The speaker in this case is a middle-aged witch, me Tangled on my two great arms, my face in a book And my mouth wide Ready to tell you a story or two. I have come to remind you, all of you Alice, Samuel, Curt, Eleanor, Jane, Brian, Mariel All of you draw near. Alice, at 56, do you remember? Do you remember when you were read to as a child? Samuel, at 22--have you forgotten? Forgotten the ten PM dreams? Where the wicked king went up in smoke Are you comatose? Are you undersea? Attention my dears, let me present to you this boy. He is sixteen and he wants some answers. He is each of us. I mean you, I mean me. It is not enough to read Hesse and drink clam chowder. We must have answers. The boy has found a gold key and he is looking for what it will open This boy. Upon finding a nickel, he would look for a wallet This boy. Upon finding a string, he would look for a harp, Therefor he holds the key tightly. Its secret whimper, like a dog in heat. He turns the key--presto! It opens this book of odd tales, which transform the Brothers’ Grimm Transform--as if an enlarged paper clip could be a piece of sculpture. And it could.