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“I’m Percy,” he says. I stare in disbelief as the longer leg grows even more. He stumbles and falls flat on his face. The others titter at their friend. I rush forward and grab his arm, pulling him up.

“Are you okay?” I ask with a frown at the long leg. There’s no way he can walk with that thing.

He glares at the others. Another approaches, this one with one arm dragging on the floor. The other is half the length.

“Daphne, ignore them,” Theo drawls. “They are reject Pinocchios.”

“The puppets who want to be real boys?”

Another emerges from the shadows. He puffs on a cigar, but everything about him seems in proportion.

“That’s right, toots,” he growls, shocking the bunkum poop out of me.

His voice is a raw, gravelly deep thing, a total contrast to the others.

He flicks his gaze from my toes to my head as I clutch Percy’s arm.

“Peter here told you my name to get clout, forgetting he has a big tell.”

I snap my head to Peter. “What tell?”

His wooden cheeks turn pink. Oh my Idols, the puppets blush. “My leg grows when I lie,” he whispers.

I’m sure the original tale talks of a nose issue.

“So you see, they cannot lie without being found out,” Percy declares.

Theo comes to my side and folds his arms. “We are just here to collect a few things, not hear your life story.”

“That’s always the way with you Hallowed,” Percy says after taking a puff on his cigar. “Never looking out for the little guy.”

My heart squeezes. “Are you bound to this room?”

Percy shakes his head. “No, but after Pickle and Paul got tossed onto the fire by a Charming, we retreated to somewhere they would never look. Knowledge is contained here, but we all know Charmings aren’t the sharpest of Hallowed.”

Another of the puppets emerges, this one with an eye protruding from the socket. My stomach gurgles as I swallow back the nausea. Really, these puppets need a village of their own in So Far Away to gain sanctuary and live their lives freely without fear of becoming fuel.

“You all grow different parts?” I check. How horrid to have to be so transparent. Although I don’t make a habit of lying, everyone seems to work with white lies to keep the peace.

Percy blows a ring of smoke into the air and winks at me. Theo huffs, two tempos away from turning scaly and displaying his superior smoky abilities. “That’s right.”

“What part do you grow?”

“Daphne, no,” Theo mutters.

“What? Is that not the done thing? To ask which body part magically grows?” I clearly committed some kind of faux pas.

“That’s okay,” Percy growls. “Ask me a question and find out.”

Umm. “Is your favorite color pink?”

“No.”

Nothing happens. Percy presses his wooden lips into a thin line. “Ask another.”

“Do you wish to be thrown on the fire?”

Percy smirks just as the genie emerges in front of us. “You said wish?” he asks hopefully.

I side-step him and stare at Percy, waiting for an answer. “Yes.”

At first, nothing happens. The genie swivels to stare at Percy and the bunch of odd puppets. “Why are his pants growing?” the genie asks.

My gaze drops to Percy’s expanding pants. Oh. My. Idols.

“Make it shrink,” the genie snaps. “No one wants to see that.”

“Everyone wants to see this,” Percy says with a laugh. The obvious lie causes his pants to tear in the middle and out pokes a wooden pole.

I blink, unsure of how to handle this situation.

“Put that thing away,” Theo demands. “We don’t know where it’s been.”

“You think it’s dirty?” I question.

Sir Sweeps-A-Lot darts forward and flicks his branches over Percy’s pole, making it grow even more, and so a vicious cycle begins where my broom touches up a Percy puppet with a growly voice.

The other puppets scurry back into the shadows, probably scarred for life at the sight of their leader gaining sexual gratification with a magical broom.

Genie tries to grab my broom and end this before its crescendo, but his hand goes through the handle, making the scene even more manic by a magical purple being making grabby hands at one pole or another.

Theo pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes closed.

“Hey, if I have to see this, then so do you,” I grumble.

He sighs and opens one eye to bear witness.

Percy groans as Sir Sweeps-A-Lot, in a frantic bid to end this carriage crash, goes between Percy’s legs and does something that makes the puppet’s eyes pop out. Literally. They fall out of his head and onto the floor, before his pole droops and shrinks.

Ten tempos later, we have the items on the parchment and throw open the door to the chambers where the genie freezes in front of a shocked audience comprising my sister, the mirror man, and three stunned knights. The broom in question peeks out from behind the curtain.

I point at him. “You know what you did.” It disappears behind the material.

“I am off to see the fairy godmother for counseling,” the genie declares. “She costs a fortune, but I’m hoping she can scrape that memory from my mind.” After giving the curtains a stern look, he puffs out of existence.

If only all my terrible memories could be erased with the snap of my fingers. But we have to remember that it’s not only the good things that shape who we are, we must also take on board the bad. After all, not everything has a happily ever after.