He’d been hanging out at the Sugar Shack on very nearly a nightly basis for months now and had grown rather accustomed to the VIP treatment that Sugar’s fondness afforded him. When he returned with Gretel’s big blue hair, though, he was unceremoniously ushered backstage.
The dressing room was really more of a clearing in a whitewashed storage room. He picked a path through boxes of toilet paper and crates of unpeeled potatoes, guided towards the locker room chatter by the beacon of what turned out to be a wall of lighted makeup mirrors.
“Oh, you’re a dear!” Gretel gasped when she caught his reflection. She rushed him in nothing but some spike heels and a pair of control top hose with kisses of gratitude. “I would’ve been in the soup without this hair.”
“There’s soup?” Hansel teased, gla
