A long time ago a Hunchback Princess was born to the Royal family of Teatree. The people were furious as they had become the laughing stock of the people of neighbouring Willow whose princess had already won several baby prizes at the annual markets. Her mother and father bowing to popular opinion secreted their daughter away to the forests and left her to die.
A Wicked Witch found the Hunchback Princess and took her to her home built in a treetop at the centre of the forest. The Wicked Witch opted not to eat the child given that it was just a prejudicial stereotype that Wicked Witches did that and instead named her Belgin and raised her as her own.
As Belgin grew older she learnt of philosophy and magic from the Wicked Witch (whose name was Justin because despite her personal identity as a woman she liked her birth name). Justin was honest and told Belgin when she turned twelve of her true parentage.
One day Belgin asked Justin to look through her scrying mirror to see the town of her birth. What she saw was a village which had almost totally succumbed to crass commercialisism and corporate culture. In the mornings people shuffled out of carbon copy houses to enter tank like four wheel drives on their way to work. In the evenings they ran from cold glass workplaces to bright shiny entertainment complexes in a rush to give their life meaning. The river through the town stank and the air was a thick grey smog. The village was obviously cursed.
“Oh no,” cried Belgin, “I must save them.”
“Why?” said Justin, “What have they ever done for you?”
“But,” Belgin replied “ It is easy to do good by ones friends the real challenge is to good by your enemies”
“Don’t give me that Jeudo-Christian patriarchal claptrap,” mocked Justin.
“Patriarchal!, Well how neo-conservative is your suggestion that some victims are deserving and others aren’t”retorted Belgin
“Look all I’m saying,” Justin pleaded “Is that of course you want to save the town, you’ll feel guilty if you don’t give. It’s your prescribed social role as a woman. And I think thats extremely problematic.”
“Don’t tell me you making the Nietzchean suggestion that any form of solidarity with others is a form of weakness. Have you no collectivist spirit?”
“Hey, Bugger Nietzche, stop dodging the fact that there’s no justification for your ahistorical community consensus politics. You’re a bloody Hegellian!”
With tears in her eyes Belgin stormed out “Fine don’t help then”
“Fine I wont,” Justin called back.
Belgin made the long trek into town alone. When she arrived most of the people ignored her and the few who listened to her laughed. Belgin realised that she didn’t know how to make the people see how they were cursed and she had no other plan. She sat by the side of the road and cried.
“Hey, Belgin!”
Belgin looked up and saw Justin riding in on her broomstick. She was wacking the townspeople with her Magic Wake-Up-To-Yourself Wand.
“I thought you wouldn’t help” Belgin yelled.
“Now what sort of a Wicked Witch would I be if I wouldn’t betray my politics for someone I loved” laughed Justin.