“Reggie, get out of here! This is not your story.” The rat scurried away under the master’s bed.
“So… the king made sweet love to his dead queen one too many times and finally fell into her grave. The End.”
“Marvelous, Frank,” cooed mate Felicia Fox beside him. “Tell us another one. How about the Prince who ate a basketball and it became his head.”
“No, no,” insisted Sam Swan. “How about the Princess who made love to a living person and then turned into one herself.”
“Old news,” groused Cathy Cat. “The Great Queen is the story. How she got good and dead in the first place. Shape pullers.”
“What do you think, Cheeky?” asked Frank Fox to the so far silent chihuahua across from him.
“Dunno. Don’t care. Whatever.” Cheeky then rolled over and took a little snooze on his pillow.
“Shape pullers it is, then.”
(to be continued)
“Top of the line, my Queen.”
“Princess please. I haven’t been confirmed yet.”
“So sorry. My Princess.” He looks toward the doll house again. “Just rolled out last month. 11 rooms for this baby.” He was counting the 3 bathrooms and the crawl space but didn’t mention this fact. Always the pitch person.
“Sandy. May I call you Sandy?”
“Of course my highness.”
“Sandy. If you don’t mind me saying, you have quite a reputation following you around. I read the reviews online. It seems…”
“Say no more. I’ll pack up my wares and move on. I am greatly humbled by even your interest in our fine products.”
“No, I wasn’t implying that I’m not interested. I am.” She winked one red eye at Sandy, who understood what he had to do — once again — to make a sale. So golden and glinty this one is. Better make sure the lights are dimmed way down.
Afterwards he had one of those strange 1/2 doll house 1/2 real house dreams where the sprinkler system went off by accident.