"The Little Mermaid" Revisted

Ariel wasn't prepared for this sort of dilemma.  She had expected a kind, handsome stranger, a mysterious yet extraordinary man to follow every fairytale ending in the books.  She had expected a beautiful dress, romantic moonlight, a quavering crescendo in the soundtrack, and a good-night kiss. She had not, to be sure, expected this. 

The universe answered her with a man, yes, if you could call him quite that.  Walking towards her, he was scarcely taller than she was (much shorter than she'd been with her mermaid's tail) and stooped curiously to the left, except when he was considering a questionable cobblestone and leaned quite precariously to the right.  He had one grey eye and one blue, a trap which every person (and now every mermaid) he had ever met had fallen for.  It wasn't quite like having one blue eye and one brown, for example, when everyone notices the difference straightaway and politely pretends they didn't.  No, they stared very hard, until their breath was almost on his scarred, rather crooked nose, when they realized their mistake and looked away quickly.  (It was an embarrassing moment for both parties.  The discomfort of such situations had left a permanent rat-like scowl on his face and a nervous habit of tapping his cane too loudly on the ground.) 

Ariel, wondering about his eyes, was about to fall right over onto the man, for she had little control over her new legs and was already leaning too far forward when she realized her mistake, when he grabbed her shoulders and straightened her up.  She was taken aback by his audacity.  "Clayton," he said authoritatively.  Ariel wasn't sure what he could be saying -- some sort of strange human curse word or interesting salutation, perhaps. 

"Come again?" she asked, tipping her chin upwards to look down her nose at him as she said it.  She wasn't even sure she wanted to know what he'd said. 

"Clayton," the man repeated.  "My name is Clayton." 

The mermaid let out a small, defeated sigh.  So it was a man - her man.  Ursula had been very clear when she said Ariel had to kiss the first man she saw, and it had to be a kiss of true love.  But Ursula hadn't (or perhaps, quite cruelly, she had) taken into account the personal hygiene and demeanors of the men who frequented the docks.  Ariel was at once repulsed and drawn closer to the strange little man.

"Ariel," she offered quietly, a little vainly, and put out her hand.  She'd have to make it work somehow.