God, the hardships I must endure! What princess should be forced to write her own FanFiction? Get on it, Internet. But, in the meantime - please partake of “my” royal adventures thus far this morning….
The chronicle of her most divine and lovely majesty, the Princess Viragette, upon her triumphant Tuesday morning
Chase Laurie Ozett** stumbled strode forth into the windswept Tuesday morning. Dark grey clouds swept across the sky, and her heavy, tousled, fabulous, not-at-all-frizzy-or-greasy-even-though-she-just-woke-up chestnut locks stirred even in the sheltered stone portico. She surveyed her domain with a critical eye, a sly grin of pleasure gracing her luscious ruby lips, as she contemplated her magnificent good governance. Dammit, she was fabulous: she had remembered to set out have the trash set out last evening. Just then, the portcullis slammed shut behind her.
“Watch it! Don’t shut the gates on my train you damned animals!” she bellowed at her legions of flying monkeys faithful subjects.
She sighed at her companion, Sir Jasper, inflating her lovely bodice to gorgeous effect. He wagged his tail politely. She took up the plastic bags train of her gown and was dragged down swept down the path. A brisk, chill wind was at their backs as she and Sir Jasper conducted the business of touring the domain. Soon her mind had begun to wander. She stood by, looking regal and patient, her lovely brows slightly furrowed, as Sir Jasper peed on every clump of grass in a 5 block radius completed a detailed survey of the state of the realm. “My tiny waist is offset to good effect by the tugging of this leash,” she thought.
Their quest was long and cold that morning. Soon, her fingers were numb upon the leash jeweled whip she held. They met several compatriots of Sir Jasper, and she made awkward small talk while spinning in circles to untangle the leash a fabulous impression on the local nobility while he sniffed the butts of their dogs and tried to hump their legs was a perfect gentleman.
They passed magnificent spectacles and the truck of some jackass decorated with those silver chicks on his mudflaps tragic misfortunes, and her benevolent highness contemplated the ways in which she would come back that evening and vandalize it set such wrongs aright.
And I say unto you that her lovely highness cannot think of a clever ending right now and this is why she needs a chronicler did all this even before partaking of coffee and chocolate.
** But for good fortune, this would have been my fate. “Chase.” Seriously.
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