The Adventures of Princess Butter Corn

Chapter Wun

Princess Butter Corn demanded an audience with her Father, the King. “Pop”, she said, “I want an audience!” She stamped her foot to make the point. The King summoned one immediately from ‘Rent-a-Crowd’. “What are you going to sing today, my dear?” the King softly asked with a discernable grimace on his face.

“I thought that I would start with “My love is like a Red, Red Rose”, she replied. Now this was not a great surprise to the King, as she had sung this song every day for a year since the Wicked Witch had turned her Fiancé, Prince Lupus Maximus into an everlasting red rose. The King pondered on this, and wondered who indeed the witch, who incidentally at one stage had been his wife, had intended to punish; the Princess in losing the love of her life, the Prince, who suffered the humility of being sniffed every hour, or himself having to endure his daughter’s singing, which would not perhaps have been so bad had she not have been born tone deaf.

When the Princess had finished her daily song, the audience were dismissed and dispersed. Audiences were getting hard to find, as many had emigrated after earlier performances and now only the hard of hearing were engaged and were prompted to applaud at the appropriate moment in exchange for a little cash reward.

The King was woken from his pondering, by another demand from his daughter. “Pop,” she always called him Pop whenever she wanted something. The King found this rather demeaning, but had long given up trying to wean her off this way of addressing him. “Pop, I would like to visit the Seven Dwarves.”

Now in case you were wondering, that implies that somehow, Snow White is involved in this little story. Well, you’d be right, Princess Butter Corn was, at a time long ago, known as Snow White, mainly because of her incredibly dark jet black hair. Well, you know how strange folk are, you get a man 7 feet tall and they call him ‘Tiny’, it’s that kind of thing.

Well it was sometime after the Princess had been woken from her slumber that the witch had taken revenge on the Prince. Often referred to as Prince Charming, it was little known that he won this nickname from his habit of responding to bad news with “That’s charming, &*@£^”% charming.”

Now the Princess wished to visit the Seven Dwarves to see if they had any idea as to how to turn her beloved from a Rose to a Prince once more. “Seven heads are better than one.” She remarked. The King was unsure exactly what she meant by this, but shrugged it off and gave his blessing for her to depart.

The Princess wandered lonely as a cloud, floating high from a serious over-exposure to Chanel No 5. She possibly could have stayed in this state but for reality tripping over a bunch of daffodils that someone named William had left on the path. “Oh dear” she cried, “I seem to have grazed my knees.”

A nearby sheep grazing on the green, green grass thought nothing of it, except a brief passing thought that grass was much sweeter than knees.

A pig busily building a house of straw, suggested some oinkment before resuming his labours, but the Princess ignored him, picked herself up, brushed herself down and started all over again.

After several leagues (note that it fairy tales, measurements were usually in leagues and usually equivalent to how far an average person will walk in 1 hour) she came across a large stadium with a sign above the entrance saying “Premier League players only.”

Thinking that she as a Princess could certainly be regarded as “Premier” and that she had ‘played’ several leagues, she must be qualified, she entered the stadium, where she was confronted by a hideous ogre.

“Oi, you!” he yelled, “That entrance is for Premier League players only.”

The Princess was used to dealing with such ogres and quizzed, “Do you realise to whom you are speaking?” She stated this rather than really asking, and in a very supercilious voice. “I am the Princess Butter Corn.”

The ogre looked her up and down, invoking a ripple of anxiety felt through the Princess’s clothes and through to her very bones, skipping the delicate layers between.

“Oh, sorry your royal-ness, I was not expecting anyone important today. How can I be of assistance?” The ogre responded in a humble yet still somewhat gruff manner.

“I was wondering if you knew the way to the blue clay cobble lane that is found just to the west of the yellow brick road? “asked the Princess.

“I know ‘Is this the way to Amerillo?’ replied the ogre, bursting suddenly into a song and dance routine.

The Princess raised her eyes to the skies and fortunately just bought them down again in time to avoid a passing dive-bombing seagull. The ogre was less fortunate however and with such a large mouth open and singing, the seagull had an easy target.

Not wishing to administer mouth to mouth resuscitation, the Princess hastily took her exit stage right and rejoined the path on her journey to seek out the dwarves. It was getting late and she was worried that she might not arrive before nightfall, so she was somewhat relieved when she came across a wayside Inn, called co-incidentally, “The Jolly Olde Wayside Inn”

As she stood outside, she could hear music and singing and she thought to herself, this sounds like a friendly place to stay the night.

She walked in through the front door and was disappointed to see an old wind-up gramophone from which the music and singing was emanating. An elderly man behind the bar greeted her.

“Can I help you, Miss?”

“Princess!” she responded firmly.

“Where?” Asked the Inn keeper excitedly as he looked around.

Princess Butter Corn realised that too much time had passed since she last moved amongst the populace. “I am Princess Butter Corn, and I require your very best room for the night.”

“Oh my goodness!” said the Innkeeper, “My humblest apologies your royal highness. Indeed I can guarantee that you will have our very best room.”

“You don’t seem very busy at present,” said the Princess. How many rooms do you have here?”

“Just one, highness, but it is our best room.”

The Princess was past caring as tiredness overcame her. “I shall take a meal in my room with a glass of your finest wine. Where is your room service menu?”

“Er, I can do sausage and mash, sausage and chips or sausage and boiled potatoes. Of course for a little extra, I could do sausage and roast potatoes or possibly sausage and baked potatoes, but it takes a little longer. I do have a bottle of Châteauneuf du Plonk.” The Inn Keeper tried his best to look knowledgeable on the subject of cuisine and wine.

“Don’t you mean Châteauneuf-du-Pape?” she asked

The innkeeper reached under the bar counter and bought out a rather dubious looking bottle. “Nope, it’s definitely Châteauneuf du Plonk, a really good vintage. Last week in fact!”

“I’ll skip the wine. Bring sausage and mash and a glass of water. I’ll leave the tray outside the room when I am done as I wish to retire early.” said the Princess.

The Innkeeper thought to himself, “Yes I’d like to retire early, running an Inn these days is just not profitable, can’t even sell a perfectly good wine to the nobility.”

He showed the Princess to her room which was small but moderately comfortable, although lacking the gold leaf on the furniture that she was normally used to. Once her meal had arrived and subsequently eaten, she left the tray outside her bedroom door, locked the door and prepared herself for a good night’s sleep. She could not know at that moment that her night’s sleep would be short indeed.

Princess Butter Corn awoke to the sounds of birds outside her window, but not as one might expect, to the pleasant light songs. These sounds were more of a harsh rasping sound accompanied by sharp tapping at the glass. Yawning, and muttering to herself that it had seemed a ridiculously short night, she threw the bedcovers back and edged her legs over the side of the bed, fumbling to find her pink bunny slippers.

This was a usual routine upon waking and seldom involved actually opening her eyes. Indeed, back at the Palace, she could often manage to get her slippers on, walk to the wash stand, pour some water into a bowl and splash her face all with eyes tightly shut.

Unfortunately, on this occasion not only was she in a strange room, but also she had forgotten to pack her favourite bunny slippers, and instead felt her bare feet on a cold rough floor. This alone was sufficient to unlock her eyelids and jolt her into a state of wakefulness.

“Bother!” she thought. (Well actually the word was a little stronger, but cleaned up here for our younger readers.) Her mind came back to the strange rasping and knocking sounds at the window so she lit a candle by her bedside and shuffled slowly to the window and drew back the curtains. There on her windowsill was a huge black vulture with eyes that seemed to burn their stare into her mind. (It was also clearly still night, judging by the darkness and full moon that partially silhouetted the vulture)

Princess Butter Corn swiftly closed the curtains and ran back to the bed. Placed the candle on her bedside table and hid under the bedcovers. The rasping and tapping continued.

“Go away!” she yelled at the top of her voice. Well this had worked on occasions when palace servants had disturbed her too early, especially after a night out partying. On those occasions, early was usually any time before 2 pm.

She grabbed her dressing gown and the candle and went to the door, opening it to the welcome sight of the Inn Keeper. Actually the Inn Keeper was by many standards, pretty ugly, but in her present state of fear, even the hideous ogre would have been welcome. “There’s something horrible rasping and tapping at my window.” She told him.

“I’m sorry Princess, that’s just ‘Tweetie Pie’ my pet. I’m afraid I must have forgotten to lock his cage up last night. He’s quite a clever bird you see, and has learned to open his cage door. He’s quite harmless though, unless you’re dead that is. He doesn’t like fresh meat. I’ll go and fetch him and put him back in his cage.” With that the Inn Keeper wished his guest goodnight and went out from the room.

After what seemed like 5 or 10 minutes, she hear a scrambling sound and a few utterances, the words being new to her, and the vulture was removed.

Peeking outside she could not see any sign of the dreadful bird so she returned to her bed and put out the candle. Her last thought before sleep was “I’ll never get back to sleep now!”

The Princess was just reaching a rather good bit in her dreams, when there was a firm knocking at her bedroom door, followed by the voice of the Inn Keeper, “Breakfast is ready Princess, I shall leave it outside your door.”

The word ‘Bother’ is becoming a bit repetitive for this story, especially as it wasn’t the actual word used. But it at lest gives you a rough idea that the Princess didn’t take too kindly to being woken from the dream and even less so when she realised that it was still pretty early in the morning.

Reluctantly she decided to have her breakfast, which at least turned out to be fairly good and moderately sized, with eggs, bacon, sausage, black pudding, fried bread, mushrooms, beans, kidneys, potatoes with a side salad just to be healthy. It also included 4 rounds of toast, butter, and marmalade, a large pot of coffee and jug of orange juice. Finally she noticed a small glass of water and some indigestion tablets. Needless to say, it was a rather large tray and the princess could only just lift it onto her bedroom table.

After breakfast, she washed and dressed and prepared herself for her onward journey. The Inn Keeper knew where the seven dwarves were dwelling and gave some directions to the Princess. She in turn duly paid for her overnight lodgings and meals. Had she examined her bill more closely, she might have noticed that the Inn Keeper had included 14 gin and tonics from the night before, which in reality had been the number he and his wife, who did all the cooking had shared after the Princess had retired to bed. This might have explained why he had failed to lock up the pet vulture.

Trekking along country lanes in the land of fairy tales is always an interesting experience. Here the rules of reality are somewhat different and the unexpected happens with such regularity that it often becomes expected.

This explains why, after two leagues, the Princess was getting rather worried, after all nothing unexpected had actually happened. Then to her relief, she met a huge pink spotted toad sitting on a large rock at the side of the lane. On the toad’s head there was a golden crown.

“Oh, I beg your pardon, Princess, I should have realised that you might not recognise me in my present state. I am in fact King Cole and was turned into a toad, by the same Witch that turned your Fiancé into a red, red rose. As you can imagine, I am not now such a merry old soul.”

The Princess immediately curtsied as was the protocol when a princess meets a king. “Oh your Royal Highness, what a dreadful thing to happen. I am presently travelling to meet the seven dwarves, to see if they have any ideas as to how to turn around the witches curse. Perhaps if we find a way, it may help you too.”

“That would indeed be wonderful. Being a toad does have some advantages, not having to carry out all the Royal duties, but the food is dreadful. I find all the flies tickle my throat and give me indigestion.” said the King.

The Princess remembered the indigestion tablets that she had kept from her breakfast and gave them to the King/Toad for which he was truly grateful. She wished him well and said that she would try hard to find a spell reversal.

Little did she know that she had already found a clue that would help to overcome the witches curse and free those affected.

Soon, she came across a fork in the road. She picked it up as it appeared to be solid gold and she was able to confirm this by the hallmark on the reverse side. “My,” she said, “This is an unusual find and a careless loss for something so valuable.” She tucked it into her bag and trekked onwards looking for the Enchanted Forest, the home on the seven Dwarves. After perhaps one hour, she had arrived at the edge of the forest noticing that the forest was considerably overgrown with thorny brambles, making it virtually impossible to enter.

A robin on a nearby bush spoke to her. “There is a path,” it said, “but you need to know the magic word for it to appear.”

Talking robins are not that common, even in fairy tale lands, but the Princess did not seem particularly bothered. “Am I bothered?” she said. I think to be honest she had been watching too much television following the conversion of her fiancé.

“No,” he replied, “but I do know that the answer is connected with something valuable.” With that the robin flew off, leaving the Princess pondering as she wandered along the path, wondering if this had anything to do with the Fork she had found. Suddenly, the wandering, wondering, pondering princess had an idea.

She reached into her bag and pulled out the golden fork. She waved it about and shouted “Fork!”

Well, almost nothing, except that a small boy sat on a nearby fallen tree trunk said: “You’ll never get far into the forest, waving your arms about and shouting f**k at the top of your voice.”

“My name is Thomas, and I am the son of the village Piper. Before you say anything, I’m innocent.”

“Well they say I stole a pig, but it’s not true. I was stroking it and it followed me into the forest. Would you like some ‘crackling’?” Tom said, offering the Princess a large brown paper bag that seemed to be rather full of crispy pork rind.

“No thank you,” said the Princess, “I had a big breakfast this morning, at the Jolly Olde Wayside Inn.

“Did you have the full English Breakfast?” The boy asked. The Princess nodded, “Generous with the pork sausages and bacon, aren’t they? I guess they’ll need some more pork soon then.”

The Princess started to wonder whether somehow she had become an unwitting accomplice.

She had taken her eyes off the boy for just one second, and when she looked back he had gone. In his place there was a large well built police constable. “Er… Excuse me Miss, but I don’t suppose that you’ve seen a small boy around here? He’s wanted in connection with a missing pig. We’ve had a lot of that kind of thing going on and we believe he may have something to do with it.”

The Princess found herself hiding the spoon behind her back at this point. “Well yes I did see a small boy here just a few minutes ago, but when I turned around he was gone.”

The constable took out a small notebook from his pocket. He wrote carefully, ‘boy spotted in woods by’ “Excuse me Miss; would you mind giving me your name and address, it’s for my report back at the station you see.”

“Certainly, I am the Princess Butter Corn and I live at the Castle with my Father the King.” The Princess said all this in such a matter of fact way that the Constable hardly took in the fact that he was in the presence of Royalty. He continued writing … Castle with … “Oh I beg your pardon your Royal Highness, I didn’t recognise you without your crown or whatever you usually have on your head. I better be on my way then and see if I can catch up with the boy.”