A long, long time ago in a land far far away, there lived a woodsman and his wife. Their names were...uh, I forget...but I'm sure they had nice names. Now this unnamed couple had two mischievous rugrats named Hanson and Brooke. Hanson was always finding ways to get into trouble, running around the house singing some insipid nursery rhyme that contained the word "bop" over and over again, while his sister walked around in Calvin Klein jeans trying to get the attention of a tennis player. But all this is beside the point...
     One day Hanson came up with a bright idea. "Hey let's go to L.A. and cut an album". Brooke thinking that Wimbledon was on Ventura Blvd, heartily agreed.
     Since they didn't have money for airfare, they thought they would just walk. "We'll just keep walking till we see the Redwoods", said Hanson, not realizing they lived in the Hamptons.
     So one morning after packing a bag lunch of grape nuts and raisins, for Brooke was with PETA and didn't eat meat, they set out. After while, after while, and after while, Hanson noticed he was starting to grow facial hair.
     "Just how long have we been walking anyway", he asked Brooke, but being as exhausted and tired as she was, all she could mumble was "Nothing comes between me and my Calvins".
     "I think we're lost", said Hanson, starting to hum that rhyme of his. Brooke took the padding out of her bra and stuffed it in her ears.
     "Maybe we should go this way", she said, pointing to a sign that read: DANGER. KEEP OUT. DO NOT ENTER. NO ADMITTANCE. GO AWAY.
     So, with the great wisdom that befits celebrity kids and people who read The National Enquirer in check out lanes, they proceeded in that direction.
     It seemed they that walked forever, or at least for a couple of pages of unrelated background information, and both were growing very tired when Brooke saw something through the trees. It appeared to be a small meaningless building, Such as the department of military Intelligence or an IRS training facility. Nearing closer though, she realized it was none of these, but just an old bread outlet in the middle of the forest.
     "Hey look", she exclaimed, pointing to a sign that read: OLD BREAD OUTLET IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FOREST.
     She started forward, but Hanson grabbed her by her arm. "Wait a minute, Brooke. It could be a trap."
     "A trap? Have you been watching too many X-Files episodes? It's just a bread outlet."
     "Yeah, but how many bread outlets do you find in the forest?"
     Brooke thought for a moment. "Uh..two?"
     "Are you sure?"
     "Yeah, I think so. I'm pretty certain it's two", she replied with a furrow on her brow.
     "Two?"
     "Yes", she said knocking the furrow off her brow.
     "Is that your final answer?"
     "Yes, that's my final answer."
     Hanson looked at the monitor in front of him, which was odd because how many monitors do you find out in the forest? No, don't answer that question, we'll be here all day.
     "Sorry, Brooke. The correct answer is zero. Wow, what a dumbass..." He conked her in the head with a copy of "The Feminine Mystique".
     "Owww", she exclaimed, countering his attack by conking him right back with a rolled up issue of "Maxim" (you know, the hot one with Anna Kournikova on the cover).
     "Hey", he started to complain, because that was his favorite issue, when suddenly they heard a noise of someone clearing their throat right behind them.
     They both spun around to be confronted by the most awfullest sight they'd ever expect to see in the forest: Lance Bass.
     "Hey man", Hanson cried out, visibly upset, "get lost, there ain't no rocket here."
     Brooke however reacted differently and in a manner I can't properly describe here if I'm going to keep this tale family appropriate...Okay, I'll tell you. First, she threw herself upon him, knocking him to the ground. Pinning him in place with her Body By Jake, she took her tongue and gently...
     "Look", Hanson cried out suddenly. "There's a light!"
     Brooke looked up briefly before renewing her assault on the hapless pop singer. "Ooh, I just love O-Town", she sighed, staring into lance's terrified eyes.
     Whop! Hanson conked her in the head again. "Dumb ass, he's in N-sync".
     She just rolled her eyes. "Uh. Like, whatever..."
     In a last minute bid for freedom, Lance threw her off of him and fearing for his life fled into the woods, the words "Bye, Bye, Bye" echoing into the distance. (Though he successfully escaped Brooke's clutches, Girl Scout Local Troop 187 unfortunately treed him just a few minutes later).
     Having lost the only dreamboat in the forest, poor Brooke was dejected. But no matter, she got over it eventually, just in time to enjoy old age and retirement.

     The light that Hanson had pointed out was coming from the bread outlet, which as our two zeroes, uh I mean heroes, approached, they realized it was made out of bread itself. Hanson, being the hungry boy he was, promptly broke off a piece and ate it.
     "Ah, pita bread", he smiled. "Not enough seasoning though."
     "Maybe two teenagers would add the proper ingredient", a voice cackled from within the house. The intrepid brother and sister jumped as the door opened and out onto the porch stepped a horrible looking witch. Or at least they assumed she was. After all, she had ugly wiry hair, a long nose, and evil grin, and a horrendous voice that sent chills up their very spine. But then they realized, it was just Barbara Streisand.
      "Damn barb, you scared us", Brooke said, almost but not nearly relieved. "What are you doing out here in the woods? Shouldn't you be protesting something or charging people 80 dollars a head to see you sing at the Capitol?"
     Barbara misunderstood the question, and once the word Ôsing' was uttered, she thought it was a request and launched into the first verse of "You don't bring me flowers."
     Hanson, knowing what was good for him, fled in horror, but not before Neil Diamond emerged from the outlet to add to the cacophony.
     Brooke clapped in delight as Neil simultaneously launched into a chorus of "Beautiful Noise". The squirrels of the forest thinking it not so beautiful began to throw acorns at him.
     In the meantime, Barbara had managed to usher the hapless (and not so intelligent) Brooke in the pita bread house and was slowly leading her down aisles of day old bread and moldy snack cakes. Finally they entered into the back kitchen, where a row of ovens was busy cooking bread to be sold several weeks later after the expiration date has run out.
     "Wow, look at all the bread", Brooke exclaimed, peering through the window of each oven, admiring the rising of the bread within. Eventually, she reached the last oven, which strangely stood open. "What's this one for? Why is it empty?"
     Barbara grinned. "It's for you, child."
      "Oh goody", Brooke happily cried out, "I always wanted an oven of my own. I remember back when I made "pretty baby", I always dreamed I'd someday own an oven."
     She looked at the metal nametag on the stovetop. "...And it's by General Electric! Cool!"
     Barb rolled her eyes and shoved the girl into the oven, slamming the door shut behind her.
      "...And it's so nice and roomy, too! Wow!" Brooke exclaimed, her voice muffled behind the heavy door.

     In the woods, Hanson was feeling guilty for leaving Brooke behind to face the evil Streisand alone. Even after several choruses of "where's the love?" he still couldn't think of three good reasons to go back and save her. Finally, he just settled on one (something to do with story continuity) and decided to go back.
     Arriving back at the pita bread house, the first obstacle he faced was getting past the baritone henchman, Neil Diamond. He tried to lay out a plan in his head, but because it was empty, thoughts just echoed in there, bouncing back and forth in the space between his ears.
     Just when he was getting ready to pounce, a boxer came running out from the brush and delivered a knock out punch to the villainous singer. Neil fell, splayed out on the forest mat and the boxer said something like "I'm the greatest", before sauntering off into the other side of the forest. As his voice receded in the trees, he was heard to mumble something about busting George Foreman up for stealing his idea for a barbecue grill.
     Relieved that the henchman was down and out, Hanson launched his attack and burst into the bread outlet. Hearing screams from the kitchen, he ran down the aisle and burst into the back room, where the witch stood watching the row of ovens.
      "Where's Brooke?" he demanded.
     "Oh, I don't know. Doing her hair? Freshening up?"
     A scream that sounded a lot like his own name seemed to come from the last oven.
     "What was that?"
     "Bread rising?" Barbara suggested.
     "Oh", Hanson said, before spying all kinds of bread laid out on the table. "Hey, is that a cinnamon twirl?"
     "Yeah, get you one", the witch encouraged.
     As Hanson reached out to get one, the witch hit him over the head with a pizza pan. There was a loud clang and the boy was knocked out instantly.
     "Kids", Barbara declared, "easily distracted by food and Super Nintendo". She cackled as she checked the temp on the oven she'd shoved Brooke into.

     "Excuse me", a voice called out from the doorway. The witch turned to the sound, only to be confronted by two officers from the Health Department and the City Taxation Bureau.
     "We've received reports that you are operating a business without the proper license", the taxation guy said.
     "Uh, well, I..." the witch stammered.
     "And we've also received a complaint that you have roaches", added the Health Department dude. He reached over, opened the last oven, and Brooke came tumbling out.
      "Oh my, not only do you have roaches, but you have children, too...that's even worse." He looked at the witch sternly, "I'm going to have to issue you a citation for operating an establishment infested with children. You got one in the oven, another on the floor", he said pointing to Hanson's prone unconscious body, "Who knows what you got in the pantry?!"
     He flung the pantry door open wide and out tumbled every Britney Spears Cd that was ever made. "So that's who bought all those!" he cried.
     "I knew there was a sinister reason for her popularity", the taxation guy added. He stooped over and picked up a copy of ÔOops, I did it again'. Suddenly his eyes narrowed. "Hey, this one's autographed by Mandy Moore!" Then his eyes grew wide as the revelation came clear to him. "Oh My God!!! Britney Spears is Mandy Moore!!! "
     "A-ha", cried the Health Department dude, "that will be another citation", he said pointing an accusingly finger at the Cd's still piling out on the floor. "Possession of more than one Britney Spears Cd without having a 12 year old in the house is a crime punishable by...hold on a minute while I look that one up."
     He got out a little book and start flipping through the pages. "Now if you'd had Christina Aguilera Cd's the law is a little more lenient", he mused. "Yep here it is", he said finally finding the law he was looking for. "Unlawful Britney Spears Cd possession...well, that's not too bad. The punishment is having Avril Lavigne dance on your head with combat boots on."
     The witch could take no more than this. At the mentioning of Miss Lavigne (whom everyone knows is the coolest girl singer on the planet), she protested and prepared to spit out a curse that would affect everyone's families for years to come.
     The air bristled with energy, the forest outside grew quiet, and then it came from deep within her throat, the curse of all curses.
     "Fun-ny Lady", she sang and the officers immediately fell, clutching their ears.
     "No, anything but that", they pleaded. But it was too late. That damn awful song would be ringing through their heads for eternity.
     As the men screamed and begged for their lives, Hanson & Brooke were coming to. They were just in time for her to jump into the opening lyrics of "Evergreen", and then they too began to succumb to the torture.
     All of a sudden there was a commotion, a noise like that of the Gods of old, as if the Mount of Olympus had awakened the Deities, or called forth the great Wizard of Oz.
     "What the (bleeping) hell is going on here, (bleep)?," the voice boomed.
     The Streisand witch spun to the commanding, though near incoherent, voice, and hissed in that evil tone of hers. "You! Curse you and your legion of fans!"
     "Barb, you (bleeping) loser, let those (bleeping) kids go or I'll kick your (bleeping) (bleep)!"
     "I'm not scared of you", she laughed. "You have no power here!" Then she commanded the very bristling air, "I conjure up the King Of Pop to deal with you!"
     There was a crack of lightning and suddenly Michael Jackson appeared. He looked at Streisand. "Oh, hi barb", he spoke in a soft voice like a shy little girl. Then he turned to the Wizard and spoke "great and powerful Oz, leave my friend alone."
     His voice wasn't all that powerful or commanding and so the powerful Oz laughed at loud. "Jackson, you (bleeping) sissy! Shut before I get Zakk Wylde to smash his (bleeping) guitar over your (bleep) head or something."
     It was then that Oz turned to Hanson & Brooke. "Come on Kelly, Zak, we're getting the (bleep) out of here, before that (bleeping) traitor Eddie Van Halen shows up and starts playing Ôbeat it'."
     "But we're not Kelly and Zak", the kids protested, "we're Hanson and Brooke. And we don't want to go anywhere with you!"
     Oz threw his hands up in the air. "Sharon!", he yelled in that almost unintelligible accent of his. "The (bleeping) kids have been smoking pot again!"
     "Hey look, old tattooed guy", Hanson explained slowly so the rocker would understand, "I am Hanson and this is my sister Brooke. .."
     "Did you fall off the crazy train or something? Ain't no Hanson's in this (bleeping) family! And the last time there was a Brooke, she was a groupie back in ྆ on the Sabbath Bloody Sabbath tour. So stop jerking around." He looked at the kids with a rare admonishing look on his face. "Just Ôcause we got nominated for a (bleeping) Emmy doesn't mean you can act all prima donna and...(bleep), look what (bleeping) time it is! I got to get out of here, Ozzfest is in an hour."
     Then he turned his stare to Barbara who was shaking in her shoes at the mention of the premiere metal festival. "You", Ozzy demanded, pointing her out, "you're coming with me. We'll teach you how to (bleeping) party!"
     He stormed out of the house/bakery, dragging the witch Streisand behind him, who was screaming the whole time, something about "The PMRC will not stand for such brutality."
     After Ozzy and the punished witch had left the building, Hanson looked at Brooke. "Who the hell was that anyway?"
     His sister shrugged her shoulders. "Don't know, but it sure wasn't Andre Agassi."
     "Andre who?"
     "Agassi", said a new voice from the doorway. This time it wasn't a witch or a rock deity, but a tennis player with racket in hand. "Could any one of you tell me which way to Wimbledon?"
     Brooke's eyes lit up. "Yep! Sure can!" She grabbed his hand and led him from the house and into the woods. It's said they never made it to Wimbledon and instead found themselves hopelessly lost, causing them to fall in love and live happily ever after...well okay, maybe not the happily part, but still that's another story.
     As for Hanson, he remained behind at the pita bread house, which he converted into a recording studio to record a new masterpiece, which he promptly titled "MmmBop part 2'. Thankfully nobody bought it, and instead he was forced to consider another career. When he finally left the Pita bread house, which was more like a foundation by then because he kept eating the walls, The blonde haired pretty boy look had been replaced by a new more bolder look: the dark haired pretty boy.
     And as for Ozzy...well (bleeping) forget him, you won't be seeing him in a (bleeping) fairytale again. But now, Alice Cooper...that's a whole different story...

The (bleeping) End

Note: The following is a sneak preview from the second fairy tale in this series, "Alice Cooper In Wonderland":

     Once long ago, Alice cooper was sitting under a tree reading his favorite golfer's manual, when up from a rabbit hole popped a big white rabbit staring at a pocket watch. "Oh dear, I'm late" the rabbit cried, right before Ted Nugent shot him with a bow followed by the camera crew from "American Sportsmen"....