a/N: @annette-martel @isabellafaulkner @ingrid-liljedahl thanks avocados
“I’m sorry, Bobby. Momma must get that crown so we can rule the world.”
“NJKFDNJFKDSNJFKLNASDKJFNSDKJN”
“Yes, I understand that your brothers and sisters are still on the kitchen ground. Don’t worry, Alfrado will clean them up.”
“IHFIUHFDBASJKFNJKVBDFSJHBLJFHDSFJKASDLFN”
“Go to Australia and make me proud,” I said with a single tear sliding down my cheek.
Bob was the last one of his species. They all died. For mysterious reasons. I do not know how. But I will mourn them as I take over the country. Yes, I shall mourn like the sun at night.
Whites gave me a very good goodbye. They threw roses, banana peels, cups of mott’s apple sauce, tomatoes, and nuts at me. A couple got in my hair and I ate it on the plane, which was better than anything I could have hoped for. They were very good snacks. They even held signs with my name with a big red X. I was glad to see they wanted me out of Whites and being in the palace, where I rightfully belonged. One little girl at the age of 18, came for a handshake and smashed an egg on my perfectly gray hair. I guess it was a tradition for the Selected of Whites to get smashed with a food. It was very thoughtful of them to offer me nice hair accessories, but I would be getting a makeover. Not that I needed one anyways, I was already fabulous. What more would you want to do?
I boarded the plane. It was very boring. I had to climb some steps. There were 7 of them. I had to put one foot up each time. My legs were getting a good workout and I could dazzle the Prince with them. I saw 3 girls, already here. They were looking at me, probably so amazed by how beautiful I was. They were all ugly. Compared to me, at least. If not compared to me, they were all decently pretty. The first child, Antlers, began the conversation asking me how I got my wonderful name.
“Named after my great great granduncle,” I replied
The tall one with the short arms, who went by Iguana, asked, “His name was Meme too?” What a fool. That’s a terrible name for an emu.
“No, it was Guatemala. I’m named after his dog.” Duh. How people are stupid still amazes me. 405 years on this planet and they are still all so… stupid.
The last kid, Iowa, barely said a word. She was the smartest corn on the cob. She was so stunned by my attractiveness that she could not speak at all, much like how I look when I look at my dearest bob. Wow. I do not need a makeover, I guess. They stared at my bosom in awe as I fluffed up my hair. It was taller than Prince Dominic’s ego and thicker than his dick.
Antlers pulled out her purse and whipped out some breadstix. How lit. I started to feel sick to my very attractive stomach. Someone had cheese and they were sent here to kill me, the future Queen. THIS WAS TREASON. TREASON, I TELL YOU, TREASON! I must order them to be executed immediately, with lots and lots of armpit farts and dungeon rat dung. I shrivelled up in fear of my life. CHEESE. I finally met my enemy. It was truly terrifying. It was worse than the time I almost got my hair chopped by a guillotine. These barbers, they’re really getting out of hand nowadays. I said I wanted a trim. You know what I got? I GOT 4 CENTIMETERS CUT OFF. These barbers think they have the right to ruin my wonderful hair at the cost of $2.94. They’ll pay for that. They’ll pay way more than $2.94 or even $2.97. I WILL SUE THEM WHEN I BECOME THEIR RIGHTFUL QWEEN.
“Cheese kills… v-vampires,” I choked out weakly. Ant and Iguana kept eating, offering me wine. Did they not know that clearly I could not have wine while dying? I clearly needed some bird saliva mixed with rum and a hint of vodka.
I zoned out for a moment until I heard them talking about Whoopi Goldberg. I was hoping that they had whoopie pies on the plane but they didn’t. What kind of donkey ass plane is this? No whoopie pies? Did my ostriches die for this? They risked their lives for an empty whoopie pie plane. How shameful. They’ll be #69 on my list of people to sue.
“By the end of the week, he’ll have my name tattooed on his forehead” I said with a squirtle like grin on my face.
Apollo had the nerve to speak to me without looking at my gorgeous hair at the same time. How rude. “What are you going to do, wrestle him to the ground and write your name on his forehead with permanent marker?” She continued to sip on her water for the next 10 seconds like Kermit the motherfucking frog.
What kind of an imposter did she think she was? I could tell she wasn’t half as attractive as Kermit so why was she even trying?
“Bingo.” The realization I had the other week hit me like the lightning bolt on Harry Potter’s forehead. “Wait no, bingo is me.” Wow. I was so smart. That guy Alfredo Einsticker could go kiss my bosom.
“By the end of this week already?” Israel asked in a surprised tone. How was this a surprising statement? Dompomkomwom was obviously already in love with the shape of me, so why were they looking at me in terror?
“You’re right. That’s too long. I say by the end of the day.” If they weren’t poor squashbuckers I would’ve made a bet already. They probably weren’t all poor but poor compared to me, and my plentiful ostrich riches. If they had asked I would’ve told them the story of my success. It all came from my hair and my ostriches. And a orange-colored corset tied onto a camel that spit every time you said anything that began with a ‘t’. Except turtle, he would murder you if you said turtle. Or any other word starting with t for that matter. Never say a t word around Tim.
They spent the rest of the plane ride admiring my beauty, while I ate some of the mott’s applesauce that was gifted to me from the gods while I was leaving Whites. I can’t help that I was born as an applesauce eating goddess. Wow, both a goddess and a future Queen. Bobby would be so proud of me. And all my other ostriches. Even the exiled one, Rudolph. He was hunted for having a bright neon green nose. It wasn’t his fault I dipped his nose into radioactive poison when he was 3. Duh. He should have stopped it. It’s not like he had covering on his nose so he was practically asking for it (right).
I cried thinking about what those nasty people would try to do when they “made me over” as if I needed. The only thing acceptable for them to do to my beautiful face to make me even slightly more prettiful was if they made me look like Kermit. Not a fake version of Kermit like Addition. NO, I would be as glorious as the real thing or stay the same.
When I got to the makeover place I was put in station ight. They tried to touch my hair and I yelled at them telling them messing with the future qween was treason. They did not agree and said apple sauce did not belong in a ladies hair. Obviously all the ladies they had been meeting had been wrong.
Finally a reasonable level headed woman came over and told the others “they could have a break from the crazy lady.” I think they were talking about Berklee. The woman asked me a series of questions including, mostly the same one over and over again.
“You really don’t want to change anything?” and also “Are you on crack?”
To which I responded naturally “You don’t mess with perfection Miss donought.” and also “The only cracking I do is Prince Domwompom’s nuts.”
After the makeover nothing important happened until I stumbled upon a rather odd looking midget. She was very snarky and full of snakeness which I did appreciate, but I learned she was my future cousin in law so I tried to play nice. At first I thought it was that blond booby Mertle’s pet Coco. Apparently I was wrong. It’s not my fault I mistook a 4 year old for a small rat. They looked similar.
“Hello, small child,” I said, squinting my eyes to see if it was a girl or a tiny monkey. “Who are you?” she asked. What a dumb child. She didn’t know who I was.
“The future Queen,” I answered. Duh. “I doubt that.” “Why? I am a delight,” I said. Unbelievers. They would suffer once I became Queen.
“You look funny,” she said. “Does funny mean gorgeous in another language, because if so, then yes,” I replied.
“Nope.” “Listen child, that’s very rude.” “So?”
“So you shouldn’t be rude because that’s rude. And I don’t appreciate the sass, young lady.” Who taught this child their manners? I recommend for them to read my book: Parenting Rude Ostriches 101. This was a rude child. I left soon after that because I couldn’t stand to be around such a butthead.
After that encounter I was rather upset so I went to my room and cried, after all I am only ostrich. My maiders tried to comfort me but I sent them away forever, much like the style peoplees they would probably try to ruin my look, and I could not risk that. Plus, how was I supposed to smuggle an ostrich into my room with people constantly snooping on me?
I could do it. I would do it. After all, I was the future Queen and I could do anything.
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