Some people ask what pet I have, and if they can go to my house. When I tell them that my pet is unusual or going to my house might not end well, they just get more excited and persist! It’s funny how they just blow off my warning. I know what you’re thinking. How could a pet be so bad? Some of you might be thinking that a pet can’t possibly be scary or dangerous. Sure, some people have pet snakes or tarantulas, and I admit that snakes or spiders can be scary, but… well, I have a dragon. A big, mighty, roaring dragon. Once I tell people that, at first they don’t believe me, and then when they do, they start bouncing off the walls saying that I have the last one, and WE could make a fortune off of it. They say they want to see their big money maker. I tell them, “HE’S MY DRAGON! NOT YOUR MONEYMAKER!” It just ticks me off. How dare someone try to take advantage of my boy. Anyway, I’ve got to go feed my dragon dinner. Jason is coming over to see him tonight. But I warned him that coming to my house wouldn’t end well. (smiles) But Dad, why do I have to go to bed. It’s only 9:00! This is so stupid. You know … my friends don’t go to bed until 10:45 aaaaand they are allowed to have their phones in their bed. Do you wanna know how I know? I know because every morning I check my phone and I have a million ceiling pics from SnapChat saying “STREAKS”. Oh wait, you’re old. That means … actually, never mind I don’t want to waste my time. If I don’t keep up with my friends, all the latest clothing trends, and TikTok dances, (checks phone) Never mind, POVs are in now. See what I mean. I have got to keep up or else I’m not going be popular anymore. Then, I won’t have any friends. Oh no Dad, please help me. I still pay attention in class and get good grades. I only have my writing homework. I have to write an argument essay. I can do it in the morning. I’ll just write down everything I just said. And I got a “C” on my math test. Wait, did I say “C?” I meant “B.” Actually, I give up. I don’t know why I argue about going to bed every night. I never win. Fine. I’ll go put my phone on the kitchen counter. Hello, everyone! I’m Snow White, and welcome back to APPLES Group Therapy! Amazing, Poised, Princesses Loathing Evil Stepmothers! (whispers) It’s an acronym. We have two new people joining us today! We have Gretel and… Hansel, you do realize this is Princesses loathing evil stepmothers, right? You know what? Never mind. It’s 2020, you do you. Anyway, we are here because we all have one thing in common. We all have horrible stepmothers! I mean, mine got jealous of me, hired someone to kill me, tried to poison me, but this isn’t about me! Let’s talk about all of you! Cinderella, let’s start with you. Your stepmother didn’t let you go to the ball. How did that make you feel? Like what? Oh, you’re a princess, you shouldn’t use that kind of language. Moving on to… Ariel. While you technically don’t actually have an evil stepmother, you do have an evil aunt. She tricked you into exchanging your voice for legs. How did that make you feel? Wait, no, let me guess, it made you feel pretty… crabby! Hahaha… wrong time and place. Got it. Does anyone else want to share? No? Okay, be honest, do any of you actually want therapy, or do you just come for the free donuts? Listen up, people. I’ve got a lot to say to you and not much time to say it, so let’s get started. Most fellas around here just LOATHE the Grinch, at least before his heart had a growth spurt. “Who is he,” they say, “to lie, cheat, and steal, all because he was jealous?” Well, let me ask you this, who are YOU to go hating on him? Sure, maybe dumping all the Whos’ presents off the side of Mt. Crumpit was a bit overkill, but if he could hear the Whos singing all the way from his mountain, I think he had a right to be annoyed, don’t you think? And don’t even get me started on how lonely he must have been. He’s a green, shriveled-up beast who lived right above the happiest town there ever was, and every year a merry festival went on below him while he froze in his cave. Did the Whos ever once invite him? Huh? Did they even care about him before he carved the roast beast? I DON’T THINK SO! With all that said, I hope next time you read “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”, you’ll understand his motives. I rest my case.
