Snow's Stand-Up Special (Jokes So Bad, They're Cursed)

The dwarves' mining cavern, normally filled with the rhythmic clink of pickaxes and muttered complaints about back pain, had been transformed—sort of.

Glowshrooms lined the rocky walls like cheap fairy lights. A precarious pile of glittery gems served as a "spotlight," refracting wild patterns across the makeshift stage: a mostly-flat boulder with suspicious scorch marks. A half-deflated squirrel bladder was tacked up as a banner reading: OPEN MIKE KNIGHT.

Snow White stepped onto the rock with all the confidence of someone walking into an execution.

"Ahem... hi?" she squeaked, tapping her 'microphone'—a rusted pickaxe handle that Dopey had duct-taped to a tree root. "Um... so, anyone here ever been poisoned by an apple?"

Blank stares.

"No? Just me? Cool, cool... yeah, no, this is great."

A single cricket chirped. Then coughed and died dramatically.

Grumpy crossed his arms from the front row, scowling so hard the stalactites trembled. "This is worse than the time Dopey tried interpretive dance with a shovel."

Dopey, next to him, struck a pose. The shovel bowed in solidarity.

Snow wiped her palms on her tunic. "Okay! Next joke!" she chirped, voice cracking. "Why did the prince cross the road?"

She paused. "To trip over his own ego!"

Silence thickened.

Then—

"HA!"

A voice—loud, wheezy, and inappropriately enthusiastic—echoed from the shadows as a tangle of blue velvet flopped into view. Prince Florian, tangled in a mine cart with a glowworm in his teeth, beamed. "That's me! She's talking about me!"

Snow blinked. "You're... not offended?"

"Offended? I'm honored!" Florian flailed an arm. "Do another one about the time I serenaded a cabbage I thought was you!"

Three dwarves toppled as he attempted to stand and instead body-slammed a coal pile.

The mirror—now mounted on a stalagmite and serving as Snow's "hype mirror"—flickered to life:

[AUDIENCE OF ONE ACQUIRED. PROCEED.]

By the third night, word had spread like a magical rash.

Creatures crowded into the cavern in droves:

Dwarves, cheering and heckling from the makeshift mineral buffet.

Forest animals, seated in rows, holding tiny acorns as popcorn.

A lost troll, wearing bifocals and clutching a bingo card labeled "Bloodstone Tuesdays."

Snow, now proudly wearing a jester's hat so oversized it had its own weather system, consulted her "set list"—a charred scroll with only two jokes left and half a doodle of the queen on fire.

"Let's talk about my favorite stepmother," she said, adopting the regal tone of someone who hadn't been cursed in three whole days. "The woman's so vain, she uses invisibility potion as primer."

Gasps.

The mirror buzzed: [OHHH BURN UNIT DETECTED]

"Her skincare routine?" Snow continued. "Step one: steal youth from peasants. Step two: deny allegations. Step three: moisturize with tears of orphans and repeat until literally transparent."

A raccoon choked on its acorn and fell off its log, wheezing.

Then—

"HOW DARE YOU."

Gasps turned to shrieks as a cloaked figure stormed into the cavern.

Queen Evilia—wearing a fake nose, beard, and her signature velvet gown with a "Hello, My Name is Definitely Not the Queen" sticker—marched forward, fuming.

Snow froze mid-joke. The audience collectively inhaled.

"…Is that a burn unit," the Queen growled, "or a burn center you'll need when I'm done with you?"

The mirror, always loyal to the bit, blinked: [APPLAUSE LIGHT ACTIVATED]

Evilia sat in the front row, arms crossed, aura of pure doom intact. "Go on, comedienne. Amuse me."

Snow's fingers trembled around her pickaxe mic. "Why did the magic mirror break up with the Queen?"

The crowd shrank back.

"…Because it couldn't reflect on their relationship anymore!"

SLAM. Evilia's fist shattered a stalagmite. She hurled a glowing green vial in fury—

POOF!

Snow gasped. Her voice now sounded like a helium chipmunk being throttled by a kazoo.

"Oh come ON!" she squeaked. "Voice cracks were my thing!"

Silence.

Then absolute chaos as the crowd lost it. Owls hooted. Dwarves howled. The troll slapped his bingo card and yelled, "COMEDY!"

Even the Queen stifled a smirk—before realizing she'd just enhanced the act.

Snow leaned into it.

By dawn, her "Squeaky Voice Era" was the stuff of legend:

"I'd roast the Queen's new beard, but I think it's roasting me!"

"Prince 'Charming'? More like Prince Charmin'—because he's so disposable."

"The dwarves' chore system? It's like communism, but with extra mildew."

The mirror, now wearing a virtual top hat, flashed nonstop:

[LAUGH TRACK: CROWD GOES WILD]

[TWEETABLE QUOTE DETECTED]

[CROWN HER ALREADY]

But the real twist?

The Queen kept coming back. In new disguises:

A "peasant" with suspiciously regal cheekbones and glittery boots.

A "wandering bard" who sang with operatic spite and used a hairbrush as a lute.

A "mysterious traveler" who kept shouting "I AM NOT THE QUEEN!" whenever someone looked at her funny.

Snow, to the audience: "Either I've got a stalker or someone's desperate for a writing credit."

Evilia's shriek echoed through the caverns.

Final Night:

Snow stepped onto the rock stage with confidence, holding a single, sharpened joke like a dagger behind her back.

"The difference between the Queen and a goblin?" she paused dramatically.

"One's a petty, gold-hoarding monster…"

Beat.

"…and the other's a mythical creature!"

The room went dead still.

Then—

"BRAVO!"

Queen Evilia stood, clapping like thunder. "Finally! A worthy insult!" She tossed a pouch of gold onto the stage. "Now never speak again."

She vanished in a puff of glitter and passive aggression.

The mirror flashed:

[COMEDY WIN. NEW CAREER UNLOCKED: PROFESSIONAL MENACE]

Florian, who'd been doubled over laughing with a daisy stuck in his ear, stood with stars in his eyes. "Marry me?"

Snow, still squeaky: "Ask me again when you don't have a fork stuck in your hair."

In the Queen's chamber, her new scrying orb displayed posters from Snow's sold-out comedy tour: "Once Upon a Punchline."

Evilia snarled, popping the cork off a swirling bottle labeled:

"PLAN B: BECOME FUNNIER THAN HER."

The mirror, snarky even in exile, muttered:

"Spoiler alert: you're not even the second-funniest person in your own reflection."

To be continued…