Forewords:
Before you begin (and I'd like to thank you right here for actually taking the time to do so!) please note that the comment I make of the queen of England I know is false, and that I was just shooting a bit of fun at her. I would have said the Prime Minister of Canada, but I don't think many people really know what he looks like, so my joke would have been spoiled. Again, I don't mean it! Hey, remember? I'm Canadian! Her face is on all our coins! How can I not love her?
A stray strand of brown hair fell over his dark eyes, and he brushed it away impatiently. Hair gel was just not what it used to be. He sighed and tapped his carefully filed nails on the armrest of his unnecessarily large throne. His secretary, with whom he had slept with at least six times (well, that last time hadn't really counted, because she'd seen his face without makeup half-way through and ran away) frowned in disapproval when she realized he wasn't listening.
"Prince Charming, trading is an important part of a nation's upkeep. You need to listen to be able to govern your country well."
Prince Charming leaned over in his seat to glare at her. "Do you actually think I rule the nation, you blonde? With my good looks? All I do is sign papers (Oh-my-god-by-the-way-I-read-in-Cosmo-that-writing-can-wrinkle-your-hands-ew!) and look pretty for paparazzi. I'm like the Queen of England, only substitute pretty with disturbingly (If you haven't read the Forewords yet, do so now) cowish. Just skip to the good stuff, will you? I don't have all day. I have a photo shoot at 11, and Doris promised me a perm if I gave her that fabulous nail polish hue I bought at La Sensa last week. Can you believe it?"
The secretary scowled her worst scowl. She could be such a bitch, sometimes. And her make-up so did not go with her hair colour. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she had the chance, the big main doors burst open, admitting a short, balding, middle-aged man. Prince Charming stared. When on earth had he hired that? He looked like Danny Devito! He shuddered visibly.
"Sire!" the midget man yelped, running up to the foot of the dais. Prince Charming almost fainted. He dared come so near to him? If he breathed that air, he could start losing hair! He frantically ran a hand through his hair and stared at his fingertips. Thank Britney Spears. No hair.
"Sire!" the short guy fairly screeched. "Have you been listening to a word I said?!"
Prince Charming blinked. "Well, who would want to? Honestly, man, you need to take voice lessons. Mastering the deepness of a voice is an art, you know."
The little man waved that away impatiently. "Your highness, there are four ladies outside the castle gates. They all want to speak with you immediately. They said to tell you that you're a These words have been erased due to their vulgarity, you little bitches, so screw the hell off."
Prince Charming jumped from his throne, gaping openly. Four women angry with him? That hadn't happened since he'd tried sleeping with this girl, her mother and her sister all at the same time without them noticing. ...Or was that three? He sat back in his chair, looking quite puzzled.
"Your majesty!" cried the bald kid, looking extremely exasperated now. "What do you plan on doing about these ladies?"
"Bring them in," our hero sighed resignedly. The last time he'd tried to ignore a gaggle of angry fans, they'd somehow broken into the castle, raided his underwear drawer, and taken off with his best Fruit of the Loom. His used Fruit of the Loom.
The doors burst open anew, revealing four different girls. They marched up to the dais side by side, looking furious. At the same time, they opened their mouths, ready to speak, but he held up a hand. "Hold on. Before you start, you need a few beauty pointers. He pointed to the first girl. "You, your hair is way too long. It's called the hairdresser's." The next one. "You're disgusting! Take a bath you sick piece of nastiness!" The next. "And YOU! Buy some BLUSH, girl! Your skin is paler then paper. And black hair is so out. Well, actually, gossip reports say that 13% more girls are dying their hair black, and their clo... but it doesn't matter, because black hair still isn't all in yet, so... EW, and your lipstick is too red. God, who does your makeup? You too," he scowled, pointing to the last one.
He sighed with contentment. That had been quite refreshing. "Okay, that was fun. Send in some more crimes of fashion, please."
In unison, all four girls put their fists on their hips and gave him equally furious glares. Prince Charming gaped in horrified astonishment. What was wrong with them? Women fainted when they saw him. They didn't screw their faces up to look like turkeys like this! They must be robots, he reasoned. But no! Even robots were turned on sometimes. He frantically seized his miniature hand-mirror-on-the-wall.
"Mirror, mirror in my hand, who's the hot-" he faltered as the tiny face in the mirror shook its head. "Oh, come on," he hissed, so that the women wouldn't hear. "Don't make me do that wigger thing. Not here." The face pouted stubbornly, and Prince Charming knew it was no use. "Alright. Yo, homie. Wassup in da frame?" he asked.
"It's coo, dawg," the mirror replied. "My G's have been sorta wack, though. Get what I'm sayin'?" Prince Charming rolled his eyes. He had known shopping at a thrift store was a bad idea.
"A'ight, man. Now tell me who's the damn finest in this land."
"Sorry, PC," the face said. "Dude, you may be damn fine, but Seth Green has more hunnies in his hood."
"What?!" squeaked Prince Charming, all voice-deepening techniques forgotten. "Naw, dawg. You playin'. Seth Green can't be hotter then me!"
"Damn, G, I meant someone pulled a prank on him, dude. They put honey in his hood, and now he can't take it off."
Prince Charming heaved a sigh of relief. For a moment there, he had been scared half to death. That had happened once before, last year, when-. Hold on. If he'd been scared half to death twice, wouldn't he be d e a d .... He leaned back in his chair, brow knitted in bewilderment, and slowly began to work it out. He did not have long, though, for the mirror caught his attention again.
"Home slice, if you ain't down wit hearing who's the damn finest in the land, you had best quit hasslin' a brother, yo?" said the face in the mirror impatiently. This brought Prince Charming back to his senses, and he learned, to his utter delight, that he was still the sexiest man on earth, and, with a final "Word to your mother", the head vanished in a puff of smoke.
Our handsome prince returned his concentration, or perhaps his lack of it, back to the matter at hand: these four hunnies... erm... I mean, women, with terrible fashion who seemed quite pissed with him. "So, ladies. How can I help you?"
The bald butler cleared his throat importantly. "May I present the Ladies Rapunzel, Cinderella, Snow White and Sleeping Beauty."
For a moment, Prince Charming simply gaped at the four women. Then, he was out of his chair and through a side door, dashing through the hallways and looking for something, anything, to hit himself over the head with. When four of your girlfriends showed up in the same place, you had only one choice. Either knock yourself out, or become so wasted that the servants had to place you in a cupboard until the giggling stopped. Or was that two choices?