December 31, 2008

Fat Princess and Innocent Pea

For Karen, my favorite princess ;)

She was huge, this Fat Princess of ours. Not due to some genetic condition or anything she could control, because then we wouldn't make fun of her. She was fat because she was lazy, greedy and ate way too many fried chicken wings. And the Pea is exactly what it sounds like. An unappetizing, nasty, weird green, low-calorie piece of nutritious shit. Put food and our Fat Princess together, and what do you get? An eaten pea and a still very hungry, unhappy, slightly jigglier around-the-thighs Fat Princess. You need to understand that the Pea was just a helpless little thing and the villain was Fat Princess. But this is a happy story.

It was a dark and stormy night. Fat Princess had been out hunting for plus-size clothing the whole day. Since no one was as fat as her in the whole kingdom, and also since her clothes were all made by the town tent-maker, the whole thing was an exercise in futility. I don't really mean “exercise” literally, because on the way she managed to snack at every KFC in town, and the place wasn't called Kentucksyville for nothing. (KFC = Kentucksyville Friggin' Chicken, their motto “Just friggin' eat this shit”) Pretty futile, like I said. At the end of the day, our fair (pimpled, not hot, and certainly NOT wise) maiden got really pissed off. What the fuck?, she asked herself loudly with her mouth full, making people stare. I need a fuckin' break. She decided to party. Being a Princess has advantages. You can force subjects (hot guys AND hot girls) to dance with you and cut their heads off if they used the words “fat”. Or “plus-sized”. Or even “obese”.

Or “chubby”. She hated “chubby” so much.

It was 3 a.m. Fat Princess was feeling very trippy. She had smoked enough pot to forget life's large problems (pun intended), and was currently engaged in winning her seventh consecutive beer-pong contest. Suddenly she looked at the clock on her arm. It was actually a clock made for the church tower but ordinary watches were too small to be held in place by the long, thick ropes needed to strap the face around her trunk-like wrist. It was late, she realized. She suddenly had an idea (not being wise), and decided she should just go for a jog, lose some weight, get motivated, think about droppin a quarter pound or so, maybe even brush her teeth once a week or something. The pot was obviously laced.

She waddled for about a minute and reached a poor man's house. Please may I come in?, she asked meekly. She was high, remember. Otherwise she didn't do meek, our Fat Princess. She was what you call “In your FACE, BITCHES”. The poor man (actually a handsome prince put under a spell by a nasty witch, because otherwise this won't be a fairy tale) let her in, wringing his hands and hoping she wouldn't come close to him. This was of course, impossible, as her hips touched both walls at once, but he hoped for the best. He was better off being a poor man than becoming husband to the Lastest of the Bra Sizes. Can I please get eight bottles of whiskey please? To start with?, she asked in the tone of an angel. He shuddered. He downed several shots himself and contemplated suicide.

At 5:00 in the morning, he showed her to the bedroom and tried to edge out, without creating sexual friction. At 5:01, Fat Princess discovered the Pea. At 5:02, she ate it. At 5:03, she turned around and kicked the poor man's ass up through the chimney because there weren't more peas left in the house and she was, as she herself so neatly put it, “sooooooooo fuckin' hungry, you dick”. At 5:03 two things happened. 1. Fat Princess went to sleep in desperation and her snoring woke up 3,092,245,293 men who had to go to work in a few hours. 2. The poor man turned into The Prince. According to the Spell Law Book, 347th edition, “If a poor man is kicked up the chimney by a princess who is inebriated AND high on weed, he will find himself turned back into a prince and find himself falling through the royal bedchamber of her parents, to his immense horror and dissatisfaction. At 5:04, he found himself falling through the royal bed chamber where the King and Queen of Kentucksyville were sleeping. At 5:05 they were no longer sleeping. At 5:06, the Prince had begun his story.

It started with the Pea, he began. It was a dark and stormy night, he continued. Say no more, say no more, shrieked the Queen delightedly. I know the story. I saw something similar on Oprah. Fat Princess felt the Pea through the million mattresses in your Palace and you loved her because she is true royalty just like you and you came to ask for her hand in marriage. Say no more. She gazed at him dreamily. He was an answer to prayers. Now they wouldn't have to restock the Royal Refrigerator on the hour, every hour. The Prince would just have to go bankrupt feeding Fatty, as they nearly had. Oh well, his problem. The Queen was jubilant. The King just said, What the fuck? Okay, marry her if you have bloody cataracts. You're obviously bloody insane, but I don't give a shit”. It is evident where the Princess got her language from. The Prince wrung his hands in frustration, and then went to look for a clean shirt.

The wedding was held secretly because whatever said and done, grossly obese brides do not look great on tabloid covers. The Princess started smoking, as a wedding gift to herself. She decided she had “only one fuckin' life to live, and didn't care what the world thought. Screw all those stuffy assholes!”. No one in court dared correct her language. Soon she became a chain-smoker and rapidly lost lots of weight. Once she was thin, she was so stunning and beautiful that the Prince became crazily in love with her. Shallow idiot. They lived a long, fulfilling, happy life and died at the unwise, young age of 34, she of lung cancer, and he of bronchitis due to second-hand smoke. Their deaths were peaceful, and thankfully, they did not leave successors. Death did not them part. They were buried in the same grave, hands clasped together.

The country became a democracy and went through years and years of civil war. This made the people deliriously happy as they felt they were finally “livin' it up”. The Pea lived happily ever after too, albeit in mashed form, having been digested and curtly excreted, in the Royal Septic Tank. I told you this is a happy story.


Maria said...

LMAO.. delightful! Wasn't Lesser Cinderella also along the same lines? Keep em comin. Happy New Year :-)

Anonymous said...

LOL. .yeah that was the first one of a series I'm tryin to do. Same to you :)

Joeplork said...

Hello! I keep trying to comment on the post you have that mentioned my blog but it won't bloody do it so I'll try here.

Thank you for the linking to me. Much appreciated. I do NOT update that blog anymore. However, I do still fill up my website, which is linked on the blog, with all kinds of junk, although maybe my blog was a bit cooler. I dunno. I have much to think about. Anyway, if I write a novel, which I keep saying I will so one of these days I assume it will conjure itself up out of the ether, please buy it, ok? THANNNNNKS!!!


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