Fast Food Fairy Tale: Epilogue, Part One

The Dairy Queen idly drummed her fingers upon the window sill. Looking beyond the courtyard and outer walls of the White Castle, she watched as the residents of Holdermayo bustled about in preparation for the grand celebration. After a while, her gaze drifted farther south toward the distant farm lands.

“Any sign of them, your Highness?”

Wendy’s uncle, sporting a food-stained apron, approached the Queen who turned and shook her head.

“Not yet, but I believe that it will not be much longer. How are the food preparations coming along?” She added, gesturing out to window to the village below.

Wendy’s uncle sighed and adjusted his glasses.

“I must admit that I’m not used to preparing a banquet on such a large scale. I’m finding that it requires a great deal of…diplomacy.”


“It’s amazing how many people in this kingdom believe that they alone are the true master of the grill.”

As the Queen laughed, the Uncle’s elderly assistant shuffled up with a look of vague concern on her face.

“Where’s the beef?” The assistant bellowed in her cracked voice.

“I’ve already told you, Clara,” the Uncle replied patiently, “all of our beef has been sent down to the village.”

“Huh,” she grunted, then turned and shuffled away.

As the Queen and Wendy’s Uncle chuckled, behind them, the vanguard of the Burger King’s army made its appearance over the horizon.


“But Darling,” exclaimed the Burger King later on after his joyful reunion with the Queen, “you never told me how you defeated the Helthnutts!”

“Oh,” replied the Queen nonchalantly, “did you not receive my Subway message?”

The King pulled out the message from beneath his tunic.

“I presume you mean this one. You wrote, and I quote, ‘Do not worry. Everything is under control.’”

“And so it was,” the Queen smiled.

“An armed force marches on the White Castle, I’m away with our entire military, and you expected me not to worry?”

“Honestly, dear. I don’t know what the Vegetarians told you, but things were not as perilous as you seem to think.”

“Then for the sake of my curiosity,” sighed the King, “please tell me how you managed to defeat them?”

“I can do better than that,” replied the Queen taking his hand, “I’ll show you.”

The pair made their way down to the courtyard where castle residents were eagerly putting up decorations. At the center of the open space and surrounded by numerous tables and benches were two very large carvings; one was of a ship at full sail, sculpted from what appeared to be butterscotch; the other a detailed model of the White Castle done entirely in chocolate.

“I suppose you saw these creations as you came in?” Asked the Queen.

“I did, briefly,” confessed the King. “However, I was a bit preoccupied at the time and did not give them a proper look.”

At a gesture from the Queen, he stepped toward the sculptures to examine them closely. He was struck by the intricate beauty of the work.

“You have clearly outdone yourself, my…oh dear, there appears to be a hole here.”

He pointed to a hole, seemingly bored into the butterscotch ship’s hull. The Burger King’s eyes closely scanned the sculpture.

“Why, here’s another one,” he exclaimed, “and another one. And another…There are holes all over this! Did you know about this?”

“Yes dear,” the Dairy Queen replied calmly. “And if you examine the chocolate castle, you will find holes there as well.”

“Is that you, Burger King?”

The King turned to the Queen.

“Did you hear…” he began.

“In here, Sire.”

The King looked back at the ship and saw with astonishment that a wiggling finger was sticking out of one of the holes.

“What on Earth…?” He stammered, turning back to the Queen who smiled. “You do not mean to say…inside the sculptures…the whole tribe?!”

“Yes, the whole tribe,” she confirmed. “Of course, the butterscotch and chocolate syrup did not simply fall into the shapes that you see now. I and several rather talented craftsmen from the village had to put a number of hours into designing them. They came out rather nice, I think.”

“Sire!” Cried the same voice from within the ship. “Please release us! We’ve been trapped here for days, and the butterscotch smell is overwhelming!”

“I told you that you needn’t have worried,” said the Queen with mock solemnity.

With a grin, the Burger King placed a hand on her shoulder and planted a light kiss on her forehead.

“Forgive me for ever doubting you.”

“You are forgiven.”

“And now,” said the King, giving his hands a clap, “what shall we do with the Helthnutts?”

From within the chocolate castle came a muffled shout: “The Dairy Queen is an evil sorceress!” This was followed by a thud, a grunt, and several voices yelling “Shut up, Bob!”

“Tsk, tsk,” said the King. “I’m afraid that comment will cost all of you another night in uh…prison.”

The groan that went up from both sculptures was tremendous. Another thud and grunt came from within the chocolate castle.


When all was in readiness, a young boy was dispatched from the White Castle. He ran through Holdermayo, dodging groups of celebrating villagers until he arrived at the historic cathedral, the Iglesia del Taco. Upon entering, he immediately spotted the old priest.

“Padre,” the boy said, hurrying up to the cleric, “I bring a message from the Burger King.”

The priest nodded gravely.

“And what is the King’s message, my son?” He gently inquired.

“The King says that the time has come. Ring the Taco Bell.”

It was understood throughout the kingdom that it was only on very special occasions that the venerable Taco Bell was rung. Even the brief invasion of the Helthnutts didn’t warrant the Bell’s sonorous tolling. Now, however, the time had come for its use.

Before dismissing the boy, the priest performed the sacred hand gesture of his religious office in a benevolent benediction. In response, the boy reverently closed his eyes and bowed his head.

“Live mas,” intoned the priest, “live mas.”