A Tale Dark and Grimm by Adam Gidwitz Page B

the pot on the stove and turned on the heat. “Leftovers,” he said to himself. Then he set the table with forks and knives made of human bone and teeth, and he waited for the Devil to get home.
    When he heard the Devil’s footsteps trudging up to the door, Hansel began to scream at the top of his lungs. The door opened and the Devil came in.
    â€œDamn it, Grandmother! Can you stop your infernal singing for one bloody instant?”
    â€œSomeone’s in a bad mood today,” Hansel said in his best grandmother voice.
    â€œWithout my blasted glasses, there isn’t any point looking for sinners. I made a complete fool of myself,” the Devil said sullenly.
    â€œOh, I’m sure you didn’t, dear,” Hansel said. And he began to ladle the fingers onto the Devil’s plate.
    â€œYour voice sounds strange today, Grandmother,” the Devil said. “Are you well?”
    A cold sweat broke out all over Hansel’s skin. “Of course, dear,” he said. “Just a little sniffle.” And he sniffled twice.
    The Devil sat down at the table but immediately turned on Hansel. “I tell you, it stinks of human flesh in here! It’s disgusting!”
    But Hansel remembered what the grandmother had said the day before. “Of course it does! What do you think we’re having for dinner?”
    The Devil took one bite of his dinner and spit it out. “This is revolting. What is it?”
    â€œLeftovers,” Hansel said nervously.
    â€œUgh! I hate leftovers!” The Devil stood up and stomped into the living room and plopped down on the couch. “What a horrible day!” he shouted.
    Hansel took a deep breath, and then slowly walked into the living room. “Here, dear,” he said. “Let me stroke your hair. Everything will be better in the morning.” And Hansel sat down in the middle of the living-room rug, just as the Devil’s grandmother had done.
    The Devil grumbled and laid his head in Hansel’s lap. “Grandmother, why are you shaking?” he said.
    â€œThe better to rock you to sleep, my dear,” Hansel said, and he tried to prevent his teeth from chattering, too.
    â€œGrandmother, will you sing to me?” the Devil asked, his eyelids fluttering closed.
    â€œCertainly, my dear,” Hansel said. He swallowed hard. And then he began to scream at the very top of his lungs.
    â€œGrandmother, what a beautiful voice you have,” the Devil said.
    â€œThe better to sing you to sleep, my dear,” Hansel replied.
    â€œCan you stroke my hair?” the Devil said.
    With trembling hands, Hansel began to stroke his hair.
    â€œGrandmother, what delicate fingers you have,” the Devil said.
    â€œShhhh,” Hansel whispered. “Sleep, my dear.”
    And the Devil slept.
    As soon as the Devil’s breathing was nice and even, Hansel took one of the Devil’s golden hairs between two of his fingers and, trying not to wake him, plucked it out.
    â€œTar and pitch!” screamed the Devil, sitting up. “Why did you do that?”
    Hansel’s heart had jumped into his mouth. But he said, as calmly as he could, “I’m sorry! I fell asleep and had a bad dream. I must have grabbed hold of your hair.”
    The Devil settled himself back in Hansel’s lap. “I love bad dreams,” he said. “What was it?”
    Hansel swallowed. “I dreamed that there was a city with a fountain of wine, but that it flowed no longer, and all of the people were sad.”
    â€œAha! Those old fools!” said the Devil. “I placed a frog right under the fountain. That’s what’s stopping up all the wine! All they’ve got to do is kill it. But they don’t know that, of course.” He chuckled at the unhappiness he had caused and fell back to sleep.
    As soon as the Devil’s breathing was nice and even again, Hansel took another golden hair between his fingers and plucked