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Ya lyublyu skazki. Nu, vot lyublyu i vse. Eti naivnye dobrye istorii, kogda zlo obyazatel'no budet nakazano, a lyubov' vsegda oboyudnaya i so schastlivym kontsom. V skazke ya by obyazatel'no rabotala kakoy-nibud' korolevnoy. Interesno, kak by togda zhilos'? Vse problemy reshalis' by s pomoshch'yu magii, a prints, kotoryy nepremenno okazhetsya bryunetom s nezhnym vzorom temnykh glaz, vlyubitsya s pervogo vzglyada? Mechta, da i tol'ko! A ved' koe-kto segodnya vecherom mne govoril, chto mechty sbyvayutsya... I vot, stoyu ya v okruzhenii vysochennykh derev'ev, po shchikolotku v gryazi i usilenno tru kulakami glaza, poputno razmazyvaya stol' iskusno nalozhennyy makiyazh. Mama dorogaya, kuda zhe ya popala? A vprochem, izbushki kovarnoy starushonki v predelakh vidimosti ne nablyudaetsya. Serye volki i malen'kie Krasnye Shapochki ryadom ne probegayut. Zamok Siney Borody na polyanke ne rastet. I chto zhe eto za skazochka takaya? Gde tsvety, konfety i tolpy poklonnikov? Au, geroi! Vstrechayte gostey! Eto ya priekhala!