Meet The Shittiest Princess!
“But fulfilling female friendships that don’t revolve around men are forbidden in my line of work,” said Princess Poot.
A little bit ago, I suffered a devastating life event. LOL, right? Well…no. No with extra FUCK THIS on top.
And so I started anrgy-writing. The Shittiest Princess is what poured out of me.
See, I started writing the adventures of Princess Poot the day after we found out we would never have kids. Shit fuck pisser cock, etc. Among the many terrible thoughts and feelings such a grief gave me, I laughed ruefully and considered…if I were a Disney princess, someone held above all other women as the most perfect, I’d be the shittiest one.
I began to wonder…who would the shittiest princess be? She wouldn’t be blonde, as princesses are supposed to be. She’d be ugly. Have weird hobbies. And handsome princess would step into traffic to avoid her. But even with all that not going for her, Princess Poot turns out to be the most amazing kind of woman: a free one.
Our heroine’s first story is “The Shittiest Princess and the Twelve-Toed Suitor,” and I just posted the second, “The Shittiest Princess and the Tentacled Talent.”
Here’s the first little bit of Poot’s debut for you! May you be an amazing princess no matter who the hell you are or what you’re going through. Because Disney ain’t it, y’all.
The Shittiest Princess and the Twelve-Toed Suitor
Once upon a time, when men were men and women were property, there lived a very shitty princess. Verily, she was the shittiest princess in the seven kingdoms, and in the three kingdoms beyond them. She was worse than even the most terrible royal in that weird duchy that celebrated Christmas all year ’round. It took a month to pry the tinsel out of your sensitive parts after a visit to that accurséd place, a pox upon it.
The shittiest princess’ name was Poot. You’d think she’d be the fartiest princess, but that title belonged to Princess Amanda Who Is Rarely Invited to Sleepovers.
It befell to Princess Poot to get herself a handsome prince, for that is what princesses were supposed to do. Well, that and look skinny in pink.
Poot appeared putrid in pink. The color made her sallow skin even yellower, yet emphasized her pustulous zits. And she wasn’t adept at having small boobs, as per the fashion of the day, the better to glide gracefully in gossamer gowns you can’t wear bras with because they’re designed by men. Instead, Poot’s tig ol’ bitties wobbled to and fro like an oversensitive Jell-O.
Despite these faults, Poot dreamed of finding a prince who would admire her collection of plates featuring human teeth. She hoped to have an entire set some day, both in platter-form and in her mouth.
After years of princes leaving horrifying Yelp reviews about Poot, her father, King Handsome the Handsome (the people in their kingdom, Kingdomville, weren’t too imaginative), decided to hold a contest for his daughter’s hand. He needed her married off already. The Social Media Minions were threatening to strike, for Poot’s bad publicity was impossible to overcome; the black death had more Instagram followers than Kingdomville. So Handsome decreed that whichsoever royal did slayeth the dragon currently menacing-eth the 7-Eleven shall marry Princess Poot.
No princes applied. Firstly, most of them avoided their princely duties by surfing online, and they knew about Poot’s weekly recorder recitals of Abba songs. Secondly, Princess Poot had brown hair, which, as everyone with sense knows, is doing woman wrong.
Handsome extended the contest to minor royals… rich persons… tradespersons… circus folk. No takers. Finally, he opened the challenge to absolutely anyone, at all, of any gender, and only half-humanness (but he was flexible).
One person took up the mighty task: Agnes the Twelve-Toed… [CLICKY CLICKY FOR MORE!]