What Really Happened to Sleeping Beauty? A Hilarious Fairy Tale Retelling

Everyone knows the tale of Sleeping Beauty — the delicate princess cursed by a wicked fairy to prick her finger on a spinning wheel, fall into a deep slumber, and wake only when kissed by her true love. And as the story usually goes, she wakes up, finds Prince Charming by her side, and they live happily ever after.

But that’s not quite how things unfolded.

Yes, the prince did kiss Sleeping Beauty awake. Yes, the castle rejoiced, and yes, there were celebrations — but happiness? That’s where the fairytale starts to unravel.

Once the wedding dust settled, Sleeping Beauty discovered an uncomfortable truth: her prince was, to put it kindly, an absolute disaster. He never bathed, his hair smelled of cabbage, and he slurped his soup with sounds that would send a banshee shrieking. His table manners were worse than a pack of wolves — at least wolves have the decency to lick themselves clean.

If that wasn’t enough, he played with his food like a hyperactive toddler, juggling apples, tossing pies at the walls, and crafting fruit hats — a pineapple crown with cherry earrings, if you can imagine. It was like living with a fruit salad come to life.

Sleeping Beauty tried to endure, but the last straw was the prince skipping around the castle, banging a saucepan on his head while singing absurd nursery rhymes in mismatched clothes.

Frustrated, she phoned her cousin, Cinderella — the only person who might understand. Of course, reception only worked from the highest tower’s window, so there she was, hanging upside down from the ledge, hoping Cinderella would answer.

Finally, a puffed-out voice came through the line, interrupted by shouts to “Point those toes!” and “Careful, Sneezy!” Cinderella, it turned out, was teaching ballet to the Seven Dwarfs. When Sleeping Beauty explained her predicament, Cinderella chuckled knowingly.

“Prince trouble? Oh, darling, my first prince was obsessed with colouring competitions and building pillow forts. I handed him off to my sister, Gertrude. She loves arts and crafts. Why don’t you try the evil fairy who cursed you? Maybe she can help!”

The thought sent shivers down Sleeping Beauty’s spine, but desperation overruled fear. She set off to the gloomy tower in the woods where the wicked fairy brewed peculiar potions and muttered to herself.

“I want to change my prince,” Sleeping Beauty declared. “He’s a child in royal robes.”

The fairy glanced up, eyeing her with mild interest. “What’ll you trade for it, princess?”

“What do you want?”

“My crown,” the fairy said. “I’m tired of being the wicked one. I want a palace, servants, and a rose garden. You give me your crown, I’ll give you a new prince.”

Sleeping Beauty hesitated. A crown for a better prince? But before she could change her mind, she agreed. The fairy chuckled, dusted her spinning wheel with shimmering purple powder, and chanted an ancient spell. The wheel spun by itself, glowing gold, while the air filled with sparkly, eggy-smelling dust.

When Sleeping Beauty returned to the castle, she was stunned. A wall of thorns had sprung up around the kingdom, and there stood the prince — only, he was transformed. He was clean, well-dressed, polished — the perfect picture of princely charm.

Except when she tried to approach, he raised a hand.

“Halt! Imposter! You wear the princess’s crown, but you are no princess!”

Confused, Sleeping Beauty touched her crown. She still had it. But then another figure appeared: the once-evil fairy, now draped in a sunny yellow gown, beaming as she took the crown from Beauty’s hands.

The prince bowed to his new bride, and together they vanished into the castle. The fairy — now a princess — winked, leaving Sleeping Beauty standing outside the walls of thorns.

Dejected but undeterred, Sleeping Beauty headed straight for The Glass Slipper Dancing School, where Cinderella greeted her with a warm, bone-crushing hug.

“You did it!” Cinderella gasped. “You’re free!”

“Yes,” Beauty sighed, “but now I’m not a princess. What am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe you’re the fairy now!” Cinderella mused.

They both trekked back to the wicked fairy’s tower, which, to their surprise, remained cluttered yet cozy, with shelves of labelled potions and dusty spellbooks. A convenient book on “How to Concoct a Custom Prince” sat open, practically begging to be read.

Eager, the cousins brewed, stirred, and chanted until the cauldron glowed blue and a puff of magic smoke erupted — revealing… a frog.

Sleeping Beauty groaned. “Of course.”

But Cinderella squealed with excitement. “A frog prince! May I?”

With permission granted, Cinderella kissed the frog — and poof! — a tiny dwarf stood before them, dusting himself off.

“I’m Confident,” he declared proudly.

“Perfect!” Cinderella beamed. “Come join me and the others!” And just like that, Cinderella became the proud housemate of eight dwarfs.

As for Sleeping Beauty, she realized she didn’t need a prince. She had magic now. She became the new fairy, living in the enchanted tower, occasionally crafting spells, sometimes accidentally making frogs, and always laughing at the memory of her chaotic prince.

✅ Moral of the Story

Not every princess needs a prince — sometimes a little magic, some good friends, and a dash of independence make for the happiest ever after.