Sleepless Beauty (1)
The royal parents were standing at the head of the bassinet, beaming proudly at the line of well wishers who were coming up to coo at, chuck the chin of, and generally welcome their new princess.
In addition, the twelve finely dressed (though, one must admit, oddly-mannered) people at the end of the line were fairies and it was traditional for such invitees to give special gifts to babies at naming days. And this baby was a royal princess; surely the gifts would be extra special! At least this was Queen Blanche’s secret hope. When the first of the fairies, a dapper gentleman in a gray silk suit reached the bassinet, she smiled at him especially. He smiled back and bent to peer at the princess. In a clear tenor he announced, “ I will grant Princess Rosebud a nice complexion.” The Queen felt the slight tingle and heard the ringing undertones that heralded a magic working but she blurted out “Nice? Just nice?” The fairy wasn’t offended. “Certainly. You don’t want her to be odd, do you?”
The Queen grew more distraught as the fairies proceeded, one by one, to give her daughter – the princess! – ordinary gifts: a beaming, bunchy-cheeked, matronly-looking woman in rose chiffon gave her the ability to be quick with sums, a youngish-looking lad granted her a good digestive system, and a very done up young lady gave her a good sense of humor, saying, in a joking sort of way, that with a name like Rosebud, she’d certainly need it. The Queen hardly had time to be annoyed about this before a hiccoughing fairy gave her good balance, another 20-20 eyesight, yet another strong nails, and an elderly looking gentleman, evidently thinking he was being funny, granted the princess the ability to chew gum and walk at the same time. This drew a polite laugh from the other fairies and a barely suppressed screech of outrage from the Queen. As if a royal princess would ever be so vulgar as to chew gum! The King was looking on, amused, and failed to see Blanche’s indignation.
A crinkle-eyed woman granted the princess healthy lungs, missing the Queen’s wince at the thought of what healthy lungs would mean with a potentially fussy baby. A fairish fellow with a buttercup yellow cravat gave Princess Rosebud natural-looking ringlets that would last the day whenever she curled her hair. A man with a slight potbelly and a receding hairline let loose with a hearty laugh as the princess blurbled up at him and granted her minty-smelling breath.
[Cont'd...]
In addition, the twelve finely dressed (though, one must admit, oddly-mannered) people at the end of the line were fairies and it was traditional for such invitees to give special gifts to babies at naming days. And this baby was a royal princess; surely the gifts would be extra special! At least this was Queen Blanche’s secret hope. When the first of the fairies, a dapper gentleman in a gray silk suit reached the bassinet, she smiled at him especially. He smiled back and bent to peer at the princess. In a clear tenor he announced, “ I will grant Princess Rosebud a nice complexion.” The Queen felt the slight tingle and heard the ringing undertones that heralded a magic working but she blurted out “Nice? Just nice?” The fairy wasn’t offended. “Certainly. You don’t want her to be odd, do you?”
The Queen grew more distraught as the fairies proceeded, one by one, to give her daughter – the princess! – ordinary gifts: a beaming, bunchy-cheeked, matronly-looking woman in rose chiffon gave her the ability to be quick with sums, a youngish-looking lad granted her a good digestive system, and a very done up young lady gave her a good sense of humor, saying, in a joking sort of way, that with a name like Rosebud, she’d certainly need it. The Queen hardly had time to be annoyed about this before a hiccoughing fairy gave her good balance, another 20-20 eyesight, yet another strong nails, and an elderly looking gentleman, evidently thinking he was being funny, granted the princess the ability to chew gum and walk at the same time. This drew a polite laugh from the other fairies and a barely suppressed screech of outrage from the Queen. As if a royal princess would ever be so vulgar as to chew gum! The King was looking on, amused, and failed to see Blanche’s indignation.
A crinkle-eyed woman granted the princess healthy lungs, missing the Queen’s wince at the thought of what healthy lungs would mean with a potentially fussy baby. A fairish fellow with a buttercup yellow cravat gave Princess Rosebud natural-looking ringlets that would last the day whenever she curled her hair. A man with a slight potbelly and a receding hairline let loose with a hearty laugh as the princess blurbled up at him and granted her minty-smelling breath.
[Cont'd...]
Labels: "Sleepless Beauty", stories
posted by Vicious B at 9:28 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home