For those of you who need a refresher, here is the original poem.
Little Miss MuffetAnd now here is the REAL Story. Or my version anyway. :p
Sat on a tuffet,
Eating her curds and whey;
Along came a spider,
Who sat down beside her,
And frightened Miss Muffet away.
Little Miss Muffet
Sarah had won, but she was not happy about it. She had not wanted to enter the “Little Miss Muffet” competition, but her mother had insisted. Her mother was always trying to live vicariously through her. Gymnastics, ballet, now beauty pageants. And it would have to be this one. “Little Miss Muffet.” She hated muffets. They were far too crunchy. Still, she’d rather have one of those, than the mess she’d been packed for lunch.
She looked into her lunchbox with disgust. Curds and Whey again? Her mom was such an awful cook. Who actually liked eating this slop anyway? It was like watered down cottage cheese! With sugar sprinkled on it! Sick! But then again, it was all she had. She decided to get away from the pageantry for a while, but first she had to escape the paparazzi. They were relentless. They were popping up all over the place trying to take her picture. Even her dressing room wasn't safe, so she opened the window, climbed out, and took off into the forest.
Sarah walked for quite a while before coming upon a large, squishy looking thing on the ground. She’d heard them called tuffets before, but she still didn’t know what that was. Some kind of a mushroom? A wild marshmallow? Still, it was pretty big, and looked like it would be comfortable, so she sat down.
As she choked down the disgusting concoction that would have to pass for her lunch, she heard a quiet skittering noise beside her on the tuffet. Sarah looked down and screamed, flinging her lunchbox into the air, showering the forest floor with curds and whey. Beside her was the most hideous tarantula she had ever seen. She flew off the tuffet and ran down the path and out of the woods as fast as she could, launching herself through her open window, back into her dressing room.
Back in the forest, the spider chuckled to himself as he flipped through the photos on his tiny camera. “I can see the headline now!” he said to himself, looking at the photos of the lonely, then terrified little girl. “Newly Crowned Little Miss Muffet Abandoned in the Woods by Hateful Parents!” Fanciful Enquirer would pay big bucks for these pictures, he could smell the cash already.