The ad said: Live-in help wanted. Daily light cleaning, three-meal cooking, and grounds upkeep. Will provide room and board.

There was no address because it was in the middle of a forest where no streets ran. But everyone knew where the prince lived, and it was he who put out the advertisement. René swiped the ad from the bulletin board and hurried on his way. He needed the job, but more importantly, he needed a place to stay. He was late on his rent and had just been evicted. He wasn’t feeling down, though. A fresh start was exciting to him!

The castle stood amid a wide clearing in the forest. A stone fence and iron gate surrounded the perimeter in an unwelcoming way. René stood before the gate, ad still smooshed in his clenched fist. He took a deep breath in and then slowly exhaled. Looking around, he couldn’t see any way of indicating to anyone inside that he was waiting outside. He gently pushed the gate to see if it was unlocked, but it wouldn’t budge. So, with all his might, he shook the gate and started yelling. In an instant, a man in a black tuxedo came rushing from the front door, his pointer finger pressed against his closed lips. “Shh shh shhh!” he said once he was close to the gate. René quieted down and waited patiently as the man hurried towards him.

“What is it? Who are you?” the man in the tuxedo asked.

“Hello! My name is René Arnoux. I’m here about the live-in help the prince seeks!” René responded with strong confidence.

The man in the tuxedo looked him up and down, considered him honest, and unlocked the gate.

“Yes, yes, come in,” the man said, ushering René through the gate.

The two men hurried into the front door of the castle which shut behind them with an echoing thud.

The interview was the least formal interview René had ever been a part of. It took place right there in the foyer – standing room only – and the man in the tuxedo didn’t even have a quill and paper to take notes. This didn’t discourage René. If anything, he tried to think of it as being eccentric.

“You clean?” the man in the tuxedo asked.

“Of course! Ever since—”

“You cook?” the man in the tuxedo interrupted him.

“Y-yes, I—”

“You maintain grounds?” the man in the tuxedo interrupted again.

“Groundskeeping? Oh sure,” René stopped there, fully expecting to be interrupted a third time.

“Wonderful.” The man in the tuxedo held out his right hand. “You’re hired.”

René looked around at the huge, empty house. A part of him couldn’t believe any of it was real. “I’m… hired?”

“Can you start today?” asked the man in the tuxedo.

René smiled wide and took the man’s hand in his, giving it a firm shake. “Why, yes! Yes, I can!”

And with that began René’s descent into hell.

Every day was full of the prince yelling, belittling, breaking, antagonizing, and sulking. What the prince had to be so upset about, René had no idea. He kept quiet though, along with the rest of the live-in helpers, because like them, he needed the job and the prince took good enough care of them.

René later learned the man in the tuxedo was the prince’s majordomo, Mr. Cogsworth. While he was shy and uptight, he had a wealth of knowledge that kept René close to him. He thought the more he could learn from Cogsworth, the more he could do, meaning the faster he’d move up in the ranks. He also became close to one of the maids, Babette. She saved his ass on more than one occasion, like when he nearly mixed baking soda and vinegar when trying to make floor cleaner. She also made sure to warn him if she saw the prince headed towards him by giving two low whistles. This way he was able to stay out of the prince’s path of wrath. Then there was Sultan, the prince’s dog, not that he paid any attention to it. René formed a tight bond with this dog, as he felt he could say anything to it because it’d sit patiently, soaking up every word. On the days he regretted answering the help wanted ad, he reminded himself that he at least had a few friends by his side.

One day, the prince left the castle to head into town. This was highly unusual. Any other day he’d make one of the castle’s crew go out for him. Everybody breathed a sigh of relief when he shut the front door and could be seen through the floor-to-ceiling windows walking out of the gate.

“The fresh air will do him good,” Babette assured everyone, as if that’s all he needed to become a new man.

The day went on like any other day with everyone doing their work, but this time it was done without scorn from the prince. René in particular finally felt a shred of true happiness, not the fake happiness he had to plaster to his face whenever the prince was near.

But then things got weird.

All in the same instance, everyone in the castle had a funny feeling in the pit of their stomach. They stopped what they were doing and looked around at each other.

“I don’t feel so—” began Mrs. Potts, the head housekeeper, right before she turned into a very round teapot.

At that same time, Babette transformed into a feather duster, Cogsworth into a clock, and Sultan into an ottoman. The whole castle crew had been people (and dog) one second, and walking, talking household items the next. What just happened?

And where was René?

The prince came busting through the front door and was screaming something awful. Some of the castle crew hobbled over to see what was the matter. To their surprise, the prince was now a hairy, hunched beast, and was angrier than ever.

“That bitch!” he cursed, clawing at the shreds of jacket that remained over his chest. “That evil enchantress! She did this to me!”

Everybody slinked away as the beast raved in the foyer.

Days went by and the curse remained. Everybody sort of got used to it, being animated inanimate objects, and went on working as normal. As normal as a teapot cleaning a sink full of dirty dishes and a clock sending outgoing mail can be.

But where was René?

Four weeks went by. Babette made her way to the beast’s quarters to do her routine end-of-the-month cleaning: Dust the fixtures, sweep crumbs under the rug, and tidy up the master suite bathroom. It was when she was sweeping near the bathroom door that she heard what sounded like a soft crying behind the door. She leaned her feather duster handle head against the door and listened. It was clear as a bell that someone was in there crying. The beast was down in the kitchen for his afternoon “Eating of the Emotions”, so Babette knew it couldn’t have been him in the bathroom. She gently pushed open the door and saw to her horror that it was the toilet crying. Little spurts of water came out of the open lid and a small puddle had formed at the base. When it saw Babette, it sniffled and stopped.

“Oh, Babette,” said a familiar voice.

Babette scrunched her eyes and leaned in. “René? Is that you?”

“Yes, Babs!” sobbed the toilet. “It’s me!”

The toilet wailed and with it came a splash of water that soaked the poor feather duster. Babette tried to calm him down for the sake of not getting soaked with toilet water again, but also so the beast wouldn’t hear and come investigate.

“Dear me,” Babette shuddered. She thought of all the things the beast ate during his emotional lunches and felt sick to her stomach when she imagined what René had been going through the past month. Or more accurately, what had been going through René.

“Please kill me,” René whispered through his toilet tears.

Babette just stared at him. A moment later, the floorboards outside the bedroom creaked.

“Oh no,” Babette stared out the bathroom door wide-eyed.

In busted the beast.

“Out!” he shouted. “The tomato chutney’s coming back on me!”

Babette scurried out, but not without a quick glance at René before the beast slammed the bathroom door shut. Babette started to cry.

Pretty soon it was known around the castle what René’s fate had been. Everybody figured he must have been doing some touch-up work in the beast’s bathroom the day of the transformation, and that’s why he got stuck in there. How unlucky for him. Sultan was the only one with the courage to visit him every day. Even though the dog was now an ottoman, he enjoyed lapping up that sweet, sweet toilet water. It never failed to leave the beast in a rage when Sultan did this because the tassels of the ottoman would get soaked and leave wet spots that he’d inevitably step in. It took forever for the fur between his toes to get dry. Babette also did her best to continue warning René when the beast was approaching. Those two low whistles were the most dreadful, pipe-twisting sounds to poor René’s toilet ears. He actually missed the days when the prince yelled at him with his human voice. Now he had to endure the yelling the beast did when he couldn’t work the foie gras through his colon. That yelling was so. Much. Worse.

Years went by with the beast being beastly and his servants being cursed but still forced to work. It wasn’t until a young woman involuntarily came to live with the beast that things started to change. Over time the beast became gentler, and eventually he came to know what it meant to love and to care for others. With these new feelings came the break of the curse! It was a fine day when the curse broke and the beast became the prince again and the servants turned back into the lovely people they had been before that fateful day when their master went to town by himself.

The castle crew went to the balcony where the prince and young woman stood. They all hugged and laughed, happy to see each other in their true form, and at ease knowing the prince was now a kind soul. In the background of all this rejoicing was a haggard man, bent over, practically crawling his way to the front door. His hair was a mess, his clothes tattered, and his face had a bloated, boggy look to it. Nobody noticed him sneaking out. He wanted to leave the castle as quietly as possible and never return. He’d never be able to look Babette in the eyes again. Never again could he accept a friendly face licking from Sultan. The man left without looking back. He didn’t need a place to live that badly. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to eat again, so food didn’t matter to him anymore either. René was a changed man and he would never truly be lifted from the curse.