The Princess and the Razor

Due to popular demand I am writing another princess story.  I cannot promise  any ability to maintain the (apparent) original humor of this format nor can I guarantee that I won't delete this post if it annoys me. :-)

Once upon a time, in a not very exciting, kind of boring kingdom called "New Hampshire," there lived a moderately attractive yet plump princess named Kristin.  Kristin lived with a smelly Duke named DJ with two cats.  The cats hated each other, but Kristin and the Duke got along just fine... 

Now because Kristin was a princess, there exist certain rules that apply to her that don't apply to anyone else.  Princess rules like: One must always have something pleasant to eat when the choice is presented (and avoid green things at all costs - they don't do the complexion any good); One must always bow graciously at one's father and avoid making faces at him until after he's turned around - he is the king after all; and of course one must always ignore rules that one thinks unpleasant, annoying, or just generally in the way.  These rules are quite important and vital to Princess-ness.  The Third Rule is the most important because it negates many rules that apply to people who aren't princesses - rules like: One must be polite to people who are one's superiors (well because no one is a princess's superior - except her dad, and that's discussed in Rule Two); One must maintain a certain degree of personal hygiene (because as a princess sometimes you just don't feel like shaving and really who is going to tell you that you should take a sharp miserable object to your heavenly body every 2-3 days); One must behave one's self in public and avoid saying things that are inappropriate and/or considered "curse words" (because how dare some one seek to censor the glorious words the flow from a princess's mouth, I mean really!).

Princess Kristin awoke one day (for those linear thinkers out there... let's say this past Saturday morning).  The princess was in an utterly pleasant mood.  She had a lovely day planned: dining, perhaps dancing, a bit of traveling, attending a tavern she'd not been to in a great long while, seeing a duchess she'd not seen in months, even attending a "movie" - one of her favorite diversions.... it is similar to a court performance by a traveling group of minstrels and actors but the sets and costumes are considerably better.  With such a full day, the Princess was most delighted that she awoke to the sounds of birds chirping and not to that miserable torture devise called an "alarm clock" that had been placed on her bedside table to awaken her for her times at the MOMAD.  Taking her time, the Princess slowly removed herself from bed and walked gingerly towards the bath. 

What happened next is not for the weak hearted.  The Princess was in the bath, water cascading over her (from the delicious shower head Duke DJ installed).  She decided that despite the fact that she didn't need to (because Princess's never need to do anything), she would shave her legs in preparation for the evening's festivities.  To do this properly, as a princess, one must first put conditioner in one's hair and allow it to soak as you attend to other things.  Now while Princess Kristin does not admit that she makes mistakes (because what princess does?), she does admit that the utensil with which she was shaving was sub-par.  A gift from the Queen last Christmas, Princess Kristin had found it in a drawer and was using it more out of politeness than anything else.  Well as she was shaving, disaster struck.  When she looked down at her clean leg, she noticed a 2 inch long, one centimeter wide white strip right above her ankle bone.  Confused for a moment, Princess Kristin was immediately overcome by shooting pain and the once white strip was overrun with crimson, a small river forming from her ankle bone down through the small of her foot.  Preventing herself from screaming (because delicacy, while not required and rarely existent, is occasionally recommended), the Princess placed her foot as high as she could gracefully (about a foot and a half above waist level) against the far wall.  You see, the Princess still had that conditioner in her hair.  And it wouldn't do at all to spend the lovely day with all of that in her hair.  So with her foot perched on the wall, and with a stream of crimson running down her leg, she cleaned out her hair and turned off the water.  The Princess was now faced with an even greater dilemma:  her delicious, soft, plush, towel lay just out of reach.  Holding her ankle above the loo (Princesses avoid saying toilet - it isn't very pleasant of a word), she gracefully reached her hand to her towel, dried off and overcome, sat on the floor, holding charmin to her wound. 

"DJ...."  She cried.  Once on the floor, Princess Kristin realized that 1. none of her servants were around that day and 2. she couldn't reach the bandaids or hydrogen peroxide or bacitracin.

"DJ...."

"Yes?"  She was saved!  She knew it!  Wrapped as discretely as she could, she asked Duke DJ to come into the bathroom.  Needless to say, he was a little surprised by this request.  DJ asked, "What's up?" as he walked toward the door.

"Oh, before you open the door, I should probably let you know that I'm bleeding." This most definitely sped up Duke DJ's approach.  As a valiant and extremely helpful Duke, DJ was instantly by Princess Kristin's side. 

"My goodness!"  Princess Kristin was a sight to see.  While always appearing put-together and organized, Kristin showed a touch of wear as she sat, wrapped in a peach colored, extra-large, extra-fluffy towel on the off white linoleum with crimson pooling out of her ankle.  "What can I do?" Duke DJ asked, with only a mild degree of alarm.

"I can't reach the bandaids."  Princess Kristin, despite her cheerly disposition, was considering pouting.  Bandaids were instantly produced.  "And the hydrogen peroxide?" It was placed next to her.  "And the bacitracin?  It's on my desk in my room."  Again, a moment later that which she required was instantly at Princess Kristin's side.  "Thank you..."  Duke DJ, in an act of generosity and gracious discretion, closed the bathroom door.

After patching herself up, Princess Kristin slowly hobbled back into her dressing room.  Selecting clothing that would both increase chances for sympathy and not rub up against the wound, Kristin dressed and set out for her day.  Her day progressed most fabulously.  The duchess was a delight, as was the meal they shared.  The "movie" was wonderful and the tavern a complete treat.  As she traveled home the Princess was struck by the realization that her horrific incident was the result of ignoring the very important Princess Rules we'd mentioned at the beginning of the story: the edicts of neither personal hygiene nor polite behavior apply to princesses.  How could she have forgotten!

The Princess had learned a valuable lesson.  While preparing for festivities of any kind, ensure that you are the person most pleased with how the preparations go.  And never, ever be polite about bad Christmas presents.