24 May, 2007

Little piggy drafts a note


Kære Mor,

Or are you going to force anglicisation on me and make me call you mummy? Well, you certainly look and act like one often enough, although I think embalming fluids would smell better than some of the crap you put on your face. Mushed up lamb foetuses? Uh, could one be a tad more insensitive? I was just recently "promoted" from being a foetus - if you can call this a promotion. Jeez. What's up with all the beige? Beige walls, beige faces, beige cardis. Would a little colour just be too much, or is this part of your plan for bringing Far back down to his adolescent depths again? Because it's working a little too well on this creature you insist is my brother. Sweet Jesus with anger-management issues! Couldja maybe stop Christian from threatening to kill me? He only does it when you aren't here. Cuz he goes away whenever he sees you. And toward me when you're out of the room. He gives me the spooks, like I'm going to end up chopped up in the freezer one day. What have you done to him? And I take it he hasn't even been around for very long, which scares me for what I'm in store to experience.

But let's deal with what you can handle first: can you get your body double out of my sight? She stinks of gin. I know Far can't tell the diff, but I can. It's subtle - she has a whiff of gumleaves and pharmaceuticals. Different pharmaceuticals from Far but, still, not so flattering on a tranny type. If he sobered up he'd notice. What's the plan, Stan? Send her out to launch things on your behalf or something? Hey! I'm half Danish, you know. You think the slow Danes won't figure? We're smarter than you think, we just have a huuuuuuuuuuuuge tolerance for all royal bêtises. We'll come around, eventually.

And what's with the plotting? I can hear, y'know. You guys hover over my cradle and it's like being on the set of Macbeth. Who's this Rob-Roy Woadbod you have on the phone so much of the time? Is he the nice Jewish man who injected me with all sorts of counter-bogan gene-ery? And what's a corporate takeover and restructure of Denmark? What are you talking about? Is my darling Daisy in on this? And Grampa Jock - mathematician indeed! He's spent HOURS on end rocking me while attempting to slip subliminals into my head. Things like "Grandpappy needs an apartment pretty badly, lass, a nice roomy one".

May I remind you, mother, that I am in fact half royal, and you're a commoner. Or you'll be back to being a commoner asap. That's what Far reckons, when you're out of the room. You really should spend less time in the gym and more time with Far and me. You might learn what's going on in his head. OK, not much, I grant you. But what makes it through the fog ain't happy with you. You should hear old Farmor Daisy. Far seems to curry favour with her, don't know why. Though he yelled at her the other day for giving you a Coat of Arms. What's that? Like a wrap with lots of sleeves or something? Gosh, I have a lot to learn.

Far says that first he has to wrest a whole lot of jewels back from you before you get sent back to Boganville. Shall I tell you? Oh, OK, you can't do anything about it, anyway. They're substituting paste for the jewels. Ha! My beloved Farmor Daisy reckons you wouldn't know the difference. Ha ha!

Lastly Mor, why did you tack my favourite name at the back of the list? I'd like a re-write, if you don't mind. Alerka is an awful name, and is just too closely associated with the bogan cousins. And the fashion names? Tiffany Kylie Marni Cartier is just so nouveau-grostesque. I've got defensive class sensors that you don't, mama, being half-royal and not needing to compete with Far's family. Your sensors are offensive - pronounce that either way you like, babes. Course, soon as I grow up I'm going to rename myself Victoria. Far says I can. He gets so bleary-eyed about it and says the name is so beautifully evocative. Strokes my tiny bum when he says it, too.

By the by, soon as you're off the agenda I'm going to forget English and take up my ancestral language. Your English is embarrassingly posh and bizarrely twisted. I only know one or two words, and they're both from Far. They sound like brand names. What's Acapulco Gold? Is that tobacco, drugs or alcohol? Or the pet name for my future step-mor?

Gud bevare!
Prada Alerka Amber Mary Margrethe, aka Mini-ME, soon to be Lille Prinsesse Victoria

8 Comments:

Blogger Hester said...

This contribution came from our dear friend P over yonder on the companion board....

May 25, 2007 9:52 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Brilliant P!!!!
Amber, Alerka, Cartier, ME ...soon to be Princess Victoria.

Amber/Alerka
Borganella
Cartier,
Dayzee,
Elizabeth

ABCD...!

May 25, 2007 10:13 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

FABULOUS! Perfect Piglet! Victoria Regnat Forever!
Diog

May 25, 2007 11:52 am  
Anonymous Cece said...

Way to go, P!! If Amber never writes the book, we can surely count on Les Memoirs de la Petite Cochonne one day! It may be worth the wait!

May 26, 2007 3:16 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

... perhaps along the lines of Mommie Dearest ... ?!!?!?!?
Diog

May 26, 2007 8:33 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Whoa! Whose man-hands are those wrapped around the piglet? I see Fred's sleeve in the background, so they must be Mosh's. No wonder she's used to getting what she wants, she just goes and grabs it with those clamps - who would dare protest under threat of being man-handled by them!?

May 30, 2007 2:28 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

mm i think its great the cussing is kept low and the funny high! ingrid victoria margethe henrietta
the commoner always goes last!

May 31, 2007 6:13 am  
Anonymous Thrilla said...

Hi Hes and Cece. Hope you are checking back. Royal Dish seems to be sabotaged. Do you have any idea where the website it that gives status of RD when it's down?

Love,
Thrilla

November 02, 2009 5:37 am  

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