Now here’s something for everyone who’s always been suspicious about the happy endings that old-fashioned and modern fairytales have to offer. What is that ‚happily ever after‘-thing anyway? A fairy-tale satire:
And the prince saved the princess from the clutches of the evil dragon and took her home.
“Now I’m going to take care of you,” he said.
“Nothing will ever part us,” she sighed.
They kissed. Living happily ever after…
Ever after, a shiny palace, two big sized carriages in the yard. The princess on Prozac, stays at home, waiting for him to return from his overtime work at his hero company (ltd.). Watching kitten videos most of the time.
The prince got fat with too much cake and too much using the carriage instead of his feet. Still bringing all the treasures home.
Whenever I visit the princess she talks about the hard life she has and how make-up tutorials changed her life. She hands me a strong coffee and a cupcake, showing me holiday pictures on her tablet.
“I’ll load this one up on Instagram,” she says. “I look marvellous in this bikini. Just have to photoshop his belly a bit…”
“Why don’t you just cut him out?”
“But that would be a princess without her prince! What would the press make out of that?”
A dwarf comes in picking up a shopping list. The loyal servant ready for service. He’ll surely bring some extra flowers.
“What would I do without him?!” the princess says.
‘Doing your shopping yourself?’ I think. “So you are happy… with your life?” is what I say instead.
“Of course, of course. And soon we’ll find some treatment for his erectile dysfunction.”
Some hours elapse faster than others. I finish my coffee and half of the cupcake.
“Got a date to attend to,” I lie. Jealous eyes follow me to the door as I leave the palace.
I wonder if she believes in fate. The promise of a good life that has to be kept? A cliché with all its consequences?
She didn’t choose to be the princess. But did she ever consider becoming something else?
Outside the palace, I meet the dwarf.
“Need a ride to town?” he asks politely.
We pass the royal lands, merging into the noisy scene of the city. Not a fairy place, that’s for sure. But no candy floss country, either.
“You never get tired of coming here to collect her stuff, do you?” I say.
“It’s no place for a princess,” he answers.
“And if she wasn’t?”
“Then I’d take her home,” he smiles and I grin.
Ever heard of the dwarf getting the princess in the end? Guess, she’d enjoy his home cooking. And going on shopping tours with him. He even likes the same kind of music. Well, princess, how about a nice, honest dwarf-fuck?
Later on, in a gloomy bar, I find the dragon. Each time I see him he appears a little whiter. Even dragons age. Becoming tamer and nostalgic.
He waves his head as some seventies blues floats across the speakers. I get two Bloody Marys and move beside him.
“To the good old times!”
“Yes, cheers!” he nods, appreciating my invitation.
But have the old times really been so good? Being defeated more than once, because the hero always wins and the villain always loses? Respected and feared? The all-time monster?
“How would you like it, if a princess decided not to go with the prince after all and to stay with you instead?” I want to know.
“Nah…,” he shakes his head, “princesses are an awful company. Most of them are prudish and bother me the whole day for not having cable tv.”
“Maybe you should broaden your range.”
He just shrugs, giving me a smile.
Three more Bloody Marys and we end up in his apartment. He puts on a record and shares his smoke with me.
I look in his blue dragon eyes…
“Care for a ride?” he whispers. Sure I do.
The next day I leave early before breakfast. Still, I find a postcard in my pocket saying “THX for the night, your highness. Repeat it someday? xxx”. No name, no signature. When I return to the princess I secretly put the postcard in the royal mailbox.
Two weeks later, first-page news: the princess ran off with the dwarf. If she made up her mind over the princes’ overtime work and dysfunction issues? Maybe she failed to photoshop him after all.
The prince is still fat. Staying back at the palace angry and confused. Cursing the dwarf and the postcard. Swearing to take care of the princess.
Well. Guess, that’s how I become the evil witch ever after.
C. Holister (c) 2017