THE PRINCESS AND THE PINKIE NAIL

"Oh drat it!" cried the prince of Grottenville. "How many times do I have to tell you, Mother? I refuse to marry Princess Petunia. I don't love her, and she has far too many poodles. It just aggravates my sinuses. What don't you understand?" The prince was getting quite worked up, and it was a converstaion that repeated itself at least three times a week. Queen Holandasia was at her wit's end. The economic climate in Grottenville was absolutely awful, and all that was needed was a marriage between her son, Prince William, and the rich rather brattish (but who cared about that when the folks were loaded?) Princess Petunia of Petulasia. Oh what a great kingdom that was, all rolling hills and sunshine, good crops and awesome tourist trade. In the queen's eyes, a union between William and the darling Princess of Petulasia was surely a match made in heaven. What did the silly child know about love anyway? "Darling," crooned the queen,"Princess Petunia is a delightful creature, and everything has been arranged. Now not another word about it; do you hear?" Prince William bit his tongue-no, not like keeping your mouth shut; he really bit his tongue-and yelled in pain. "Oh for heaven's sake," cried the Queen. "There is no need for such drama." "But I bit my tongue. Ooh oooh. It is excruciating." The prince was holding the side of his face. "And it is all your fault, Mother! These pilchard sandwiches are awful, and the bread is as hard as a rock. I bit down really hard on this particular sandwich and took a geat bite out of my own tongue." "Oh, you are so ungrateful. I got a really good deal on this shipment of pilchards in tomatoe sauce. And it is not my fault that Grottenville has been in such a crisis. How we've managed these last ten years...I really do not know how we've done it." The queen sighed and stared at the rather unimpressive pilchard sandwich lying on the table. "Just to think-all that beautiful china we used to eat off, and now the butler has to plonk everything down on this cheap and tacky plastic reusable tablecloth." "Oh, Mother, when are you going to get that bottle of gin because I have been hoping to taste it?" the prince interrupted. "What bottle of gin?" asked the queen, eyeing her son suspiciously. "Have you been snooping around in my royal chamber again? I've told you a million times not to meddle with my stuff, you cheeky little brat." "Oh, Mother, how could you say that to your only son?" replied the Prince looking all pathetic and wounded. "Stop trying to change the subject," retorted his mother. "We have a wedding to plan. Pink roses, green roses-I don't know which ones to choose. I wonder what Princess Petunia would like on her wedding day." Suddenly, a crash of thunder shook the room and a flash of lightning lit up the sky. "Oh great," said the queen,"I left the carriage door open. Snootenville!!! Come here now!" Bits of spit were flying out of the queen's royal mouth, and a speck landed on Prince William's cheek. '"Gross, Mother," exclaimed the prince. "Can't you keep your royal slobber to yourself?" The door to the royal dining room was flung open, and there stood Snootenville the butler. "You called, Madame?" enquired Snootenville with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. His rather large nose was pointing towards the royal pressed ceiling. The butler really had absolutely no time for the queen at all. His rather prompt entrance was not due to any desire to serve the queen. He just happened to be eavesdropping outside the dining room door. Snootenville loved sharing all the royal gossip with the other kitchen staff. "Snootenville," said the queen in an overdramatic voice, "I have left the royal carriage door open!" "Splendid," replied Snootenville. "That carriage was in need of a good clean anyway." With that, he stepped backwards to exit the room. "Whaaat!" exclaimed the queen. "Go close the door immediately. I order you, Snootenville. And what are you trying to imply anyway? That carriage is spotless." "Really," said Snootenville. "Well I had better be off then." Just then, a loud knocking was heard at the front door, followed by yet another crash of thunder and a flash of lightning. And a shriek! "Now who can that be?" wondered the queen. "Off you go then, Snootenville. Attend to our visitor and then see to that carriage door." The queen ignored the glare that Snootenville gave her, picked up a second pilchard sandwich, and took a rather large bite out of it. "Delicious," she said, crunching away at the crusty bread.