“Let me get a few things straight. First of all, we’ve hung out a grand total of three days, but you already think you love me and want to marry me. Look, I don’t know how things work outside the Tower, but that seems wrong to me. I can’t even know for sure if you’re really a prince or just some nutcase with a hair fetish!”
“Well I -”
“Don’t interrupt me. Second issue, you want me to just up and leave my home, my witch, and all my stuff, to come live with you in a place I’ve never seen, with people I’ve never met, with the expectation that I’d pay for my new lifestyle with favors of a sexual nature. Correct?”
“Sorta, but-um, will you please stop looking at me like that?”
“…Can’t. Too busy wondering where you hid such idiocy over the past couple of days. Probably in those puffy sleeves, I’d bet. They look spacious enough.”
“…I should go now, shouldn’t I.”
“That would be best.”
“Bye….Now, do I cut my hair when he’s out of sight, or dare I do it while he’s still climbing down?”
I’ve been reading Orphan’s Tales by Cat Valente this past week, so I’ve got wonderful myths and fairytales bouncing around in my head like bubble tea. Compound that with a recent discussion with Anna and other girl-like friends about Tangled and the couple of spots where we all went ‘seriously?’ and you get this. At least, I’m blaming the above on these people. I might work on this later and turn it into an actual short story instead of…whatever this is.
The Disapproving Quail is telling me to get my butt in bed. Farewell, internet.