Nobody ever thought to give me no proper one. I was different from the first day I was born. Beefy, bald and long. Me wee fingers were as big as sausages, me shiny pate as large as a prize melon. Me poor ma took one look at me and expired on the spot. Me da, a puny, little man, keeled over and hit his head. He weren’t never quite right after that, I been told. Never been rocked as a babe; too big to even fit on me da’s knee. The cradle he made splintered in two the second month after me birth. Nearly took out the dog’s eye wit one of its sanded planks. Poor poochie. He weren’t never right after that, either. Me da did his best to care fer me, but I was a handful in more ways than one. I soiled every scrap of linen in the cupboard, ate a week’s worth of gruel in one day, and every time I cried, I blew out the fire. Me poor ole da shivered somefin fierce that whole first winter. By the end of me first year, I’d drank the cow dry and outgrew the cottage. The barn became me home.
What do You think about Once Upon A Time: The Villains?
