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Rated: 13+ · Other · Comedy · #1185919
The king's daughter must learn humility and responsibility.
Once upon a bleak and dreary time, there lived a “Goth” maiden whose father was king. In these terrible, politically-correct times, he dare not refer to himself as “King,” lest he upset someone of lesser social standing. The drunken whore, otherwise known as the queen, was absent for much of the child’s upbringing, so he raised her as would any high-ranking politico or someone of money – with au pairs and nannies. He bestowed upon his daughter many lavish and shiny things, and all was good.

But despite his power, there were certain things over which the king had no control, and before he knew it, his little girl had grown woman things on her chest, sacred to men throughout the kingdom and beyond. She had also grown discourteous and temperamental, and to call her “Princess” was likely to receive a Jack-Boot between the legs. She had grown fond of dyeing her already dark hair the color of raven down, the same color as the heavy make-up adorning her eyes and lips. The only shiny thing she now dressed in were the skin-tight PVC cat suits she wore to the clubs.

Try as he might, the good king was unable to get through to his daughter, and on the day he found clove cigarettes stashed away in her royal dresser, next to a baggie filled with an aromatic herb not found in the kitchens, he decided to punish her. He summoned her to the throne room, “The captain of the royal guard has informed me that you have broken laws and brought shame unto this crown. Add to that your utter disregard for authority, plus your hideous wardrobe, and you leave your mother and me no choice.”

“Mother?”

It was then the girl noticed the crone slumped in the throne next to the king, smelling strongly of sex and Absinthe. A tattered hood covered her gray and stringy, unwashed hair, and obscured her toothless mouth. She cackled evilly.

The maiden rolled her eyes, “I’m glad you’re here to support me at my trial, Mother.”
At which point the hag vomited and passed out.

The king cleared his throat, “I will assign you three tasks as penance for your wicked actions and your abhorrent lifestyle.”

“Wait, you’re punishing me for being a free-thinking individual? Doesn’t THAT strike you as abhorrent?”

“Hush now,” the king stamped his royal scepter on the ground and told his daughter of her three challenges.

“First, you must delouse and shave all the animals and peasants in the kingdom, to rid us of pestilence.”

The princess’s shoulders sagged as she looked into the gathered crowd and found a shirtless, 350 lb man with what appeared to be the Black Forest growing from his shoulders and back. She shuddered.

“Your second task is to cut down all the trees in the surrounding forest and build a majestic casino there, which we will use to supplement the royal coffers.”

A tear fell down the girl’s cheek, “Even that little pond where you took me fishing when I was five, and we shared our only father/daughter moment?”

“Gotta go. Parking garage with upscale valet parking.”

The peasants oohed and aahed.

“Your third and final task to appease me is to cure the common cold; it makes my people feel icky, and I won’t stand for it in my kingdom!”

The crowd cheered for their good king as the maiden turned to go.

“Oh, and one more thing,” the king said, “you must finish these tasks before sunset, to teach you not to sleep until noon.”

The girl was sent out into the forest to perform her first task with nothing but a pair of left-handed safety scissors and a hairnet. She sat beneath a large tree, put her face in her hands, and cried.

An adorable little bluebird settled on a branch just above her, whereupon he asked, “Why do you cry so, child?”

“Cuz my father is a…” and the king’s daughter spouted a string of epithets that would make Old Man Disney roll over in his glass hyperbaric chamber.

The bird offered to help, but the princess shook her head, “No thanks, I got this one.”
She flipped open her cell phone and called the local D.S.S. number. She gave the kindly bluebird a wink and said, “Don’t screw with child labor laws in this state!”

They shared a laugh and both lived happily ever after.
© Copyright 2006 Fraught-With-Safety (no2freakshow at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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