Disclaimer: lalala I don't own any of the characters!!! Lala!
A/N: If you didn't figure it out by the way the first chapter is written... this isn't meant to be taken seriously by me. (as it said in the summary if you read that.) If you see an update (with the exception of this chapter) in this story... it is because I was working on R/J Fiasco, and got stuck. That's all this story is for me, a goofy way to get around writer's block.
I'll edit it, I'll proof-read it, but not as thoroughly as I try for R/J and one-shots...
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"You're at a hospital in Genovia, Mia. Don't you remember anything?" he asked worriedly.
"Genovia? Where's Genovia?"
Michael stared at her. "Mia, you're kidding right?" he asked, unwilling to believe her.
"No, really, where's Genovia?"
Prince Phillippe charged into the room that minute, a crazed look on his face, recent botax injections-gone-wrong really didn't help his appearance. He relaxed when he saw Mia was conscious. (Well, relaxed as much as someone with a botax stricken face can.)
"I came as soon as I could," he said. "There was flooding in Timtookmybucktoo, so there were no planes that were willing to try to take off, and no boats willing to risk the flood," he explained.
Mia looked at him blankly. Michael watched her expressions carefully, a clenching feeling came to his stomach. He really shouldn't have eaten those Spanish beans earlier.
"O-okay," she said slowly. "Um, thank you."
Phillippe smiled at her warmly, probably the first time he'd done that in Mia's life. Unfortunately, she didn't remember it that way. "Who are you?" were the next words that came out of her mouth.
He froze like a hotdog tossed into blizzard-y Antarctica weather, and than turned quickly to Michael. "How long has she been out of the coma?"
"She woke up, screaming a few minutes before you came," Michael said trying to remain calm.
"Mia," her father said slowly. "Why were you screaming?"
She looked nervously at the man looming over her. Glancing at Michael, she saw that he was twisting a piece of her bed sheet in his hand anxiously. She placed a hand over his, and smiled at him. He tried to smile back.
"Why were you screaming?" Phillippe asked again.
Mia didn't want to answer him, embarrassed about the possibility of relating her strange dream to this strange, strange balding man.
"Sir," Michael said respectfully. "She was probably traumatized by the accident and reliving it."
"I know that, boy!" he shouted at Michael. "I know that," Phillippe tried to say more calmly. "She doesn't even recognize me. But she recognizes you." He spat the old, tasteless winter fresh gum that was loitering in his mouth at Michael before leaving the room.
[a/n: I originally edited this out, and than decided, eh? Why not?]
Michael looked at the gum, tempted. He picked it off his sleeve and put it in his mouth. "Mmm," he said. "Beefy."
"Who was that?" Mia asked after Phillippe left slamming the door.
"That was your father..."
"That? That monster was my father?" Mia asked incredulously.
"Afraid so," Michael said, relaxed. If nothing else, at least his girlfriend's sense of humor was still intact. And even if she lost her memory about everything else, she seemed to at least remember him.
"Why am I in the hospital?" she asked, a little too cheerfully.
"You were in a boating accident with your grandmother, and Lars."
"Lars?" she asked. "But he's not real, he was in my dream."
"Your dream?" Michael inquired, hoping to pry a little information out of her.
"Yeah, and you were in it too. I was supposed to meet you in Central Park for a date, and this guy Lars came with me, its like he knew I would need protecting, or something. Anyway, you came up, and suddenly tried to eat my brains or something disgusting, and you convinced this guy, Lars, to help you. And so I screamed. That's when you woke me up." She left out the part where Lars called her Princess, that was just an embarrassing fantasy of hers, her boyfriend surely didn't need to know about that.
"Oh," Michael said thinking for a minute. "Lars is real, Mia."
"He is?"
"Yes, he's your bodyguard."
"My what?"
"Your bodygau-" Michael didn't finish. The doors to Mia's room came crashing open as her mother Helen, and her step dad came into the room.
"Mom! Dad!" she cried out happily. They stopped and a peculiar look came across their faces. It must have been due to the aroma that came wafting to their noses. Thank you, Michael, for cutting the cheese.
"Oh Mia, honey, Frank isn't your father. Phillippe is." Helen gave her daughter a hug. "And he took his sweet time before telling us that you were finally awake," she said a little harshly.
"Can't we just pretend that Frank is my father?" Mia asked hopefully.
Frank smiled at her gratefully, and squeezed her hand. "Sorry, Mia, but I don't think Phillippe would be so willing to give up his only heir."
"Oh, well, that's not a problem," Mia said brightly. "He doesn't have an hair anyway." [a/n couldn't resist....]
Helen smiled wanly. "No, Mia, you're his heir to the throne?"
"What throne? His waxed corvette? And don't tell me he doesn't have one, all men, that age, with that wanna-be-playboy look, have corvettes. They buy the corvettes as a way of subconsciously compensating for everything they don't have."
Michael rolled his eyes, this was a speech he'd heard often enough from Lilly.
"Um... He's the prince of Genovia." Michael said.
"He's a prince? No wonder he's got the whole power trip going on."
"Mia! He's your father!" Helen was getting frustrated, she had some perfectly good ice cream that was waiting for her in the cafeteria of the hospital. And because her daughter couldn't seem to get it through her dense head.... Well, even rocky road isn't as appealing when its melted and looking like mud.
"He's a prince, and his my father?"
"Yes," Frank said, a little disappointed they hadn't just gone along with Mia's plan. He didn't mind if she thought of him as her father. "And that makes you a princess."
"So I didn't just dream it? Awsome!"
This reaction surprised them. Something must've gone terribly wrong in the accident... the real Mia would have been upset, throwing one horrendous tantrum... something along those lines. The fact that she was pretty much a blank slate, because of memory loss probably helped the idea become much more acceptable. After all, it was a part of her past that she just had to relearn.
"So when do I get to go shopping?" she asked eagerly.
"What?"
"Well, I can't go out there looking like this," she said motioning to her hospital gown.
"Go where?"
"To rule my gigantic, wealthy, country!"
"Mia... you don't get to rule anything until both your grandmother and your father are dead," Frank said.
"Oh."
"Genovia's population is only about 80,000," Michael added.
"Oh."
"You can't go shopping," Helen finished.
"Well this just sucks." Mia crossed her arms and pouted.
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I hope you enjoyed the randomness of it all as much as I did, if you didn't... well, than stop reading the story because its not gonna change. ... well, not likely to change now. I might do a more serious version later, after R/J.
A/N: If you didn't figure it out by the way the first chapter is written... this isn't meant to be taken seriously by me. (as it said in the summary if you read that.) If you see an update (with the exception of this chapter) in this story... it is because I was working on R/J Fiasco, and got stuck. That's all this story is for me, a goofy way to get around writer's block.
I'll edit it, I'll proof-read it, but not as thoroughly as I try for R/J and one-shots...
==========================================
"You're at a hospital in Genovia, Mia. Don't you remember anything?" he asked worriedly.
"Genovia? Where's Genovia?"
Michael stared at her. "Mia, you're kidding right?" he asked, unwilling to believe her.
"No, really, where's Genovia?"
Prince Phillippe charged into the room that minute, a crazed look on his face, recent botax injections-gone-wrong really didn't help his appearance. He relaxed when he saw Mia was conscious. (Well, relaxed as much as someone with a botax stricken face can.)
"I came as soon as I could," he said. "There was flooding in Timtookmybucktoo, so there were no planes that were willing to try to take off, and no boats willing to risk the flood," he explained.
Mia looked at him blankly. Michael watched her expressions carefully, a clenching feeling came to his stomach. He really shouldn't have eaten those Spanish beans earlier.
"O-okay," she said slowly. "Um, thank you."
Phillippe smiled at her warmly, probably the first time he'd done that in Mia's life. Unfortunately, she didn't remember it that way. "Who are you?" were the next words that came out of her mouth.
He froze like a hotdog tossed into blizzard-y Antarctica weather, and than turned quickly to Michael. "How long has she been out of the coma?"
"She woke up, screaming a few minutes before you came," Michael said trying to remain calm.
"Mia," her father said slowly. "Why were you screaming?"
She looked nervously at the man looming over her. Glancing at Michael, she saw that he was twisting a piece of her bed sheet in his hand anxiously. She placed a hand over his, and smiled at him. He tried to smile back.
"Why were you screaming?" Phillippe asked again.
Mia didn't want to answer him, embarrassed about the possibility of relating her strange dream to this strange, strange balding man.
"Sir," Michael said respectfully. "She was probably traumatized by the accident and reliving it."
"I know that, boy!" he shouted at Michael. "I know that," Phillippe tried to say more calmly. "She doesn't even recognize me. But she recognizes you." He spat the old, tasteless winter fresh gum that was loitering in his mouth at Michael before leaving the room.
[a/n: I originally edited this out, and than decided, eh? Why not?]
Michael looked at the gum, tempted. He picked it off his sleeve and put it in his mouth. "Mmm," he said. "Beefy."
"Who was that?" Mia asked after Phillippe left slamming the door.
"That was your father..."
"That? That monster was my father?" Mia asked incredulously.
"Afraid so," Michael said, relaxed. If nothing else, at least his girlfriend's sense of humor was still intact. And even if she lost her memory about everything else, she seemed to at least remember him.
"Why am I in the hospital?" she asked, a little too cheerfully.
"You were in a boating accident with your grandmother, and Lars."
"Lars?" she asked. "But he's not real, he was in my dream."
"Your dream?" Michael inquired, hoping to pry a little information out of her.
"Yeah, and you were in it too. I was supposed to meet you in Central Park for a date, and this guy Lars came with me, its like he knew I would need protecting, or something. Anyway, you came up, and suddenly tried to eat my brains or something disgusting, and you convinced this guy, Lars, to help you. And so I screamed. That's when you woke me up." She left out the part where Lars called her Princess, that was just an embarrassing fantasy of hers, her boyfriend surely didn't need to know about that.
"Oh," Michael said thinking for a minute. "Lars is real, Mia."
"He is?"
"Yes, he's your bodyguard."
"My what?"
"Your bodygau-" Michael didn't finish. The doors to Mia's room came crashing open as her mother Helen, and her step dad came into the room.
"Mom! Dad!" she cried out happily. They stopped and a peculiar look came across their faces. It must have been due to the aroma that came wafting to their noses. Thank you, Michael, for cutting the cheese.
"Oh Mia, honey, Frank isn't your father. Phillippe is." Helen gave her daughter a hug. "And he took his sweet time before telling us that you were finally awake," she said a little harshly.
"Can't we just pretend that Frank is my father?" Mia asked hopefully.
Frank smiled at her gratefully, and squeezed her hand. "Sorry, Mia, but I don't think Phillippe would be so willing to give up his only heir."
"Oh, well, that's not a problem," Mia said brightly. "He doesn't have an hair anyway." [a/n couldn't resist....]
Helen smiled wanly. "No, Mia, you're his heir to the throne?"
"What throne? His waxed corvette? And don't tell me he doesn't have one, all men, that age, with that wanna-be-playboy look, have corvettes. They buy the corvettes as a way of subconsciously compensating for everything they don't have."
Michael rolled his eyes, this was a speech he'd heard often enough from Lilly.
"Um... He's the prince of Genovia." Michael said.
"He's a prince? No wonder he's got the whole power trip going on."
"Mia! He's your father!" Helen was getting frustrated, she had some perfectly good ice cream that was waiting for her in the cafeteria of the hospital. And because her daughter couldn't seem to get it through her dense head.... Well, even rocky road isn't as appealing when its melted and looking like mud.
"He's a prince, and his my father?"
"Yes," Frank said, a little disappointed they hadn't just gone along with Mia's plan. He didn't mind if she thought of him as her father. "And that makes you a princess."
"So I didn't just dream it? Awsome!"
This reaction surprised them. Something must've gone terribly wrong in the accident... the real Mia would have been upset, throwing one horrendous tantrum... something along those lines. The fact that she was pretty much a blank slate, because of memory loss probably helped the idea become much more acceptable. After all, it was a part of her past that she just had to relearn.
"So when do I get to go shopping?" she asked eagerly.
"What?"
"Well, I can't go out there looking like this," she said motioning to her hospital gown.
"Go where?"
"To rule my gigantic, wealthy, country!"
"Mia... you don't get to rule anything until both your grandmother and your father are dead," Frank said.
"Oh."
"Genovia's population is only about 80,000," Michael added.
"Oh."
"You can't go shopping," Helen finished.
"Well this just sucks." Mia crossed her arms and pouted.
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I hope you enjoyed the randomness of it all as much as I did, if you didn't... well, than stop reading the story because its not gonna change. ... well, not likely to change now. I might do a more serious version later, after R/J.