Once upon a time there was a poor miller, who had but one daughter. This must have been once upon a long time ago, because who ever heard of a miller these days? I’ve never met a miller. I don’t even know anyone who has met a miller.  I’m not even sure what a miller does. Something about turning grain into flour. I think that’s all done by machines these days. Perhaps this is why the miller was poor. He had been replaced by a machine.

Anyway, one afternoon, this miller met the king. I’m not sure how. Why would a king meet with a poor miller? He couldn’t have made an appointment. It was probably an accidental meeting, the way you might bump into a famous person at the grocery store. Famous people need groceries too. So do kings, I imagine.

So let’s begin again.

Once upon a time, there was a poor miller who’d lost his job to a machine, and he was struggling to support his only daughter. One afternoon, he was buying groceries while almost everyone else was at work. He liked to go to the grocery store while almost everyone else was at work because the lines were shorter and no one could see him paying with the loose change he’d found in the cushions of his couch. He was a very proud man, this miller.

While the proud but poor miller was buying his groceries with the loose change he’d found in the cushions of his couch, he was stunned to see the king in line behind him. The king also liked to buy groceries while everyone else was at work, so that he didn’t have to sign lots of autographs and answer lots of requests from his citizens. He also didn’t want anyone seeing him buy the sugary cereal with the marshmallows in it. It didn’t seem like a kingly thing to do, but he really liked the way the milk made the marshmallows all sweet and soggy.

“Your majesty!” the miller exclaimed. “What an honor to meet you!”

“I bet,” said the king, hiding his cereal box behind his back.

The miller did not want to miss his only chance to talk to the king, but he didn’t know what to say. He was star-struck. He decided to brag about his only daughter, the way parents do.

“I have a daughter,” he said. “She is so beautiful, you can’t imagine.”

“I can imagine a lot,” said the king, who was not impressed by beauty.

“She is very intelligent. A straight A student,” said the miller. “Well, she had one A minus.”

“Whoopee,” said the king, who was not impressed by intelligence.

“Um,” said the miller, running out of things to say. He didn’t want the king to think he was just some dumb out-of-work miller with an unimpressive daughter, so he decided to say something very impressive, even if it wasn’t exactly true.

Or at all true.

“She can spin gold from straw,” he lied.

“She can spin gold from straw!” cried the king, who was very impressed by gold. And he happened to have a lot of straw around the castle. It had been a birthday present from a strange uncle of his. At least it hadn’t been another sweater.

“Bring her by the castle tonight,” the king told the miller and left without paying for his cereal. The sales clerk was upset, because she would have to pay for the cereal herself if her boss found out. So the miller used the last of his own change to pay for the king’s cereal. He didn’t want to upset the king or get the sales clerk in trouble.

That night, in spite of all her objections and tears, and in spite of her total confusion, the miller dropped his daughter off at the castle. He didn’t even do the polite thing and watch to see if she got inside alright. He just sped out of the driveway as soon as his daughter’s feet hit the pavement. He didn’t want to stick around for the king’s temper when he discovered that the miller’s daughter, of course, had no idea how to spin straw into gold. She didn’t really even know what spinning was.

But, without much of a “hello, how do you do,” the king took her into a large room filled with straw from wall to wall.

“Spin all this straw into gold by morning,” said the king. “Or I will cut off your head.”

He closed and locked the door.

“Nice to meet you too,” the miller’s daughter sneered at the back of the door. She received no reply.

There was a spinning wheel in the corner. Its proper use was as mysterious to the miller’s daughter as it is to us. There was no instruction manual.

You can imagine that the miller’s daughter was pretty upset. Not only did she have to stay in this strange room all night, in the morning, she would certainly have her head cut off.

She began to cry.

She really liked having a head. It made all sorts of things possible, like listening to music and watching movies and being alive. Without it, she couldn’t do any of those things. The miller’s daughter cried harder than she had ever cried in her entire life.

And then, suddenly, a little man unfolded himself out of thin air. He was an ugly little man, with a mostly bald head and with mostly bony legs and with clothes that were mostly rumpled from collar to cuff.

“What’s the matter, my pretty?” he said in a voice that sounded like a family of egrets trapped inside a storm drain. If you can’t imagine what that could possibly sound like, either because you don’t know what an egret is, or because you’ve never heard one stuck inside a storm drain, you should consider yourself very lucky.

“I have to spin all this straw into gold by morning, and I don’t know how!” the miller’s daughter cried.

“I will do it for you,” said the ugly little man. “If you will give me that necklace of yours.”

The miller’s daughter did not hesitate to give away her necklace. I should have mentioned it before—she had on a necklace, nothing special, just a trinket from the mall. She handed it to him. It seemed a small price to pay for her head.

The little man set to work while the miller’s daughter slept on the cold floor, and by morning, he had turned all the straw into neat piles of gold. And then he crumpled himself up into the air and vanished, leaving behind only the faint smell of a match that had just gone out.

When the king saw what the miller’s daughter had done, he clapped with delight, and had his cook make her a lavish breakfast of pancakes and bacon and waffles and French toast and eggs. He didn’t eat with her, because he preferred his sugary cereal with the marshmallows and didn’t want her to see. When his servants told him that she was finished, the king returned and took the miller’s daughter to another room filled with straw.

“Now spin all this straw into gold by tomorrow morning,” he said. “Or I will lock you in the tower forever.” He left her and locked the door.

You can imagine that the miller’s daughter was pretty upset. Not only did she have to stay in another strange room all night, in the morning, she would certainly be locked in the tower forever.

She began to cry. She cried harder than she had even cried the night before. At least without a head, she wouldn’t have known what she was missing. Locked in the tower forever, she would be forced to watch life pass her by as she grew older and older with nothing to show for it. She’d never climb a mountain or make a new friend or go to a dance or fall in love. She’d just be locked in a tower. Her whole body shook with weeping.

“What’s the matter, my pretty?” the terrible voice said again. The little man was back. He danced from foot to foot in anticipation. He obviously knew what was the matter. He just liked to hear the miller’s daughter say it.

“I have to spin all this straw into gold by morning and I still don’t know how!” the miller’s daughter cried. “I really should have watched you do it last night so I could learn.”

“Too bad you didn’t,” said the ugly little man. “I will do it for you again, but you must give me your pretty ring!”

The miller’s daughter did not hesitate to give away her ring. I should have mentioned it before—she had on a ring, nothing special, just another trinket from the mall. She dropped it into the little man’s hand. It seemed a small price to pay to avoid being locked in the tower forever.

He set to work and the miller’s daughter tried to watch him, but his hands moved so fast and he hummed a sweet little song while he worked, and her belly was full of pancakes and French toast and bacon and eggs, and soon, she fell fast asleep on the cold floor. By the next morning, the little man was gone, but he had turned all the straw into neat piles of gold.

When the king saw all that gold, he thought, “It doesn’t matter that she is just a poor miller’s daughter. If I marry her, I’ll be the richest man in the world!” But he had to be certain this wasn’t just some trick. “The third time is a charm,” he thought, and took her to another room that had more straw than the first two rooms combined.

“Spin all this straw into gold by tomorrow morning,” he said. “And I will make you my queen and you and your father will live in wealth and luxury forever.”

As soon as he had locked the door, the miller’s daughter decided that it would be pretty great to live in wealth and luxury forever. Her father was so poor and it would make him very happy. She could forgive the king for threatening to cut off her head and lock her in the tower forever. People make mistakes. She was a very forgiving girl, this miller’s daughter.

She still didn’t know how to spin straw into gold, so she thought about all the saddest things she could think about so that she could make herself cry and almost as soon as she started, the little man appeared.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “Stop that crying. There’s nothing I hate more than bad acting. You need all this straw spun into gold?”

“Uh huh,” said the miller’s daughter.

“I will do it for you again,” said the ugly little man. “But this time, you must promise to give me your first born child!”

“Okay,” said the miller’s daughter, because she didn’t know when she would have a child, but she needed the gold right away.

“Can I get that in writing?” said the little man and he gave her a long contract to sign. The miller’s daughter signed it without reading it. He gave her a copy and sat down to work.

And sure enough, the little man spun the straw into gold as the miller’s daughter slept and dreamed about her new life as the queen. When she woke, the little man was gone and the king was in the room, marveling at his wealth and noticing for the first time, that the miller’s daughter really was quite pretty. She thought it was weird that he had been watching her sleep, but she let it go. Some things were not worth arguing about. They were married within the week.

They had a surprisingly happy marriage. The miller moved into a beautiful suite in the south wing of the castle, and the king and the queen got along fabulously. It turned out that they both loved the sugary cereal with the marshmallows in it, and neither of them were any good at board games. They laughed and told each other stories and listened to each other’s worries and did all the things that married people do, and one day, they had a beautiful, healthy child.

“Well, well, well,” said the ugly little man, uncrumpling himself from thin air in the nursery as the queen watched her baby sleep (she didn’t think it was weird to watch her own baby sleep). “I think that belongs to me,” said the rumpled little man.

“Oh no!” said the queen, remembering what she had promised and really wishing she hadn’t.

“Oh yes,” said the little man. “You made a deal.”

“I’ll give you anything,” said the queen. “I’ll give you all my wealth. Just let me keep my baby!”

“Oh no,” said the little man. “A deal is a deal. What’s fair is fair. In three days I will return to collect what’s mine.”

“Three days?” said the queen.

“I need some time to decorate the nursery. I’m doing a slime and snails theme. Greens and browns. It’s nice but the painter is taking his time.” And with that, the little man vanished.

The queen paced to and fro, terribly distraught. She didn’t know what to do. She ran to her room and found the old contract she had signed. She scanned through the very small print, straining her eyes, but then she saw a tiny sentence near the bottom of the page that gave her hope: If she could tell the little man his name, she could keep her baby!

It was a very strange thing to put in a contract, but lawyers are very strange people, which is why one should always read the small print before signing anything. The queen had certainly learned her lesson.

She immediately sent her servants across the kingdom to find out every name they could.

When the little man appeared on the first night to check up on the baby, she told him about the contract.

“So what?” he said. “You’ll never guess my name.”

“Ron,” she said, and he shook his head. “Jack, Jayden, Alex, Peter, Reginald, Buxley, Pierre.”

He shook his head at all the names she tried, and in the morning he vanished. He said he had to go check on the painter to make sure he wasn’t napping on the job.

The next day the queen sent her servants to all the neighboring kingdoms to collect even more names, and when the little man came back she tried again.

“Blofus, Pritchard, Dogbreath, Snooty Face, Bootsy, Booper, Ed,” she said.

“None of those are my name!” the little man laughed and laughed. “Tomorrow your baby will be mine! But right now I have to go glue together a baby’s crib.” He crumpled himself into a ball and disappeared.

The queen was at her wit’s end. She couldn’t tell the king her troubles, because then he would know she had lied about all the gold spinning. She couldn’t tell her father because he spent all his time at the golf course these days. She was also a bit worried about a glued-together crib. That couldn’t be very healthy for a baby, all those fumes.

Miserable, she went to the grocery store to get a box of the sugary cereal with the marshmallows in it so she could eat it all by herself and chase her worries away.

“You’re the queen, aren’t you?” asked the sales clerk at the cash register.

“I am,” said the queen. “Do you want an autograph?”

“Oh, no,” said the clerk. “Your father was so kind to me a long time ago. He paid for the king’s cereal so I wouldn’t get in trouble with my boss.”

“That’s nice,” said the queen.

“I never forgot that kindness, so I will tell you something,” said the clerk. “I heard the strangest thing two days ago. An ugly little man in rumpled clothes came in to buy some of that sugary cereal with the marshmallows in it, and I heard him singing to himself. I thought it was a new pop song, but it was a very unusual song. It went:

Today I paint, tomorrow, I glue,

and then the queen’s child moves in.

And oh for joy, that nobody knew,

my name is Rumpelstiltskin!”

The queen was thrilled. She hugged the sales clerk and ran home without the cereal she had paid for. She didn’t care. It seemed a small price to pay for her firstborn child.

When the little man appeared and said, “I’ve come to take what’s mine, unless you can tell me my name,” the queen sat down on her bed and tried to look upset.

“Oh cut that out,” said the ugly little man in the rumpled clothes. “You know I hate bad acting!”

“Fine,” said the queen, standing again and glowering down at him. “I know that your name is Rumpelstiltskin!”

“AH!” screamed the little man. “How…How did you...?” His face turned as red as a boiled beet.

“Funny, isn’t it?” said the miller’s daughter. “If you can name a fear, you can usually defeat it. And I named you.” She smiled. “But you…you don’t know my name at all, do you?”

“Ahhhh!” the little man screamed in rage. He grabbed his hair and pulled it, the way some people do when they are angry, but he pulled so hard that he tore himself in half from collar to cuff, and that was the end of him.

The king and queen had to have professionals come clean up the pile of rumpled clothes and demon guts. They found a ring and a necklace in the filter of their industrial strength vacuum cleaner. The queen told the cleaners that they could keep the trinkets. They were a small price to pay to get rid of the gruesome remains of Rumplestiltskin.

The king, the queen, the baby, and the miller who was no longer poor and now more of a golfer than a miller, lived mostly happily, mostly ever after.

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Awesome

I think that the books are awesome. Do not worry I have taken all the nessacary precautions.

Lauren Doeff , February 06, 2011

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Is C. Alexander London P.B.? And other comments thought of and created by the one and only, famous, mysterious, poetic ROWAN HOOD

HMMMMM... C. Alexander London has a very similar writing style to P.B. I wonder.... Haha anyway great story really funny!! I like how everyone acts stupid. The girl just goes and marries some guy who was going to kill her, the king believes an ordinary girl can actually spin straw into gold, the dad just drops his daughter off at a castle where she may get killed, and Rumpelstiltskin runs around singing about his name that no one should know about! In fact, the baby is the only smart one, and we don't even know if its a boy or a girl!!

But, still, a good story, well written.

Rowan Hood , February 09, 2011

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...

You do write like PB, so does lemony snicket. Trenton lee Stewart is the same, hhhhhmmmmmmmm.That was a good story, creative. Do you like...............chocolate? Ha. Bye!!!!!

Harper , February 10, 2011

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Nice!

Very nice! Good twist on a good fairytale. Funny how your writing is so much like PB's! ha!

Emilia finch , February 11, 2011

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Well.........

Did you not just add on bits of writing to the original Rumplstiltskin?
It was still good anyway I guess!

Jazz , February 12, 2011

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Did you not just add random bits on to Rumplestiltskin?
I guess it was funny and strange anyway though!

Jazz , February 12, 2011

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good story

noneofyourconserne , February 12, 2011

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good!

it was funny and amusing!!!

nottellingyou , February 15, 2011

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Good!!!!

UMMMMMMM.... i am confused........is the story supposed to be scary????

Rachel , February 15, 2011

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I thin mr. P.b. himself wrote it >
LOL!!!!
P.S. im like the BIGGEST fan of P.B....... I can't wait till hiz new book camez out....when doez it come out anywayz???

Jai , February 16, 2011

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AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Maria , February 21, 2011

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Wow

I really love how you write like PB. He's like my fav author.

Monica , February 22, 2011

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...

okay... This story, sounds really familiar to me... Maybe, the story of how i was kidnapped... Just, really familiar...

megyn daughter of Hades , February 22, 2011 | url

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...

wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwooooooooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwww awesome

no comprende amigos , February 28, 2011 | url

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COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL STORY ALEX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!

COOL AWESOME WOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

alessio80818 , March 08, 2011

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Great!

It is really good! Rumpelstiltskin is my favorite fairy tale. I have wrote a copy of it to but it is nothing compared to this (and the real one)!

Katherine , March 10, 2011

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...

Mr. Bosch, this sounded a bit more like you and a bit less than the original author. Are you sure you didn't make this whole thing up so that you don't have to write your book?

The Name of This Person is Secret , March 23, 2011

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BREAKING NEWS!! BREAKING NEWS!! READ!!

PSEUDONYMOUS BOSCH'S TRUE IDENTITY REVEALED!!! EMAIL ME AT This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it '> This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it TO GET TONS OF INFORMATION ON HIM!!!*


*P.S. The email I send back will be written in CODE. AKA Pseudonymous Bosch's code specifically.

*P.P.S. NO MIDNIGHT SUN ARE ALLOWED TO EMAIL ME. IT'S AGAINST THE LAW (IN MY BOOK)

*P.P.P.S. NO SPAM!!!!!

*P.P.P.P.S. Can you read the TERCES Secret code? It's required...

*P.P.P.P.P.S. The extra P's are not included.

*P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Midnight Sun dorkies are prohibited.

*P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. I have a butt itch.

*P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Monkies have moles on their dimples.

*P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. This message will self destruct after the P's.

*P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. And no, Bosch is NOT the following people: Megan McDonald, Rick Riordan, Heinrich Hoffmann, Daniel Handler (a.k.a. Lemony Snicket), Graeme Williams, Jon Scieszka, Trenton Lee Stewart, or Edie Bilmann.

*P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. My butt still itches...

*P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Should I do a but carpet scooch like a dog?

*P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. Nah, I'll just scratch it with my hand. More civilized.

The name of this person is secret , March 23, 2011

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I

Hi my name is Emma. I am a total Percy Jackson freak. I like Cass and Max-Ernest too but(no offense!)PJ is better.If anyone can tell me his middle name, I will be sssssoooooooo !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!(and if u want 2 trik me I shall hunt u down!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

This name is not good for you , March 25, 2011

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Boooooooooooooooooo You Can Do Better

THAT WAS NOT A GHOST STORY. AND BESIDES, I'VE HEARD THAT STORY OVER 20 TIMES! WHATS THE MATTER? COULDN'T THINK OF ANYTHING GOOD? OR DID YOU DO THAT ON PURPOSE? YOU SHOULD READ MY STORIES. IM GONNA BE A FAMOUS WRITER SOMEDAY. TIP: TRY HARDER.

What? , March 26, 2011 | url

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i know who P.B. is :)

P.b. is you, yes you reader it is you... and you know it

WhatsItToYa?!?!?! , March 27, 2011

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I agree with the comment above the comment above this one

wow. just wow. too bad i've heard that story, like, 2947160573849653685 times i do like how you changed it to make it more modern with the Lucky Charms, machines, and grocery stores, though

Flippy , April 03, 2011

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?

I thought it was really funny but do you only put up the good comments? Btw when are you going to a book signing in NY? Tell me the date!!!!

M , April 18, 2011

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who is the author....really?!?!

when is secret series #5 coming out !!!!!!!!!!:] can u read this?

No Online Sense Enragement Nickname Says Extravaganza.

Cass , April 29, 2011

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???????

it was code. look for next message to see answer.

Cass , April 29, 2011

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here it is....

sorry i can not tell u yet!!

Cass , April 29, 2011

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the answer to my brainbuster is....drumroll please

NO SENSE. that is it NO SENSE ppretty simple huh. welli bet u do not know y.

Cass , April 29, 2011

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?

Loved it. I really like the style it's written in.

Olivia , April 30, 2011

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Rumpled

i love it! it is so cool

maryann , June 03, 2011 | url

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i luved that story

hpunk123 , June 12, 2011

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Re..

Nice post. I like the second paragraph was quite sensible and comprehensible. I was working on the same topic and luckily got the solution through your blog. Thank you.

mynetpharma , July 21, 2011 | url

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I love this story! What a great twist on the original tale... So random and rambling and yet hilariously gripping at the same time!

Lizard , August 01, 2011

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AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!

Dude, that is an really awesome twist on a kind of stupid fairy tale! You rock man!

Kat , August 15, 2011 | url

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That was an awesome twist to a very unawesome fairy tale. I loved it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

shalini , August 17, 2011

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Don't READ THIS message if your name is PSUEDONYMOUS BOSCH

thiS is noT a pOP song abouT tHE MIDNIGHT SUN.THE creepY spA REdicuLOusly CAn'T EDit IN THE crocodiLe On thiS sTupid CITY OF ATLANTa georgia.they and I'm Sad to report that this is not a secret message and you should NOT try to decode it by writing down all the capital letters.i am NOT a member of the terces society.You will NOT find the location of the midnight sun by doing the instructions.

I Don't Know What Website This Is , August 31, 2011

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Blah Blah

Come on, this is Rumplestiltskin sorta modern. Although, I like the sound of that cereal. ;
D
;
D

Ms. Nobody , January 28, 2012 | url

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i was thinking about this story b4 i read it.... Creepy. I thought we had the book, but may have been wrong

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book

very good book

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Timberland Waterproof Boots , May 12, 2012 | url

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http://www.mulberrybagstore.me.uk

i went to the same school as patrick. i remeber those girls from my school who wrote in. they were white trash...i always felt so bad for them.,http://www.mulberrybagstore.me.uk

mulberry outlet store , May 12, 2012 | url

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