Horribly Ever After

A funky twist on Happily Ever After. Rather comical.

Once upon a time, there lived a spoiled, blonde brat who wore entirely too much pink. She was one of those kids who’s lucky enough to be born with so many advantages, instead of, say, an unwanted daughter in a family of sons like m -. Never mind." I halt my rant for a moment to glare at my prisoners, more out of the shame of nearly telling them about me than anything. However, they’re not bright enough to have caught my little slip-up, so I just continue. "Anywhoo, this blonde b***h-"

"I am not a-" The b***h herself interrupts me haughtily.

"As I was saying," I shut her up with a sharp kick to her perfect little shins and a glare. "This blonde b***h was born to, wouldn’t ya know it, a king and a queen who always wanted a child, and finally, this blonde Barbie answers their prayers. But then, along comes the "Wicked Witch" who "curses" this coddled-" I’m interrupted again as Princess Brat looks all affronted about my quote marks around the witch’s name and the curse part. "Look, Barbie, shut up! I’m the one monologue-ing here! Where was I?" I’m asking rhetorically, but Pretty Boy in the corner actually uses his powers of speech for once.

"‘Coddled’, I believe." I can tell from his expression that he likes my story. Good.

"Ah, yes. Thanks." I smile automatically, then catch myself and scowl. "Witch curses princess, and everyone’s suddenly so sad. Seriously, have you never heard of AIDS?" Once again rhetoric, but Princess Collagen actually opens those falsely-plump lips to prattle something.

"Anyway," I glare at her, effectively shutting her up before continuing. "Even though the only thing Blondie has to do to not mess up her life is not prick her perfect little finger on a needle, she somehow manages to do so anyway. I mean, honestly, you parents go and burn every possible pointy thing in the entire kingdom, and that’s a helluva lot of poor villagers out of work now. All these people have no way of making a living now, just so you don’t hurt herself. And, by the way? You somehow found the only needle left and prick yourself. How stupid could you be?" She gasps in outrage or something, but it’s not a particularly impressing expression. I guess when you’ve had as much plastic surgery as the Queen of Plastic, here, has had, it’s hard to make your face actually move. Ah well.

"So," I take a breath and near the end of my story. "Despite all the trouble her family and her kingdom go through for Little Miss Muffet here, she still gets all cursed, and then some "handsome" prince has to fight some dragon just to save her worthless a*s. Then he wakes her up with some BS ‘Kiss of true love’ or whatever, and they go off and ‘live happily ever after.’" Disgusting. I almost vomit, but then notice Pretty Boy’s waving his shackled hand.

"Whaddaya want, Fabio?" I demand, my mind already on how I want Barbie to kick the bucket. I’m thinking maybe a heckuva lot of needles is the way to go, but then again if her nasty blood gets on my nice stone floor it’ll be hell to clean up.

"Well, I feel I should interject," the Pretty Boy’s talking. I should probably listen. Just to humor him. "I’m a Prince. I graduated top of my class in the Rescuing of Princesses, Maidens and General Damsels in Distress. Rescuing is what I do. And the Kiss of True Love, that’s just tradition." The expression on his disturbingly perfect face lets me know I should care. But I don’t.

"What’s your point?" I begin picking the herb fragments from beneath my fingernails with my dagger, listening a little.

"Well... Don’t kill me? It’s not my fault she’s daft as headless chicken." Pretty Boy tries to fold his arms but the shackles are holding him to the wall. Barbie gasps in outrage again, and it’s the exact same noise as before. I wonder if she practices this stuff.

I’m mildly amused, so I wave my hand and the shackles fall. "Fine, just no rescuing idiots. There’s far too many already." The Fairy Boy leaps to his feet in a gay manner as I turn back to Blondie. Who’s going on about how her prince or whatever isn’t supposed to abandon her.

I’ve had quite enough of her general stupidity, so I decide upon a spell to fix her little red wagon. I march determinedly over to the shelves that hold my herbs and potions and such, and choose the correct bottle. It’s finally time for the evil laugh, and the excitement is killing me.

I throw my head back and cackle maniacally. It is fantastic. Not much is more fun than an evil laugh, perfectly executed as mine was. Princess of the Bottle Blondes even shuts up to listen.

I throw the potion at Barbie’s horrible pink dress – seriously, what’s the deal with princesses and pink? – and say the spell. "Knick Knack, Pattywhack, give a dog a bone. Turn this pink princess into a burned blueberry scone." Now, since the words are a little... goofy, I say them in Latin. Makes it sound better. And she’s not actually going to be a blueberry scone. That would just be murder. Scones, burned or not, don’t last long around here. No, I’ll turn her into something that’ll make her learn a lesson. And maybe actually have some character. That was essentially the point of all this. To teach her worthless butt something.

There’s a rather ominous poof of blue smoke, and then instead of a blonde in a dress, there’s an ugly little Pomeranian. I can’t help but throw my head back and laugh.

"Excuse me?" Pretty Boy interrupts my evil cackle # 2, and I rethink my letting-him-go thing. "Sorry, but I can’t find the door out."

I begin to turn him into gecko – no one does frogs anymore, since peasants and princesses alike just go around kissing them in hopes of finding a prince – but rethink this. "If you take the Pomeranian with you, I’ll gladly show you out." Two birds, one stone. I love being evil.

And they all lived Horribly Ever After. Just the way I like it.