A Grimm Tale of Intrigue, Betrayal and Tedious Continuation

Key Characters:

The Red Queen – a “mirror mirror on the wall” type who took one step too many through the Looking Glass.

Princess Marsh-mellow of Synchopandria

Prince Roderick of LilliPutz

Sir Nicholas Leblowsky - the Red Queen's Master of Spies and key advisor to the Queen's slimier aspirations/initiatives (i.e. virtually everything) and a very natty dresser.

Lady Diana of PradaPuke - the spouse of Sir Nicholas and the Queen's madame in waiting; also the Queen's principal wardrobe consultant and alleged source of the popular admonition "better red than dead" .

Sir Stephen Sniveling of Cackleburgh – a lower-level functionary who markets other people’s ideas at a discount and teaches classes in outmoded tournament strategies. He has never backed nor taught a winner.

Sir Eric Bluebilled Twatypus – leader of the Peasants’ Proletarian Party, known for his unusual steed – a circus pony that he bought cheaply because it only knew one trick.

Sir Orenthal Pepperosterous, the kingdom’s self-appointed rainmaker (currently the drought has lasted 8 years) and the Red Queen’s acknowledged fool (well, everyone's really).

To Begin - Once upon a time, not so long ago as measured by the threads of the Red Queen’s state garb (houndstooth coat and Mary Quantz cap), the Red Queen looked at the clock on the wall (you thought it would be mirror didn’t you?) and realized that her “best before date” had long since expired. If she stayed where she was and tried to rule one more time, she might be replaced by newer, fresher product. She was bitter and desperate. Her hope to move to a larger kingdom had fallen short; she saw the future through her mirror. It showed that her rival, the Blue Queen of Chicken Littledom, would be crowned in her place.  Even more disturbing was that she realized that her subjects had begun to see that her new clothes were just the old threadbare houndstooth coat after all.

The Red Queen was quite aware that, as bleak as things seemed to be, she still had one advantage. You see, she had no soul and no bridle whatsoever on what she was willing to do and the deceit that she could gleefully practice. People always misinterpreted her toothy smile and soothing platitudes; totally underestimated her callous. calculated ruthlessness until it was much, much too late. She knew from years of experience that people were sheep and that they never caught on when she tugged the wool over their eyes - just before the death stroke.

The Queen’s court was a motley group of little consequence; it included the Queen’s Hand who was far too ponderous of breath and long in the tooth as well as the Queen’s Town (Hall) Crier who was far too pondering and short of brain (although rumour has it he did a credible blackbird pie).  None caused the Queen a second thought – except the Royal Pair, Princess Marsh-mellow of Synchopandria and Prince Roderick of LiliPutz. These two were a concern. The Princess wanted to be liked and respected and believed and admired and taken seriously (darn it). She told people what she suspected they wanted to hear and would never utter a single word unwisely - not when twelve really good ones would do. She studied nightly until her eyes watered from her family copy of the "Flabbergasticon", the secret codex of ruling without excessive merit or effort. Sir Roderick, on the other hand, could care less whether common folk thought him worthy. He just wanted to win at whatever cost. There wasn’t an oath that he wouldn’t break, a promise that he wouldn’t forego, a deal that he wouldn’t trample. He was much like the Queen in this regard – although considerably shorter and with better hair. These two, the Queen knew, were restless. So, she began to scheme.

Although Prince Roderick coveted the throne with an almost painful squeeze of his little chest (and other little parts), he had sworn that he would never battle the Queen. This was not due to loyalty. It was a craven but quite accurate understanding that spit-for-spite he just was not the Queen’s equal. Princess Marsh-mellow, on the other glove, knew in her heart of hearts that there were many in the realm who no longer wished to follow the Queen but she was timid, fearful of confrontation and mindful that the Queen would just sweep away too many contenders. She could never win the crown unless she stood alone (but with great support). So, she called Prince Roderick to her place of business (an inconspicuous coffee tavern in the Kingdom's 'much less than vibrant' lower city) and proposed a pact. If he would support her in the upcoming battle, then she would make him a Deputy Queen (somewhat nasty visual here) and heir to the throne. He would be the only Deputy Queen and with real, coin-heavy gravitas - none of this "save the feudal fungus" nonsense. Together, they would remake the kingdom in their somewhat uneven, vertically lop-sided image. Prince Roderick quickly agreed, part of something being much better than a whole lot of nothing, and the battle lines were set. Princess Marsh-mellow drew together her secret closet of admirers, had them sign a blood bond of confidentiality then told them about the arrangement with Roderick.

The Queen learned of the “unholy alliance” through her vast network of spies; that is, the toadying bootlickers, craven staff of the realm and dinner "photo buddies" deftly managed by Sir Nicholas (with a hockey assist to Lady Diana). When Sir Nick broke the news, it really came as no surprise. It was what she would have done in a “Colorado Instant”. But Sir Nick never came to the party empty-handed. He had a plan, eagerly endorsed by his spouse, that even by their totally bereft standards of conduct, was really pretty sleazy. So, following his counsel and with total malice aforethought, she let it be known to Prince Roderick that she had been offered something much grander outside the kingdom and no longer wished to be Queen; actually, she found the realm to be quite boring after sixteen years. She swore the petit prince (apologies to the original, much better tale) to secrecy. Prince Roderick, of course, immediately disclosed the Queen’s secret to his cabal of Lilliputzian nobility (with their heavy, available coin), promptly betrayed his oath to Princess Marsh-mellow and announced that he would enter the tournament.

When she heard, Princess Marsh-mellow was uncharacteristically speechless. It seems that she had missed the chapter in the "Flabbergasticon" on crass betrayal and was thus totally taken unawares. Indeed, there is even report that her anguished voice was heard coming from her inner chambers - "why that fucking little dragon turd". Regardless, she was forced by ensuing, terrible ennui to withdraw from court on several occasions when her battle standard should have been seen riding high. Prince Roderick, following instincts that are truly nature not nurture, successfully hid his perfidious treachery by acting on these occasions as her champion. His smile was wide and his spirits were high. But so were the Queen’s.

She called Sir Nicholas into her chamber and smiled sweetly and with that, the Master of Lies (or was that Spies) knew that the game was afoot and the trap, all jagged and rusty, was set. He knew that the Red Queen always drew the last blood, hence her name. He almost felt sympathy for those who would be forever ruined by their niavete, foolish pride and blind ambition. The Queen waited a respectable time, befitting her practiced (that is, it didn't come naturally) decorum and the ponderous gravity of the decision that she was making. She rose from her temporary throne (the permanent one was being prematurely refurbished with a booster chair by Prince Roderick) – and announced that she would seek another term as Queen. The realm needed her and her years of experience and she would make the sacrifice. Prince Roderick said “WTF, say what!!”, Princess Marsh-mellow said “Oh Darn, I’m going camping!” and the stage was finally set.

So, this tale draws quickly to its conclusion. As you may have gathered, there will be no “happily ever after”, especially for all the long-suffering people of the realm. The Princess was betrayed, the Prince was played and the Queen lived fiscally insolvent (yes, "in the red") for another four years. You wonder what role Sir Stephen Sniveling, Sir Eric Twatypus and Sir Orenthal have in this morality play. None really. I introduced them to make the whole thing seem a bit more complex and mysterious. Yet, strangely, each in their special and unique way will almost certainly believe that they foresaw and manipulated it all.

The last we see of the Queen she, Sir Nicholas, Lady Diana and a strange man in pj pants and snowmobile boots are heading rather briskly down the cobblestone to their favourite tavern, Jake's High Plains Grifter. Jake loves the royal 'custom' but wishes that they would just once - pay their tab.