The Princess (her version?)

One day the King called his son, the Prince, to his bedside.

“Son,” said the King, “As you know I am dying and soon all of the kingdom will be yours.  But first you must find a Princess and marry her.”

The Prince knew this would be no easy task as he had already turned down several options the King had suggested to him.  The Prince wanted to make up his own mind.  In the past there would have been no question.  If the King had said you will marry this Princess or that Princess—even if she did have a wart on her nose as big as the back forty—you would have simply obeyed.  But these were different times.

So the Prince left the King’s bedside and set forth on his mighty steed in quest of a Princess.

He followed the coast line and visited all the great fishing villages—but all the Princesses there didn’t like living in castles—as they were accustomed to living in wood houses and liked to swim at the beach.

He then crisscrossed the desert until he got to the mountains.  There was only one Princess in the entire desert—and she hated castles—as she was accustomed to living in tents and she liked to count the stars.

He searched all the mountain villages as he followed the mountains back to his own castle.  All of the mountain Princesses hated castles too—as they were used to living in log cabins and they liked to fish in the mountain streams.

He was barely out of sight of the mountains and now he could see the castle just over the horizon—less than a mile away.  Its tall spires were sticking out of the layer of morning fog like islands.

The Prince was despondent as he walked this last stretch leading his horse.  Even the horse hung its head.

The Prince had given up—and was resigning himself to the unpleasant task of selecting a Princess from the choices his father had provided—they just couldn’t ALL be terrible, he cried to himself.  The one with the wart as big as the back forty, could be passed over in favor of the one with the butt as big as the back forty—or maybe even the one that was “forty.” Why couldn’t he chose to live by the sea, in the desert, or in the mountains?

He stopped by a small pond to get a drink of water for himself and his horse when he spotted a young girl bathing on the other side of the pond.  She was the most beautiful vision he had seen during his entire quest.  She was dressed in a film of white and looked like blushing fog.  She was there—but not there.  He approached her, tiptoeing quietly around the pond so as to not frighten her.  Frogs jumped one after the other into the pond like a zipper as he made his way around the edge of the pond.  He was afraid she might disappear like a puff of smoke.  She did not disappear however, and she smiled at him as she pulled her velvety green robe around herself.

“I am the Prince,” he said politely, “What is your name?”

“I know who you are,” she said smiling, “And my name is Princess.”

The Prince thought to himself how incredibly fortuitous this was.  Here he had been traveling far and wide looking for a “Princess” and finds a girl named “Princes right in his own back yard.

The Prince decided right then and there, that if she would have him, he would make Princess his Princess.  Well of course she agreed—how could she not—and together they went off to see the King.

Well, the King was as bedazzled and charmed by Princess as the Prince was, and so of course he agreed that they should be married.

It was a wedding fit for a King to be—and the church bells rang throughout the kingdom the rest of the day.  The reception was a bit too much for the old King and he died before the young couple could head off on their honeymoon.  First there would have to be a funeral.

It was a funeral fit for a King—and the church bells continued to ring throughout the kingdom the rest of the day.

Soon the church bells stopped ringing and the new King and his Princess Queen were free to leave on their honeymoon.  They had not even kissed yet—not a “real” kiss anyway—and they were ready.  What are honeymoons for after all?

While he was packing, the young King could no longer hold himself back.  He ran to his bride and he whirled the young queen into his arms and kissed her with all his might—and her him.

In that instant she was gone—like the fog burned off by the sun at mid day.  All that remained was a giant green frog at his feet—croaking softly in the center of the collapsed wedding gown.  The young King could scarcely believe his eyes.  He never, even for a moment, considered what others might consider his misfortune.

He softly picked up the frog, washing her with his tears—her green skin sparkling in the salt water.

Behind the castle there was a lily pond with tall bulrushes and many large Koi fish.  He took her to the pond and placed her on a giant lily pad.  She sat there looking at him, as if pleading that he would understand and not hate her for finding her way back to the pond.  His love for her was still strong and he decided that he would forever provide for her, take care of her—in sickness and health—all the days of their lives.

Every day the young King visited the pond.  He would kneel down beside the pond and stretch out his hand with a few bits of hamburger or bacon on his palm.  With his other hand he would snap his fingers like one of those little metal clickers you might find in Cracker Jacks—or whatever kind of boxed snacks they had back then.

Within seconds the Koi Fish would suddenly dart about the pond, and out of the water the Princess Queen would launch herself onto his hand.  The water rippled just like a stone coming out of a pond instead of going into it.  She would sit there and puff out her throat and make a great croaking sound that could be heard for miles on a hot summer night.  She would then whip the food into her mouth with her long tongue.  The King would gently stroke her for a few moments on the back of her head or back—–and then return her to the pond.

It is one of the hard facts of life that women have to kiss a lot of frogs before they finally find one that turns into a handsome Prince.

It is a less well known fact (a fact that I doubt anyone has ever heard of in fact) that occasionally—-a Prince will kiss his Princess—turning her into a frog.

I guess some kisses should never be given.