Sheila the Princess: The Book That Got Me Banned
As promised, here’s that story. That wicked, evil, satanic story, complete with pictures. If you haven’t read about the wonderful class who wrote it and would like to, here are parts one and two of the fiasco. If you don’t care to read it, here’s a little background. This is a very simple little book. It was written about five years ago by a group of fourteen spirited, imaginative, developmentally disabled adults. It was a great experience, but because of the content of the story, I wasn’t asked to come back to teach anymore. I’ve included the author’s bios at the end, but I edited it some so as not to identify anyone.
nce upon a time, there was girl named Sheila. She was a princess in a castle. She was pretty and tall, with blond hair and green eyes. Sheila was a magical princess. She could walk on water, and was the strongest woman in the world.
One morning, Sheila woke up and found that there was a fire-breathing dragon in her bedroom! The dragon’s name was Shawn. He was a very old dragon. He had green and red scales and wings on his back. His eyes were blue, circled with black. Shawn was a very, very big dragon, and was very, very scary. He breathed fiery flames and burned Sheila’s curtains. He burned her bedspread. And he burned all of the clothes in her closet. Sheila was mad! She picked that dragon up and threw him through the open window.
Now you might think that being thrown out of a tall castle window would kill the dragon,
but dragons are immortal, which means that they live forever. The only person who can kill a dragon is a Dragon Master. Sheila did not want that horrible dragon to keep coming into her bedroom and burning up all of her things. So she went into the forest to find a Dragon Master. A Dragon Master is specially trained to fight and kill dragons.
Sheila was very brave. She went into the deepest, darkest part of the creepy forest. She was looking and looking. “Hmmmmm… where could this Dragon Master be?” she asked herself. Suddenly, she heard a sound.
“What in the world was that?” she said.
A very deep and booming voice answered, “It is I– the Dragon Master.”
Sheila looked up and saw the tallest man she had ever seen. He was at least seven feet tall, with big muscles. He had very long black hair and a black beard and mustache. The man looked very wise. Sheila noticed that he wore a long flowing robe with pictures of winged dragons. She knew that his was indeed the Dragon Master.
“It is very nice to meet you,” said Sheila. Sheila told the Dragon Master all about Shawn the Dragon. She told him about how hot he made her room with his fiery breath. She told him about how he turned her bedspread black with his stupid flames. And she told him about how she had to have new princess clothes made because he had burned all of her clothes to a crisp. “Can you help me?” she asked him.
“Hmmmmmmm,” said the Dragon Master thoughtfully. “I can help you. I can kill your dragon. BUT if I kill the dragon, you have to promise to marry me and live in my magical castle for all eternity. That means forever.”
Sheila thought about what the Dragon Master said. She did not want to marry him. She did not want to live in his magical castle. But she did want to get rid of that horrible dragon, so she agreed.
“Okay,” she said, “I accept your offer. If you kill the dragon, I will marry you and live in your magical castle for all eternity.”
The Dragon Master and Sheila went to Sheila’s castle. On the way, the Dragon Master stopped to find his helper, a dwarf named Pumpkin. Once, many years ago, the Dragon Master had helped Pumpkin when the little dwarf was in trouble. Now the Dragon Master wanted Pumpkin to pay him back. Sheila and the Dragon Master went to a tiny house in the woods. They knocked on the door. Out walked a little man, three-and-a-half feet tall. He had green eyes and green clothes, with black shoes and socks. On his head was a funny
little red hat. Sheila thought that Pumpkin must have been very old because his skin was very wrinkled. She also noticed that his ears were quite pointy. The Dragon Master told Pumpkin that he needed his help, and Pumpkin agreed. So Sheila, the Dragon Master and Pumpkin went off to fight the dragon.
When they got back to Sheila’s castle, she felt very happy because they were going to get rid of the dragon forever. Sure enough, as soon as they got there, they saw Shawn the Dragon. He was shooting gigantic flames at the castle. Sheila, the Dragon Master and Pumpkin knew what they had to do. The dwarf had a magic slingshot, and the Dragon Master had a magic sword and shield. And because Sheila was the strongest woman in the world, the Dragon Master asked her to hold the dragon’s tail to keep him from running away. Then he gave her a magical sword and shield of her own. “The will keep you safe,” he told her. But as soon as Sheila got near the dragon to hold his tail, the dragon knocked the magical sword and shield right out of her hand! The dragon was mad, and Sheila felt a little scared.
The Dragon Master became very angry. He closed his eyes and mumbled some magic words. Suddenly, he shrunk to the size of a very small mosquito. He flew up to the 
dragon’s face and buzzed around his nose. This drove the dragon crazy! He forgot all about Sheila and Pumpkin, and tried to get rid of the tiny, annoying Dragon Master buzzing around his face. He shook his head all around, trying to shake off the Dragon Master. Suddenly, at that moment, Sheila grabbed the dragon’s tail. With her incredibly strong muscles, she swung the dragon around and threw him right into the moat. A moat is the deep water that surrounds a castle. Pumpkin swam right over to that mean old dragon. He climbed up the scales on the dragon’s back and started hitting him right on the head! Then he shot rocks at the dragon with his magic slingshot. And because Sheila was a little magical herself, and could walk on water, she bravely walked over to the dragon. Once again, she held his tail. This time, she didn’t let go.
By now, the Dragon Master had returned to his normal size. He stood in front of the gigantic dragon. His hair, his beard, and his long robes were blowing in the wind. Just then, the Dragon Master pulled out his huge, beautiful, magical sword. He flew up and cut the dragon’s heart out! The water of the moat turned red with the dragon’s blood. The Dragon Master put the dragon’s heart into a special bag. “I will take this heart to the hospital,” he said. “They can give it to someone who needs a heart transplant.” Then he turned toward Sheila. “Now I have killed the dragon,” he told her. “I’ve kept my promise. Now you must keep your promise. You must marry me and live in my magic castle for all eternity.” Sheila felt very sad, but she knew that she had to do what the Dragon Master told her. “Okay, Sheila,” he said. “Come on. It’s time to go.”
Sheila and Pumpkin followed the Dragon Master to his magical castle. They walked inside.
The Dragon Master took Sheila down some old stairs. He put her into the dungeon. It was big and dark and creepy. Sheila saw rats running around. There was a big pit with snakes in the middle of the dungeon. Sheila was so upset. She did not know what to do. She could not escape because there was a big lock on the dungeon door. “Help! Let me out of here!” Sheila said, but she knew no one could hear her. She was very depressed. Sheila sat on the cold, hard floor, and prayed that someone would help her.
Pumpkin had grown to like Sheila and wanted to help his new friend. He jumped into the castle’s moat and swam beneath the deep water. Pumpkin was happy to find that there was a secret underwater tunnel, and he walked right into the dungeon. There he found Sheila, sound asleep. Just then, Sheila opened her eyes. She was so happy to see her friend Pumpkin! She gave him a big hug. “Come on Sheila,” Pumpkin said. “Follow me.”
Sheila and Pumpkin walked through the secret tunnel. They swam out of the tunnel and across the moat. When they got back on land, Sheila hugged Pumpkin once again. She was free! “Thank you, Pumpkin. You’ve saved me from having to marry the Dragon Master. Now I don’t have to live in his magical castle for all eternity.”
“No problem,” said Pumpkin. “I am always happy to help a friend.”
Sheila smiled. “We are friends Pumpkin,” she said. “In fact, I would love it if you would come and have dinner at my house tomorrow night.” From that moment on, Sheila and Pumpkin were the best of friends.
At first, when the Dragon Master looked into his crystal ball and saw that Sheila had escaped, he was very angry. Then he became very sad, because he really loved Sheila. He wanted her to stay with him forever. Finally he said, “Oh well. If Sheila doesn’t love me, I don’t want to make her stay here. But I hope that one day we’ll be friends.” He decided that one day soon he would go to Sheila’s castle. He would ask her if they could be friends. He knew by looking into his crystal ball that she would say yes. He knew that one day, he Sheila and Pumpkin would be friends forever.
In the meantime, they all lived happily ever after.
About the Authors:
- Bill was born in Ohio. He works at _____. He loves to go hiking, boating, fishing and horseback riding. He loves animals, especially his dog.
- Chris was born and raised in Arkansas. He likes riding his bike, watching videos and movies and spending time with his girlfriend Margaret, and with friends and family. He also enjoys doing impressions. Chris works at _____.
- Susie lives in _____ and works at _____. She enjoys bowling and cats, especially her cat Samantha. She likes listening to country music, mainly Billy Ray Cyrus.
- José was born in California. He enjoys chess, walking, card and dice games, people and poetry, among other things.
- Sheila lived in Illinois for two years. She likes playing with dolls, painting, working and reading. Her boyfriend is Shawn. Sheila works at _____.
- Phil is from Oklahoma, although his family moved all over the country when he was growing up. Phil works at _____. He is engaged to Susan, and enjoys going for ice cream and to the movies with her.
- Sandy lives in _____. She likes watching TV and movies, and doing puzzles.
- Shawn was born and raised in _____. He works at _____. He loves playing with toys, listening to country music, his mom and dad, his sister, and his girlfriend Sheila.
- Mike was born in Texas. He works for _____. His girlfriend is Beth. Mike loves sports! He enjoys basketball, football, and watching wrestling. He collects sports cards. Mike also enjoys spending time with his parents.
- Paula is from Illinois. She loves pasta, music, and her boyfriend Everett.
- Lisa is from _____. She likes puzzles, bowling and her boyfriend Billy. Lisa works at _____.
- Andrea lived in Texas for seven years. She is married to Paul. Andrea works at _____. Her hobbies are playing piano and guitar.
- Mark is from _____. He is the world’s biggest Elvis fan.
- Debbie is from _____ and loves country music. She likes to sing. Debbie has a boyfriend named Kevin.
Smushy Gushy Blog Love
It’s been an amazing blog week. I get so many gifts from you out there in Blogsville. Sometimes, it’s a post someone’s written that makes me laugh hysterically (and Tom look at me really funny). Other times, I’ll read some gem of wisdom or someone will write exactly what I needed to read at exactly that moment. I get to wade through oceans of art, music, prose and poetry, and travel along with others on their daily journeys. I read about people’s passions. I discover other writers who struggle with the same things that I do, or they’ll post about some success which makes me feel both happy for them and encouraged for myself at the same time. The connections are incredible. I think I could go on forever about this. As you know, I go on forever about a lot of things. I’ll spare you though, and just say that it’s all pretty incredible.
This morning, I was sipping my coffee and checking my blog, and saw that I’d gotten this:
It’s from Bipolar Chicks Blogging, and although I don’t technically qualify as bipolar (yet), I think the moody nature of my blog (Happy Post! Depressing Post! Funny Post! Political Post!) qualified me for the award, for which Trailer Park Barbie nominated me. I feel so honored! By the way, even if you aren’t bipolar, it’s a great site (so is Barbie’s). I seriously doubt that you can be dull when you’re bipolar.
I received some beautiful paintings in my e-mail from one of my favorite artists (and people), Ion Danu. I’ve posted a couple of them here, and they’re on my wall by my desk where I enjoy them all day long. I love his work, and these images truly make me happy.
Here’s one of my favorite gifts of the day, from Maxine, of Maxine’s House of Ill Repute. First of all, she had a post a few days ago entitled, “I Love Moonbeam McQueen.” How can I not adore this person?
Maxine is funny, sassy, outspoken and at times controversial. One of my favorite blog combo meals. Yesterday, she wrote something about Shirley Q. Liquor, a comedian and radio personality that he she Maxine absolutely loves. I left a brief , not so positive comment about the person she was discussing. While I was writing it, I thought, “Uh oh. I’m not sure how she’s going to take this.” Sometimes things get lost in translation, and sometimes we just piss people off. You never know how your words will be taken.
Well, this morning, I read this post, and it really did make my pre-menopausal tear ducts leap into action. I adore you, Maxine, I really do.
The Debil’s in the Details
Note: This is long and rambling and boring, but I’m following up on my earlier post about the creative writing class that I taught. You may want to skip it, I just have to finish what I started. If you’re a glutton for punishment and want to start at the beginning, here’s part one.
*****
So where was I? Oh, yes, I was telling you about the class I taught to fourteen developmentally disabled adults, and the book they wrote. Oh, and how the place where I taught it never asked me back, because they accidentally confused me with a satanist or something.
I’m having a harder time writing this than I’d anticipated. The story is long, and the explanation of how they did it is longer. Tears keep welling up as I remember each of the class members. No matter how I word this, it’s going to sound condescending or patronizing. I don’t want to use words like “innocent” or “childlike” or phrases like, “full of wonder,” though these descriptions are accurate.
For the few weeks that this class lasted, I shared the company of people who were so
unique, so individualistic in their thinking, and so much less “bullshitty” than many adults I’ve encountered. This isn’t to take away from us non-disabled people. It’s just that we’re wired in a more complicated way than these folks. We’ve learned more tricks, more defenses, we wear more masks- one for home, one for work, one for the rest of the world. My mentally challenged friends at this agency had none of this. It was a Bullshit Free zone, and I loved it.
I wanted everyone to start the class feeling like writers. I told them that at the back of most books, there is a short biography of the author. So they composed their own biographies. I asked them a few questions, and wrote their answers on index cards. Today, as I was rereading these, I started blubbering all over again, remember each person and what they were like. I’ll share their bios with you after the story.
The class members were a diverse mix of personalities ranging in age from eighteen to mid-fifties. Shawn had problems with anger at first, but ended up being a sweetheart. His girlfriend Sheila was quiet and polite. Mike bore a striking resemblance to Baby Huey; Paula was too shy to lift her head from the table for the first couple of classes. Mark could hardly speak or move at all, yet as he struggled through each nearly unintelligible word, no one rushed him, and no one was ever unkind or impatient. Some of them even helped translate things he said. Susie was sweet and gentle, Andrea was silly and feisty.
My favorite was a beautiful young man named José, who’d fallen to the bottom of a swimming pool at the age of two and nearly drowned. He lost much of his mental and physical capacities on that day, yet he was more eloquent than many adults I’ve known. Words were a struggle, but writing wasn’t. At the end of class, he brought me notebooks full of beautiful poems that he’d written. José most definitely was a romantic.
Next, we got down to the business of the story itself. The class had to decide what it would be about. It was fairly easy. This was during the Lord of the Rings craze, and they were all into magic and fantasy. They wanted a good old fashioned yarn about a princess, a dragon and a dwarf.
Grumpy old Shawn insisted that the princess’s name would be Sheila, after his girlfriend. In turn, Sheila insisted that the hero be named Shawn. The unique title for the story? “Sheila the Princess.”
All along the way, we discussed characters, plot, and description. Every part of the story was argued over, hashed out and the final decision voted on, from the color of the princess’s hair and the shape of the dwarf’s ears, to the manner in which the dragon would be slain. They would shout out their plentiful ideas, which I would write on a dry erase board. Sometimes they’d argue, but then they’d vote, and majority ruled. No one was ever upset if their idea ended up getting vetoed.
I had to figure out how fourteen people who could barely write their names could collaborate on an actual book. I brought a tape recorder in, and designated a seat at the head of the table as The Author’s Chair. Each person would be given approximately five minutes to tell their part of the story, with each author picking up where the last one left off. I would ask questions to clarify things, or if the class members wanted to interject or make changes, we’d stop the story telling for another vote.
At first, the tape player intimidated them, or they’d lean into it and talk loudly, as they
would to a deaf grandparent. They soon got used to it though. My god, it was amazing to just watch them sit there, proud and in charge, going off on insanely wild tangents and painting their part of the story, one after another. They all helped each other, and when I say they argued, it was really more like a non-stop spirited discussion. They all treated each other with a lot of respect.
Before the last class, I transcribed the tapes. I didn’t change their words, but I edited a little for cohesion. I also added a few pictures that I found in Microsoft Word.
I took the pages to a printing place (whose name I won’t mention) to have copies made. I wanted two copies for each author– one for themselves and one for their families. I had a few made for the staff as well. The printer was so delighted about the project that not only did he not charge me, but he bound the books for free as well. They looked great.
The last night of class, I presented the authors with their books, and read the completed story to them. One of the staff members came in to hear it too. Everyone listened quietly while I read their tale of Sheila, The Dragon Master, and Pumpkin the dwarf. When I came to the words, “The End,” the class whooped and hollered, jumped from their seats and gave high fives all around. They autographed each others’ books, and basked in the pride that they felt for their achievement. It was a great moment.
We all hugged, said our goodbyes, and they left. The staff member sat in her chair as I cleaned up. I was still giddy from the whole experience. “It was such a great class,” I told her.
She looked at me through squinty little eyes and said, “Y’know what I thank? I thank the
administrators ain’t gonna like this at all. You gotta remember that this is Arkansas. These people come from religious families and they don’t like all this supernatural stuff. They think it’s satanic.”
I was floored. I never considered that this would be considered evil. In fact, in my mind, it was all quite beautiful. While other volunteers were teaching check writing and floor vacuuming (granted, important skills for them to learn), we had actually created something tangible that the students could keep forever.
But you know, she was right. I was never called or thanked or invited back. That’s the way one expresses one’s dissent in Arkansas.
Here was my real thanks though. Every time I saw one of those students when I was out and about, I was greeted with a hug. They remembered my name, and they remembered our experience. They were still excited about it.
This was all about five years ago. My mother was visiting the town a few months back, and she recognized one of the students. It was Sheila (the Princess), and she was walking home from the bus stop in the rain. My mother had attended one of my classes and recognized her. She offered her a ride home. Sheila remembered the class, the story, and she told my mother that she still has her book.
I just hope she’s not casting any spells.
Next: Sheila the Princess. Really.
