Some Day My Prince Will Come    by Susan Scott                 Mar 2003

	Princess Mirabella sat in the lone window of her tall, ivy-covered tower at 
the edge of a primeval forest and felt sadder than sad. Desolate even. She could 
hear the clip clop of horses’ hooves as knights of what she figured were every shape and 
size passed by, but none came near enough to see her or hear her feminine bellows.
   Mirabella chewed on a strand of her floor-length chestnut hair, then put it over her lip and 
pretended it was a moustache to pass the time away while she waited for her prince. "Some day he’ll 
come," she sighed and turned to stare at her reflection in the mirror with mooney cow eyes, "Some day 
I’ll find a cool dude to hang with."
	Meanwhile handsome Prince Harvey Charming zipped across fields and in and out of trees in his new 
red convertible Ferrari that he’d traded his trusty white steed in for at the ‘Ye Olde Car Shoppe’ that morning.
Gavin was a great horse, Harvey thought, fighting a pang of guilt, but a car like this is a babe magnet.
   The wind whistled through the slit in his helmet, then whirled around his head, sounding like hurricane force 
gales. If he hadn’t had to break for a twelve point stag he might never have heard the delicate and far-away plea for help. 
"All right! A chick in trouble!" Harvey smiled and floored it.
   "Yo! Over here!" Princess Mirabella yodeled and waved her veiled hat frantically, "Hey! I need some help, darn it!"
       Prince Harvey cranked up the volume on his ‘Bee Gees Live at Sherwood Forest’ CD and did a cruise-by while he 
drummed out-of-sync time on the steering wheel. He checked the babe out and thought, "Not bad. Shame she isn’t a blonde, 
but I dig that low-cut bodice."
	He parked to one side of the isolated tower and hopped over the door, a cool move he’d seen on TV. He didn’t 
account for the full suit of armor though, and it tripped him up. He crashed to the ground with a tremendous "CLANG, 
WHANG, WHOMP." 
	Princess Mirabella gasped with alarm and leaned precariously from her high-up window ledge. When the pile of 
scrap metal showed signs of life, she slumped back and rolled her eyes, "Oh boy, we’ve got a winner here."
	Prince Harvey grabbed onto the car door and hauled himself upright, then pounded out a few dents in his suit. As he 
turned the bulky helmet right way ‘round, he sent up a brief ‘thanks’ to the goddess of fashion for her creation of a device 
which, although not allowing him to breathe properly and cutting off all peripheral vision, sure hid the occasional red face.
   He chose a perfectly formed crimson rose with droplets of morning dew still sprinkled on its petals from the fully-stocked 
vase in the car, clanked to the ivy-covered tower and stood beneath the window. With a flourish the prince brought the rose 
to his nose and inhaled deeply. An immediate sneezing fit sent him back to the Ferrari as fast as his cumbersome outfit would 
allow. After a couple lungfuls of bronchial inhaler, he plucked up his courage and set off to try again.
   He held the crushed, droopy, almost-petalless rose up to the princess, who had watched his antics with some great 
amusement, clapped the other hand over his heart and cleared his throat.
	"Will minest lady accept a token of minest esteem? Alas, it is a mere flower whicheth her beauty puts to shame," 
Harvey emoted in his best stage voice, "Forsooth! Lay thoust burdens upon minest sturdy shoulders, minest fairest maiden. 
Fret no more, Charming is here to assist thee!"
	Princess Mirabella took the last bite of a juicy red apple and tossed the core out of the window, bouncing it off Harvey’s 
helmet. She chewed slowly as he waited, a hopeful look in his deep blue eyes. She checked out the Ferrari and mentally 
estimated the prince's total net worth, then swallowed and said, "For one, knock off the idiot talk. For the other, my problem 
is..."
	The prince brightened and rubbed his kid leather driving gloved hands together, "Ah, I get it! You’ve been put under an 
evil spell, of which only your true love can rescue you. And I am he! And I must kiss you many times!"
	Mirabella leaned over and displayed a generous amount of cleavage, "No, I..."
	"I know! An evil dwarf stuck you up there until you figure out his name. Am I right?" Harvey watched the bodice slip 
lower with great hope.
	The princess licked her lips and wound a strand of hair around her slender finger, "No, it’s..."
	"A wicked stepmother? A pixie trick? Dragons?" The prince asked impatiently, "Look, you have to help me out here. 
This armor ain’t made of feathers and it’s gotta be ninety degrees today."
	Mirabella stamped her slippered foot and huffed, "If you’d SHUT UP, I might be able to tell you."
	She crossed her arms and sulked, and the prince stomped around the tower’s base, muttering.
   Finally he gave in, "Okay, okay. I apologize for living- all right? Now tell me what’s wrong."
	"Nothing." She casually examined her manicure and picked a bit of lint off her emerald velvet skirt.
	"Well you didn’t flag me down for ‘nothing,’ did you?"
	Mirabella watched a cloud float across the sky and drummed her fingers on the stone window ledge, "No, but it 
doesn’t matter now. I’ll get someone else to help."
	"Curse me for a dirty codpiece," Harvey yanked his helmet off and threw it on the ground then kicked it. He clutched 
his broken toes, hopped up and down and snarled, "Just tell me, will you? It’s my royal job to help damsels in distress, but 
nowhere in the description does it state that I have to take any crap from them. Know what I mean?"
	"Go on then," Mirabella flicked her hands at him in a shooing motion as a lone tear rolled down her soft, pink cheek.
	"Oh, here it comes. The ‘I’ll cry and get my way while making you feel like a jerk’ bit. It’s not gonna work missy, I’m 
outta here." He combed golden curly locks away from his sweaty face as he turned and limped towards the Ferrari.
   With that the princess began to bawl, "N-n-nobody ever w-w-wants to help me."
	Prince Harvey watched her face get blotchy and her green eyes puff up, and sighed, "Calm down. Tell me what’s 
wrong and I’ll fix it. Simple, right?"
	Mirabella snuffled a bit and looked down at him with a pathetic, tear-stained face.
	"Come on," he urged, "Tell me."
	She dabbed at her eyes with a wisp of lacey handkerchief and said, "I dropped my comb. It’s in the grass, right near 
your feet."
	"You dropped your comb? DROPPED YOUR COMB?" Harvey stared up at her open-mouthed, then pressed his 
hands against his temples, "Yaaah, my head is going to EXPLODE!"
	He scooped up his helmet and tossed it in the Ferrari’s back seat, then slid behind the wheel and floored the gas, 
burning sod as he peeled away without a backward glance.
	Two miles later Prince Harvey screeched to a stop beside a hitchhiking blonde maiden in a mini-tunic and fishnet 
stockings. His heart skipped a beat as he grabbed a rose from the vase and opened the car door. He didn’t plan to try the 
jump maneuver again until he’d changed into summer-weight clothing.
   "I am your servant, mistress," He bowed low and presented her with the flower.
   She giggled and held it to her nose, and peeked coyly up at Harvey through her long, dark lashes. He opened the 
passenger door, settled her into the seat and managed to give her derriere a little pinch in the process. Then he got behind 
the wheel, kissed the maiden’s cheek, and zoomed off into the sunset. 

HERE THE STORY ENDETH!

©2003, Susan Scott
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