Tall Tales Of Stuit Hall: Legend Of The Brothers Stuit
I’m sure you’ve heard of the Brothers Grimm - aka Jacob and Wilhelm. They published folklore such as Rumpelstiltskin, the story about a tiny con artist who was bested by a woman and tore himself in half. Besides being super fun at parties, Jacob and Wilhelm spent most of their life studying folkloristics.
Maybe you already knew that, but what you didn’t know is that Jacob and Wilhelm had a third brother, and his name was Dewey Stuit.
Dewey wasn’t as popular as Jacob and Wilhelm. He wanted to study psychology, not fairy tales. Nothing Dewey did was ever enough. Just like Kevin Jonas, he was forgotten.
Years – hell, centuries of resentment towards his brothers built up until he finally snapped. Splitting his time between Iowa City and 18th-century Prussia, he followed his brothers: watching, waiting, and preparing to enact his revenge.
He spent hours crafting letters to Jacob and Wilhelm, posing as Sue Duette, a young maiden all alone, in a house haunted by the ghosts of famous folklorists. Dewey sent many letters pleading with the brothers to come investigate, promising them long-lost stories from the undead.
On the evening of October 29th, 1925, Dewey would finally get his lick back.
According to long-lost accounts of the incident…
“Iowa City is pretty far from Prussia…” said Wilhelm, the more sensible of the two.
“Wilhelm. Bro. She wants us so bad.” Jacob pleaded.
“It’s not every day a maiden writes us so many invitations…” Wilhelm said, mostly to himself.
“And she knows folklore!!”
“God damnit, Jacob, you’re right.”
And so it was decided. The brothers would go to Iowa City to meet Sue, the girl of their dreams.
When they arrived, they were anxious to finally set their eyes upon a woman (the first in their life!). Dewey sat inside, peering at them from the window. He locked eyes with Jacob and ducked down.
“Shit!! Shit. Shit. Shit.” Dewey was a wreck. How could he be so careless?
Wilhelm and Jacob were on their way inside when they heard a soft voice coming from above.
“Hello?” Jacob called out. “Sue, is that you?”
“Just one moment!” Dewey whispered in the softest voice he could manage.
“Holy shit. I think she has bronchitis.” Wilhelm whispered.
Scrambling to put his plan in motion, Dewey hurried up the stairs to the top floor, where he conducted most of his surveillance. As he gathered his materials, Jacob and Wilhelm slowly made their way up to the attic, opened the first door on the left, and found a room with only a twin bed, a desk, and some parchment.
Jacob went to the desk and picked up the paper atop titled: My Plan To Prank My Brothers, signed by Dewey Stuit. Thinking with his quill and not his brain, Jacob dismissed it and said to Wilhelm:
“Where is Sue? I hope she’s okay…”
Just then the door slammed behind them, Dewey locked it from the outside! He had finally bested his brothers. They banged their fists on the door, but to no avail.
Dewey had won. He would have the last laugh. Not them.
Well, it just so happened that Dewey had left the spare key atop his desk, next to his master plan. While he cackled maniacally, his brothers had found the key. They bust down the door, knocking him down the stairs.
Dewey tumbled, ripping through the plastic wrap he covered in caulk, past the fans blowing feathers all over him, slipping on the Micro Machines™ scattered on the floor, and was knocked unconscious by the paint cans swinging above the stairs.
Jacob and Wilhelm, having seen all of this, carefully walked to Dewey.
Laughing out loud, Jacob proclaimed: “Holy wasted.”
“Oh brother, you should’ve known not to mess with us,” said Wilhelm.
“Grimm always comes out on top!” Jacob shouted.
The two walked down the stairs and out the door… and slipped in a puddle of a drunk girl’s vomit.
“Halloweekend is no joke,” said the girl’s friend, who was holding back her hair.
At that moment, a group of men passed by and spat used Zyns onto the brothers.
“Damn, those two ate shit!!”
So, there the brothers lay, covered in jello shots, Malibu pineapple, and 3mg Wintergreen Zyns.
Let their story serve as a warning – never put a maiden over your brother, and don’t drink the jello shots. Happy Hallowekend, Iowa Shitty.