Ponyboy was the prince of a nation – or rather, the prince of Tulsa, which was really little more than a dilapidated castle and a few shacks – but he knew whoever lived here mustn't have as much status as he had. As such, he knew he did not need to knock; they would surely bow before him when they learned who he was.

There was no one in the grand entrance hall, so Ponyboy made his way towards an oddly short door at the other side of the room. He was not finished growing yet, but even he would scrape his head going through that. Ponyboy had tried teaching Darry to duck for an entire month last year, unsuccessfully. Darry was simply too stupid. It had entertained Sodapop though, who had cackled insanely every time Darry's head smashed against the low branch.

Sighing and breaking away from his whimsical musings of the home he was banished from, Ponyboy focused on the music coming from behind the door. He did so love parties, and it was almost enough to make him forget that he was unwanted. He reached out and turned the knob, expecting to see scores of partying teenagers. He was disappointed, however. There were only… seven? No. No, this couldn't be right! Seven was the number of failed parties, parties that Ponyboy used to host. He wasn't the most popular prince in Tulsa.

The seven boys' heads whipped around, and they fixed him with angry looks. Ponyboy was almost blinded at the amount of bling revealed as the boys turned around. "Who are you?" one asked.

Ponyboy knew Sodapop would probably order the death penalty if he were questioned like this, but Ponyboy was just too nice. He smiled at them. "I am Prince Ponyboy, come from the Castle Tulsa, here to visit you," he said with a winning smile.

The boys looked unimpressed. "Prince? Castle? We don't like royalty. They take taxes, and we quite enjoy our wallets."

"I don't," said Ponyboy, voice sweet as honey and dripping with sincerity. "In fact, I am little more than a peasant now. I have been disinherited, disheartened, made homeless. They even took my American Express!"

All of a sudden, the eyes of the seven boys softened. "Oh, you poor thing!" said one who looked like a drag queen. "We have to let him stay here!"

"Not meaning any offence," said Ponyboy, because he couldn't bear to offend anyone, "but may I speak to your parents?"

All while this was being said, the music was still blaring in the background. Perhaps Ponyboy had not noticed because the conversation was just so riveting, perhaps because the author was too incompetent to handle more than one thing at a time. Either way, it filled the painful silence that ensued.

"We're adults," one said finally.

Ponyboy was gobsmacked. These were surely children! They were ever so small! "No!" he cried in shock.

"Yes," insisted the same. "We are cursed… forced never to grow taller than five feet, for we are descended from the great and mighty Cal, who we honour as often as plotline allows, for she is great and mighty, yet tiny. My name is Randy, because I'm always horny." He pointed to the rest in turn. "That's Bob, because he always insists on a bad haircut; Cherry the drag queen who was once Frank; that's Edward and Jacob – they have a thing going but we pretend to know nothing; Steve Jobs – he steals our stuff, draws apples on them and sells them back to us for a ridiculously high price; and Sarah Palin."

"Howdy!" said Sarah Palin, polishing a rifle in the corner. "I like this one, Randy. He's got the perfect physique for mini golf."

Ponyboy flushed. One would think that spending a childhood being chased around by Sodapop with a flamethrower would make him a more muscular person. One would be wrong. Perhaps it had something to do with his ecstasy induced conception, but Ponyboy had the body of a drug addict.

X X X X

Back in Castle Tulsa, Sodapop was busy playing Angry Birds. No, he did not have an iPhone. This is a 1960's fandom fic set in a castle; where on earth would he get an iPhone? Anyway, Sodapop was busy playing Angry Birds… without an iPhone.

He had spent the morning watching his slaves build him a course of wood, stone and ice, and place pigs inside it. Now he had the castle slingshot, and he was going to use it.

He selected a red robin. It would have flown away and ruined everything, but Sodapop had prepared and had spent the morning carefully burning off its wings. Oh, come now, are you surprised? He is the villain here!

Sodapop placed the bird in the slingshot and pulled back, lining it up with the pig he wanted to hit. He let fly, managing to completely miss. He let out an unholy screech, clenching his fists in rage as his subjects cowered before him. "GAH!" he cried. "Burn it! Burn it all!"

"B-but sire, there are still pigs inside!" objected one very brave, very stupid girl.

"I said burn it all, now burn it all, goddammit!" Sodapop cried. "Off with her head!"

"Sire!" cried the girl. "That's the wrong fairy tale!"

"Alice in Wonderland is not a fairy tale, stupid girl!" Sodapop screeched. "And they say I have learning disabilities! Fine! You shall be castrated, and then shall your head come OFF!"

And with that, Sodapop stormed off. The girl was too timid to point out that she was, in fact, a female.

Sodapop stormed up to his room. He had killed another family member, but he did not feel quite so satisfied as he had when he had killed his father. He would consult his mirror, then he would go after Darry, just to make himself feel better. Sodapop rather liked being the king's puppetmaster, more than he would like being the king himself.

Ripping away the blanket (Two-Bit was still horny for his cells) Sodapop asked the old question, "Mirror mirror, covered in porn, who's the prettiest this fair morn?"

And Two-Bit replied, "Your looks are unmatched in Castle Tulsa, but Ponyboy still sleeps with a rooster."

Sodapop's chest heaved with rage. He was not having a good morning.

X X X X

A/N: Found the intros boring, so did not spend long on em. Anyone who doesn't know: Steve Jobs is the CEO of Apple. Was written in an hour while high on hormones in the middle of the night and totally unbetaed so not the best but w/e.