Imported Poems

Part III in the short story series, which is really Part II after dividing it up in sections.

The next morning our noble knight arose and, donning her best dress, started towards Prince Charming’s castle. It had been years since she had worn a dress, and - well, that’s not exactly true. She had never worn a dress, nor was this particularly her best one, but some details must be sacrificed for the sake of the story. Suffice it to say, she looked prettier than your average, cross-dressing knight, despite the fact that she found the corset terribly constricting - but that’s what happens when you wear it backwards.
In any case she safely arrived at the castle and knocked on the door. Presently some old slag from East London opened it. “Are you the Hoover guy?” she asked, peering out from behind the door.
“Uh, no,” our newly adorned Knight replied, pointing to the guy behind her. “That’s him.”
“Well, are you a salesmen, then.? I already own a subscription to Undertaker Fashion .”
“No…I’m neither a guy nor a salesMAN. Haven’t you not noticed I’m wearing a dress?” quipped Ms Tanya.
“Oh, I thought you were a boy. Well, what is it you want? I haven’t got all day.”
“I’m the princess from Kingdom…um….”
“Kingdom Um? I haven’t heard of it.” declared the old whore. “Is that located in in the British Isles?”
“No, that’s Kingdom Erm. I’m from Kingdom…Acrossthway, and I’ve come seeking your son’s hand in marriage. I hear he’s terribly charming.”
Suddenly - and much to the dismay of British midgets everywhere - a very scary giant entered the room. “Fe! Fi! Fo! Fum! I smell the blood of an Englishman!” he growled angrily, then taking one look at our heroine, asked in his most polite voice, “Are you Jack?”
“Does Jack wear dresses?” Ms Tanya seethed, or rather, simmered for twenty minutes. “Cos if so, I might be him, or else, I’m somebody else, and you’re in the wrong script.”
“Ah, I thought you were a boy.”
“Oh, shut-up!” snipped our faux princess . “I’ve come seeking your son’s hand in marriage.”
“Who - Charming? Hah! I don’t know if he’ll fancy you or not. He’s a bit queer in his tastes.”
“So I’ve heard, but I think he’ll favor me if you’ll allow me to speak with him.”
The large giant, which is a redundant statement, sighed. “Suit yourself”.
“Gladly,” Ms Tanya cried, then changed into her fanciest tuxedo.
Meanwhile, the Queen departed the room, and soon returned with her son in tow, for he wouldn’t have come otherwise. “This is Princess…erm…”, she said, pointing to our phony princess.
“No, Erm is in the British Isles.” said our Knight. “I’m from Acrossthway. My name is…my name is…my name is….Tim.”
“Tim?” everyone shouted.
“What kind of name is that?” inquired the old skank.
“It’s an Enchanter’s name, one whose origins are great disputed by etymologists today. Some trace its ancestry to Latin, meaning “one who is afraid of God” while others support the Proto Indo-European theory, meaning “destroyer of fingers”. However many theorists, including myself , hold that it originated in Greece, and is translated “one who honors moths”.
“Oh,” muttered the old battleax, who by now was making eyes at the Hoover repairman.
Taking advantage of the momentary silence, Princess Tim quickly escorted Charming out the back door, for by now it was a well-known fact the prince preferred backdoors.
“So, tell me Prince, do you think I‘m pretty?” she squeaked in a male falsetto, batting her eyelashes at him.
“No, and you should really take care of that nervous condition. Your eyes are blinking entirely too fast.”
“Uh, thanks,“ she replied, immediately ceasing her orbital paroxysms. Well, would you find me attractive if I were a man?”
The Prince frowned. “I thought you were a girl.”
“Oh shut-up!” our Knight declared, rolling her eyes. “ Can‘t you tell a tranny when you see one, man?”
“Not always. Once I knew a princess with a glass slipper…”
“Oh yes, the glass-slipper girl…I‘ve heard the rumors.”
“… but she was nothing compared to the frog snogger. One evening, whist engaged in the consumption of sundry dead insects, this 350 pound heifer picks me up and kisses me! And she thinks I’m going to marry her for it - can you imagine? I told her “Frog snogging does not a marriage make!” and walked off. I swear, some people have such a sense of entitlement.”
“Um, what does this have to do with the glass slipper girl?”
“Nothing. It’s information the author slipped in for edification of the storyline. Did I tell you I cast a sleeping spell on Princess Heifer and told Beautiful’s parents about it? They made him go kiss her. If I could have been a fly on the wall - or rather, a frog in the pond eating those flies. So, have you come to pluck me from the bosom of my parents and carry me away to your castle?”
“More or less, I guess, considering I am a Knight. You say you sent Beautiful to wake her?”
“Yes. See that castle over there across the woods?” the Prince asked, pointing to some turrets jutting up from the tree tops. “He’s imprisoned in one of the turrets. He sits there all day, brushing those long flowing brunette locks of his and sewing on that damn machine - the stupid bastard.”
“Why is he a stupid bastard?”
“If you spent all day combing your hair and sewing you’d be stupid too. <in a mock voice> ‘Oh, look at me!’ I’m so beautiful! Look at my long, flowing hair and my pretty brown eyes! Do you like the new apron I made?’”
“You say he‘s imprisoned. What did he do?”
“Oh hang it! It’s the mirror’s fault. I bought this antique glass that was supposed to tell me the fairest in the country. So I ask it “Mirror, mirror on the wall, whose the fairest of them all?” to which is replies “How in the bloody hell am I supposed to know? I’m just a mirror!” but I knew it was him, so I put a spell on him and everyone in his castle.”
“What kind of spell?”
“I don’t know. Just a spell - one of those ‘lock him in the tower until a handsome knight who is really a woman in disguise kills the cave dragon’ sort of enchantment‘. Did you say you were a knight?”
“No. I said I like night. I also like quiet evenings at home and long walks on the beach but that is beside the point. How can this supposed knight kill a dragon when there are no dragons in this story?”
“Why, that’s the very point.”
“But it’s madness! How can you predicate spell-breaking on a non-existent entity?!” Ms Tanya declared, stomping her foot.
“I never said I was sane.”
‘True. True.”
“And why are you so interested anyway?” the Prince asked, raising a froggie-eyebrow at her. “I thought you had come to pluck me from the bosom of my parents.”
“That’s going to be difficult. You’re wedged in tightly between two very large mountain peaks, and those just belong to your father. Why a cave dragon though? Of all places…”
“…because caves are scary,” the Prince whispered, hesitantly “They’re large, moist, dark places, extremely hot and dripping wet, and men who enter them almost never return.”
Our Knight nodded her head knowingly. “Were you abused as a child?”
“No, I don’t think so, but I was a frog then.”
“I see. Well, I’ll be back tomorrow with a crowbar.”
“A crowbar!” The prince proclaimed. “What for?”
“To unwedge you. Till then,” our noble knight replied, and as she walked away she wondered to herself how a Prince could be such a Queen.