56. Stupidest Girl in the Kingdom
Ever the princess to believe in the good in the world, even in the case of suspiciously ugly old blind hags that live in a
skull cave, nursing a putrid stew cauldron, Rosella gave in to her impulse to hug one of the poor old witches. While she
was smart enough to avoid petting the cobra in the swamp, this indeed proved without a doubt that she was the
stupidest girl in the kingdom. Rosella bent down to hug the decidedly smelly old hag in all her lovely royal beauty. How
noble, thought Rosella. How unselfish and noble. Certainly she was soiling her gown by even touching the disgusting
“woman” before her, and yet here she was, generously doing just that! The fantasies of noble grandeur were short
lived for the naïve young lady. The hug slowly grew stronger until the growingly uneasy princess let out a whimper.
“Hey stop that. That hurts!” she cried. Next to her little ear, she could hear the toothy smile cracking on the witch’s
face. It was a trap, and Rosella stupidly fell for it. The despicably clever witch finished hugging the soft skinned
princess before handing her off to the clutches of one of her sisters who held her tightly around the waist from behind.
“No, let me go! Stop! Put me down! What are you doing!?” she spat forth every terrified thought that came to her
helpless little mind while she kicked her legs so hard that her heels flung from her tiny feet. None of it did any good.
The witch carried her newly trussed little friend toward the boiling green waters of the stew pot. The horrible realization
was enough to seize Rosella’s stomach into her throat right behind her terrified screams as she kick and flailed with all
that she had left in her little body. When the poor princess realized she couldn’t break the iron grip of the magical hag,
she tucked her long legs in, desperate to avoid the cauldron’s boiling waters as long as possible. As she felt the wicked
witch begin to lower her down, she planted her stocking clad feet on the edge of the pot, fighting her fate. Her efforts
alas were weak and short lived. The rim of the cauldron was scalding against the thin sheer stockings covering Rosella’
s poor feet. She yelped in pain, trying to keep them in position even as they were sliding off from the force of the witch
pushing her down. In mere seconds the scathing hot metal melted the nylon from the bottoms of her little feet, and
princess Rosella slid into the boiling waters, steeped up to her armpits in stew. Arms over her head, she thrashed about
for several seconds before succumbing to the doomed dinner date. Her final thought was “if only she had been as good
an adventurer as her father she could have avoided such an untimely end!”
The next morning, the sun had rose on Tamir and inside the skull cave, the wrought iron black cauldron was tipped on
its side, a large damp spot on the earth where it had been drained. Fading red embers glowed ever so slightly,
remainders from the night before. A skinny pair of white pantyhose lay over the side of the fat black cauldron. The
gauzy fabric was still damp, laid out to dry against the still sizzling iron cauldron. The beautiful vermilion gown of the
noticeably absent young princess was adorning one of the three hags, a description I will spare you from. Where was
Rosella? Perhaps she went back to try from the beginning…
-The End
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