Jocelyn had never expected to fall in love, certainly not with Prince Caspian of Narnia.
Even more than that, she hadn't expected him to fall in love with her. She was just so curly headed and Catholic and she never shaved her legs and she had bad taste in music, and nobody was even sure if she was a Daughter of Eve or a Son a Adam.
However, for no reason whatsoever, Caspian and her fell in love and began the greatest love affair of all time.
'So, I've finally found you…" he murmured, looking at the view of the pristine sunset from the balcony of their expensive Narnian villa.
"Who put those stars in your eyes?" she replied.
"If you stood in front of a mirror and held up eleven roses, you would see twelve of the most beautiful things in the world." he said, entranced by her curly headed loveliness.
"Last night," he added, "I looked up into the stars and matched each one with a reason I loved you. Then I ran out of stars."
Suddenly, Rafael Nadal appeared.
"Garble dfghjkleacfhufbvcu ioadf ickle snicjk ing jebb gloy!" he said angrily.
"Excuse me?" Caspian said. "I didn't quite understand you."
"Garble dfghjkleacfhufbvcu ioadf ickle snicjk ing jebb gloy." Nadal replied, wielding a tennis racket, that was covered in flames that burned as brightly as his passion for Jocelyn.
"Oh, Rafa! You came through the wardrobe for me!" She sighed like a weak little schoolgirl sighs at her Justin Beiber poster.
"You know what he said?"
"Of course." Jocelyn replied. "I'm fluent in Idiot."
"Ickle van snale spanell shacka macka ick gleeb." Nadal said, and ran his sweaty tennis hands through her hair in a seductive manner.
Jocelyn giggled like a moron.
"I'm sorry, Caspian. It's him. It's always been him."
Suddenly Caspian did a back flip and transformed into a poorly animated wolf.
Nadal snarled and raised his racket of terror.
Jocelyn stepped between them.
"Stop! You two can't hurt each other without hurting me!"
"Glabba span chisifarnall?" Nadal asked.
"Yes, Rafa, we can play tennis tomorrow." she said, as the sad Caspian wolf went off in the woods to play with the Pevensie children.
"Not so fast!" They heard a voice yell.
Heroic music played, seemingly from nowhere, and in swaggered Captain Jack Sparrow.
"Get your Spaniard fingers off o' my filthy curly wench, savvy?" he slurred.
"Tella mella yanna farb." Nadal replied, and prepared to kill Jack.
"Don't kill him!" someone exclaimed in a kingly manner, and walked onto the scene.
It was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, coolest and best looking fictional character in the history of the world.
"Now, Jocelyn, we all know you're…well, to put it bluntly, you're a filthy hooker. Hasn't there been enough trouble on your account?"
"Well, I suppose so.""Exactly! You know what your problem is? You should be more like your friend Kalyn. She is simply perfect in everyway."
"Shalla per kittle oikinblorf?" Nadal asked.
"How do I know, my dear Spaniard? Because she is my bride."
He patted Nadal on the head.
"Be careful when eating bananas. We both know you're not nearly coordinated enough to try and eat by yourself."
And thus the story ended. The end!
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