Gretel saw that the evil witch monster was very pleased at the sight of the little fat boy and getting fatter and fatter. The monster encouraged Hansel to eat more and more, way beyond his capacity. Even when he refused and said “No more! No more! I’m stuffed, no more!” (words that had never come out of his mouth) she’d insist he eat just a little more and would put heaps of food on his tray, guilting him into eating everything on his plate. And for a moment, Gretel thought: My God, is she a Jewish monster? “Get to work, already!” the old witch shouted at her. She just might be … It was a long day.
By nightfall, Gretel was exhausted and worn thin. Hansel was so fat he looked like that guy from that movie who exploded from being so fat (y’know that movie, the one we can’t mention or we’ll probably get sued? Good film). And finally the old woman said, “Alright, mein little kiddies! I have vone last task for you both! Look into my oven and you vill see ze greatest apple pie ever made! It iz dripping vith sugary goodness, ja?! Hansel, you vill eat it! Und Gretel, you vill clean up ze oven aftervards!” The nasty witch opened the oven door and both children leaned in to see their fate: Hansel’s yummy pie and Gretel’s next chore. Just then, with their heads nearly in the burning oven, Gretel noticed the witch getting ready to push them in! And with that, Gretel’s fears vanished like a nightmare. She quickly shoved Hansel to the side and ducked just in time as the evil old witch missed them both and fell straight into the oven. Whoosh! She went up like so much cotton candy. “Oh, no!” Hansel yelped. “My dessert!” “Shut’cher pie hole, fat boy,” Gretel said. “We got a date with Children’s Services.”
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