Dearest Royal Diary:
I feel I’m at the end of my journey. There are only several fair damsels left to grace with my presence. It’s been the most arduous task I’ve ever performed. I’ve never really been into feet, and dear Lord Bunion, have I seen way too many. It astounds me a face can be an image of rare beauty graced by god, but the feet can be cloven hoofs cursed by Satan himself.
This trip of many feet and even more miles began when my parents decided I should find a maiden and make her my princess. My royal mommy said she was tired of seeing me stare at myself in the mirror for hours. I agreed, she’s very astute. I did need a princess to stare at me in the mirror too. Perfection should never be wasted on one pair of mesmerizing blue eyes.
Daddy and Mommy, King and Queen of the Kingdom, planned a historic ball and invited all the fairest maidens in the land. They advised me to find a suitable bride with fair skin and no recognizable ethnicity. She must be polished and not related to anyone in the horrible House of Hilton or the equally trashy Kourt of the Kardashians. I fretted over finding someone as glorious as myself.
The event was announced as a royal proclamation to all the elite and pamphlets were flung from a trash cart to the peasants. Of course, the lowly were not invited, but they could drool over the moat to view the royal red carpet.
Horatio the Hornblower and his Orchestra agreed to perform. The night would be like speed dating with violins and passed hors d’oeuvres. The palace was specially decorated by Sir Nathan Du Berkus and giant amounts of food were delivered from the halls of Costco. King Daddy’s indentured chef Herr Wolfgang Puckermann prepared a fabulous feast including a chopped liver swan sculpture for Viscount Rosenblatt.
The night of the ball I couldn’t take my eyes off the stairway where the guests made their entry. The bannisters of gold were polished to a gleam and I could see myself striking a pose in my finest silk brocade. My nerves were on edge. I was concerned all the fair damsels would swoon upon seeing me in person.
A hush fell over the grand hall as we waited for the first guests to arrive. You could hear a pin drop throughout the palace, because Daddy had convinced Mommy to shut down the torture chamber in celebration of the special night. When we heard the valets take the reins of the first carriage, Lady Adele began crooning “Hello” accompanied by Horatio and his Musical Knights.
Maidens streamed in like a tapestry of preening birds accompanied by their doting parents. They hobbled, wobbled and pranced down the stairway to curtsy at my feet. The faces that gazed up at me were mostly ordinary, some less than ordinary and some should have been covered in veils. They were bejeweled and misted in exotic fragrances – I smelled jasmine, lavender, sandalwood, patchouli, garlic, moth balls and French fries.
Every young lady held out her hand for a slight kiss from me– the eligible Prince. I was glad the Royal Chemist had given me anti-bacterial chap stick. I had no idea where all those hands had been. Champagne flowed, food was devoured, and Lady Adele was into her second set when the Queen insisted I begin to dance with the all the damsels lined up at the Buy a Ticket to Dance with the Prince booth. I noticed there were also several young, dashing lords in the queue. I smiled and nodded to Sir Du Berkus to wait for his turn.
My shins were kicked, my toes crushed and my fingers twisted, as I attempted to dance with this flock of dance school dunces. Only the lords knew how to leap, and my mind wandered to a tale of two princes. Suddenly, the music halted and all eyes were drawn to the top of the grand staircase.
There stood the most beautiful young maiden I had ever seen. There were gasps in the crowd and someone choked up a turkey bone. She was a vision in yards of blue fabric. Her dress was a bit over the top, but it couldn’t distract from her goddess face. A female version of me.
She made her way gracefully down the marble staircase. Her shoes made a disturbing sound like nails drawn across a slate. Mommy’s Shih Tzu howled and the Duke of Hazzard’s hearing trumpet exploded. I was so entranced, her clinks as she approached me were like avant-garde music.
I kissed her hand and swept her into my arms. We waltzed across the room. Her tremendous gown spun around the room clearing off tables and knocking over onlookers, but I was enthralled with my image in her lovely eyes. She smelled of cinnamon, but I discerned an underlying aroma of smoke and ashes. I wondered if she purchased her gown at a fire sale.
Her dress with all its uncommon beauty was lightly stained by pumpkin seeds and there were several stuck in her long golden hair extensions. I smiled for I knew this angel on earth must have been flinging pumpkins at the peasants on her way to the ball. What a charitable gesture to throw food at the poor.
I flung her onto the veranda where we could catch our breath in the cool evening air. She was shy as I tried to grab for her waist amongst all that fabric. She giggled and said it was an honor to meet me. That is true of course, but I wanted to know about this enchanting lady.
She spoke very little. I asked her name and she was hesitant to answer. Finally, she told me it was Lady Antebellum. Somehow, I didn’t feel convinced. She waved to several strange footmen who appeared to be hording cheese from the buffet.
Just as I was about to ask her if she wanted to see my royal closet, the clock chimed midnight. This beautiful stranger fled the room as if struck with Irritable Bowel Syndrome. She ran for the exit clacking up the stairway and into the night.
I took chase but only found a curious glass slipper stuck in the door mat. What type of lady wore such delicate glass shoes? Where did she find such unusual footwear? I needed to find this beauty, return the special shoe and ask her where she shopped.
At last, I’m near the end of my search. I’ve seen blisters, hammer toes, corns and growths I can’t even describe. Not one of these ghastly flippers has fit the shoe. My valet has gone through several cases of Windex. It’s hard to keep a glass slipper clean.
I am hopeful for I saw a Lady Antebellum concert poster tacked to an oak tree. Mommy and Daddy will be upset I have intensions for a damsel of the stage. There’s no doubt she’ll will give up her profession for me. As I continue, my horse grows weary and my valet has asked for a comp day.
I just need a brief recess. Sir Elton John has invited me on his frigate as he sets sail for the Island of Fire. He advises me there are many queens there and balls are held every night.
I await the journey with great anticipation.
Until my next entry.
A Fond Adieu……… Prince C.