I was inspired to write a sequel to The Mailman and the Princess, and this much longer story sprang into being. Personally, it's my favorite between the two. But it might take you a couple of parts to understand why...
The Crybaby and the Elf
(And
also a really mean dragon)
By
Hannah
Williams
In
the whole wide world, there was not a name worse than Wailbaby
Odread Burgle. And in the whole wide world, there was not a girl who deserved it
more than the one upon which it was bestowed.
Wailbaby was a dazzlingly beautiful
girl and when she looked at her reflection she could pretend her name was
something gorgeous like Lasringa Briazethia Shemarei. Or at least
Colletiatessa, like the other princess in the next kingdom over.
But Wailbaby was her name from the moment
she was born and wailed with such gusto that the nurses had to stuff cotton in
their ears to save their hearing. Ever since Wailbaby was dreadfully spoiled
because her parents, the king and queen of Pluopia, lived in dread that her
screams would bring the castle tumbling down, despite the fact that the pillars
were made of iron.
So when Princess Wailbaby decided
she wanted to be the richest gal in the world, the king and queen found
themselves in Monopoly.
No really, they were playing
Monopoly when the door slammed open.
There in an extravagant purple gown
was the explosively beautiful Princess Wailbaby, and explosive was an apt
description for her golden hair that usually swept several feet behind her was
so frizzed out it filled the entire doorway. Her face had lost its princess pallor
and matched the hue of the dress. Her blue eyes, not languid like summer pools,
flared like the hottest flame.
“I ain’t rich!” she shrieked.
The king was so astonished he broke
off his greedy chuckle and let his fake $500 paper bill slip from his bejeweled
grasp.
The queen recovered her power of
speech first for she was rarely without it. “My pearly pumpkin, you are unbelievably
rich. You are a princess, my pet.”
Wailbaby shoved out her lower lip
four inches. “Ain’t good enough.”
With a squeaky noise, the king wrung
his finger in his ear. “Darling dove, please do not say “ain’t” here after.”
“Ain’t going to.” Her lip trembled.
Recognizing the signs of impending
doom, the queen slapped the king’s finger out of his ear and said, “Sweet
sugar, what is you want?”
“Wanna be the richest gal in the
world.”
The king groaned, expelling enough
air to create a small tornado which swept up all the paper Monopoly money which
landed at the princess’s feet.
“That ain’t real loot!”
The queen snapped her fingers. “I’ve
got it! The next kingdom over ruled by King Rifolard the 10th!
They’re as rich as a magpie in a pirates cave! We’ll capture their queen and
ask for a ransom!”
Wiping her nose, Wailbaby asked,
“Why not Princess Colletiatessa? She drives me nuts.”
“No, she’s vicious as a wildcat. Yes
sir, a ransom will get the job done.”
Note
to reader: For those of you have read The Mailman and the Princess, they will recall how this dastardly design
was thwarted by a mailman named Bill, the princess Colletiatessa, and how they
had adventures with towers, trolls, true love, and also a really cool phoenix.
“Well, that didn’t work,” The king
said glumly.
“Ain’t fair!” Wailbaby groused.
“Collestessa even got herself a man out of the deal. Hear he don’t look like
much, but that don’t change the fact that she got herself a man. A man!” With
an anguished groan she collapsed upon the bed as gracefully as hippo
breakdancing, which is to say, not gracefully at all. Rolling over, she buried
her face in the pillow broke loose with bellowing wails. To the fortune of all,
the cushion absorbed the sound.
Five ear-throbbing minutes later,
she popped up, bright and cheerful. “Mop and Pop, I don’t wanna be the richest
gal in the world anymore!”
A big sigh of relief.
“I wanna get married!”
Horror. Speechless horror. Then came
the screams.
Far off in the other kingdom, Bill
and his lovely wife paused in their game of Wii Battle. “Colletiatessa, my
dear, do you that that squealing?”
With a pirouette, she thrust forward
her Wii controller like a sword. “Yeah. It’s that goblin I just spitted.”
Bill shook his head. “Sounds like
some pig getting slaughtered.”
“Watch out for that troll!” she
yelled, causing him to duck, before he remembered it was just on a screen.
We return to the castle room in
Pluopia that contains a blissful Wailbaby lost in dreams of love and a pair of
terrified parents.
The king was the first to calm down.
“Wait…this…this is good. She gets married and she goes to live somewhere else!
Euereka!” When he leapt in the air for joy, his head hid the chandelier and
knocked it down.
After a dramatic episode in which
the castle almost burned down, the queen extinguished the fire with the bucket
of tears Wailbaby kept for her bed at night.
The royal couple rested in the
chairs, getting dizzy from seeing the princess whirl around the rooms.
“He must be the handsomest!” she
gushed. “He must have hair as radient as the heart of the sun and eyes as blue as
the soul of the sea! He can be rich too! That way I kill two birds with one
stone! Oh, weee!” She bounced up and down, before flying out of the room.
The queen picked up the paper money
and looked solemnly at her husband. “Well, George. What are we to do?”
He sighed. “I don’t know, Mizelbeth.
I just don’t know.”
In the end, they sent several
photographers out over the entire world to seek out eligible young men for
their daughter. After a week of Wailbaby asking, “Are they here yet? Are they
here yet?” the photographers returned.
The photos were bound in ten inch
thick book which the princess eagerly snatched. Curling up in her beanbag, she
began to pour over it. An hour later though, she had become fretful. “They don’t
look a smidge like my dream-man,” she whined.
The king made a sonorous sound (everyone
thought he was clearing his throat, when in fact his tummy was rumbling). “My beautiful bunny, your expectations are gargantuan.
They very well might be impossible.” His gaze drifted towards the kitchens.
Moping, Wailbaby flipped to the next
page. “Ohmigosh! There he is!” she screamed
It did appear to be so. His hair and
eyes were the right hue, as amazing as that might be. And he wore a sugary
smile that he indicated he knew all the flattering, mushy compliments to say.
“I’ll marry him at once!” declared
Wailbaby, clasping her hands to her heard.
Nervously, Queen Mizelbeth said, “Um,
dear, there is a problem. He’s from the country of Gibber and only speaks Gibberish.”
Wailbaby was stunned. “I won’t be
able to understand him?”
“That’s correct.”
Her face puckered up for a second,
but then she turned to the next page. “Oh well. He wasn’t that rich anyways.”
But none of the other princes matched
her ideal hero. Wailbaby cried herself to sleep.
The very next morning, a messenger
ran up to the room where the king stood awkwardly watching the queen pat the princess
in an effort to comfort her.
Upon hearing the message whispered
in his ear, King George leapt high, narrowly missing the chandelier. “Great
Scott! Mizelbeth, we must clean up post-haste! There is a messenger from the Eretheal
Wood and elves don’t like to be kept waiting! Hurry! I’ve got to curl my bear!”
He stampeded out.
“What about elves?” Wailbaby queried,
looking up, her face aglow with interest.
“They’ve got some message. Clean up
and meet us out there,” The queen said crossly before hurrying away.
While they are getting ready, let me
say a word or two about elves Eretheal Wood. The elves lived only in that wood,
directly west of Pluopia. They rarely ventured out and had little to do with
humans. They were said to be wise and fair and somehow heard news first, which
was curious since, as aforesaid, they rarely left home. Their wood was thick
with fir, ferns, and flowers, and at night, a golden glow lit under the boughs. A
human had never, I repeat, never entered this wood, so my description of it
ends now.
The king and queen, primped and
puffed, strutted to their thrones and descended onto their seats. The large
court spread out before them: the nobles, the servants, the soldiers. And right
before them, on the center of the sun on the mosaic floor, stood the elf.
He couldn’t have been mistaken for
anything else. He was garbed in green and brown, with a cloak clasped to one
shoulder, the other end, attached to his belt. Though not impressively tall
like some of his kin, he held himself straight. His hair was midnight dark and
his forest green eyes kept darting suspiciously around the room like he
suspected the court of some dark design. But besides the pointed ears, the hair
was the dead give-away.
At that time, long hair for guys was
not “in” and elves were the only ones whose men still grew their hair past
their shoulders. In humandom, crew-cuts were the rage.
The elf stepped up the throne and
silently handed the king a scroll of birch bark tied with vine maple. The king glanced at the scroll in confusion,
for it was proper for the messenger to read the scroll.
The elf looked anxious. “Take it,”
he urged.
Feeling mistreated, King George took
it, but before he could open it, disaster descended.
Princess Wailbaby Ordread Burgle
came through the doorway behind the thrones. She saw the king. She saw the
scroll. She saw the elf.
Her parents were never able to
understand what happened next, because he looked nothing like her requirement.
But Wailbaby drew herself up to her
full height and majestically proclaimed, “Mother, Father, that is the man I must marry.”
The king was speechless.
The queen was speechless.
Everyone was speechless.
Except the elf.
“Excuse me?” he managed to say.
The queen leapt up. “My enthusiastic
emerald, you can’t marry him!”
“Of course I can!” she squealed.
King George recovered his voice. “Cute
carnation, this is not on those times when you can point to something and get
it.”
Eyes clouding, she snapped, “Why
not?” For her part, she truly did not understand. From the moment she was born,
anything she wanted was automatically hers. Why were husbands any different? “I’ll
cry if you won’t let me have him! I’ll cry and bring the roof down!” she
stormed.
The servants bolted for the emergency
exit.
Pushing back his crown, the king groaned
and looked beseechingly at the elf. “Will you marry my daughter?”
“No way!” he cried, incredulous.
“What do you mean?” the princess
wailed.
The nobles ran out the door.
The nobles ran out the door.
The confused and freaked-out
expression now fading, the elf looked angry. “I refuse. No consent. I won’t.
Forget it. You’re crazy. Understand now?”
The princess stamped her foot and
her eyes began to pool with tears.
The soldiers rushed out the door.
Throwing up her hands, the queen
said, “I supposed we could lock him in the dungeons, no food or water, until he
agrees.”
“Yes, and have the whole elven army
on us,” the king said sarcastically. “And if they don’t do anything, we’ll be
walking through the garden and a tree will fall on us. No thanks.” He frowned
at his daughter. “Wailbaby, I put my foot down.” He did so. “You can’t force
someone to marry you. End of conversation.”
She fled the room, sobbing.
Rubbing his head, the King said in a
weary tone, “Elf, you may go now.”
Not needing any dismissal, the elf
hurried out. If he had not been so flustered, he would have made sure the king
had read the message. But as he was upset and rather shaken, all he thought
about was getting out of that crazy kingdom.
As it was, the king had dropped the
scroll during the flurry and it had rolled underneath the throne. There it lay,
forgotten…and unread.
To
be continued…
6 comments:
Ooh, I like that one! I feel so bad for that poor confused messenger. : ) Part two, please?
That scroll ...
Oh, already my attention has been latched a hold of!
*chortles*
I like the connection between this and the mailman story.
this is the beginning of a series I hope?
I like the part about the king going to curl his BEAR.
Thanks, girls! I cracked up while writing the story and I hope you will enjoy each part!
LOVING this story!! So FUNNY!
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