This week’s prompt is

Princess Petticoat folded her arms a fraction more tightly and pouted. Her mother, Queen Bustle would have been proud of that pout. Schooling her at home had moulded a suitable Royal heir: petulant, entitled, sleek and disobliging. The Minister for Gifting, Tim Idli-pathetic applied a grade three cringe to his already glowing unctuousness and waited. It wouldn’t be long. Any moment and…
‘A sodding door? Are you serious? Do you really want to be the first eviseration in the next fairytale, you wholly unworthy toad?’
So conditioned was the Minister to avoid even the merest scintilla of a hint of negativity that his head nodded itself while what was left of his own mind contemplated his chances of making the taxi rank before some regiment of Royal Archers stippled his spleen. Not large and even the effort would be terminal.
‘I think you’ll find, your glowing loveliness that this door is exceptionally perfect for one such as yourself.’
‘In what magical kingdom are Fairy Princesses gifted a door for their birthday?’
‘You father…’ The Minister quailed as the previously immobile heir loomed above him.
‘Do not,’ the hiss had more than a little serpent in its consonants, ‘bring Daddy into this. He would never… NEVER… countenance such an insult.’
Tim noted, not for the first time the continued dominance of the Wicked Queen’s mitochondria in the Princess’ gene pool and promised that, if he survived he’d reactivate his membership of the Fairy Kingdom’s Eugenics Society. He hinged lower, looking up at Her Royal Sneeriness from a position of base abjectness. ‘You always said you enjoyed opening your presents so this…’
Tim swallowed, even though that was difficult with the Royal Grippage playing knead-the-dough with his epiglottis.
‘That’s because the presents are so bloody trivial. Do you have any idea how let down I feel? I want… demand something with substance, with real teeth to it.’
Fortunately for Tim, his inability to breathe, let alone determine whether this last question needed an answer or was dangerously rhetorical rended him momentarily mute. He finally managed a ‘So you said…’
This seemed sufficient for Petticoat to release the quailing nave. To her, rhetorical was the Wise Man in Gone With The Wind. Her Petulancy grasped the door handle.
As she yanked it open, she looked at the pool of human ectoplasm and growled, ‘This better be good.’
Because she wasn’t looking, and her genetic line had evolved a instinctual deafness, she failed both the see and hear what was behind the door. However, she couldn’t fail to feel the gloopy sticky gunk of drool as it covered her from primped hair to perfect pedicure. ‘What the actual flip?’
What the actual flip was was an enormous hound of granite jaw, penetrating gaze and slathering saliva. And teeth. Unconscionable regiments of needle sharp enamel more likely to be found on beaches to deter invasion than in a canine jaw. To anyone with less self certainty than Petticoat, the apparition would have been terrifying in all its blood-chilling tackiness. The Princess, however saw something akin to a kindred spirit in that misunderstood malevolence. Something to be moulded to her well.
‘Daddy understands,’ she purred as she turned to Tim, her face a picture of impatience. ‘Well?’
Tim, who’d been led to believe the present would be a surprise was indeed shaken. He looked disbelievingly at the royal personage. She should be terrified, cowed but her icy sangfroid chilled him to the substructure of his core. ‘You like it?’
‘It’s a doll.’
‘Then what…?’
‘I assume you’ve come prepared.’
‘Prepared?’ What could she want. An iron halter? A steel harness? Perhaps a strong sedative?
‘Tissues, muppet.’
And that will probably be that for the Xmas period as I recharge some blogging batteries. I’ll no doubt post the odd thing as and when but to my loyal band of a dozen or so readers may you enjoy the festive season of your dreams.

I love dog’s outfit, even though he doesn’t look impressed. Merry Christmas to you and yours!! 🌲
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Distinctly miffed
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Lol!! Good one.
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Thank you, and the same to you, your kith and kin, various animals and cuddly toys. Your present is in the post but will probably never arrive due to the various strikes. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!
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Yep remain sticky Peter it’s all we have
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By gum thee’s right there lad!
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You mentioned mitochondria – something for my scientific self! Dog looks splendid although his expression indicated maybe he isn’t in love with his outfit. Happy Christmas to you and yours! I’ve enjoyed your creative output this year!
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Thanks Noelle, and happy hols to you and yours
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He’s only tolerating the outfit because it’s you!
Maybe England are out of World Cup but so are plenty of other more illustrious footballing countries!
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Yep I think they looked good against some other favoured teams. We can live in hope for next time
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Best wishes to you as well–rest and recharge (and eat).
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Thanks we will
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Happy Holidays, Geoff. Love Dogs outfit. (Not sure he does though)
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Nope not happy
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😁
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I return your seasonal good wishes.
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Some gems in this one: “stippled his spleen” and drool reminiscent of Harry Potter are good examples
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Thank you
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A good one to finish with before Christmas. But I would like to know what happened between the princess and the hound.
I’ll leave it to my imagination, then!
Have a very Merry Christmas.
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I think they are like minded carnivores with a penchant for gratuitous dismemberment but that’s just a guess
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Delightful, Geoff. Is that expression ‘when can I take off the stupid hat’? Best to you, and enjoy your battery recharging.
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Thanks Jennie. Merry holidays to you.
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You’re welcome, Geoff. 🎄
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A brilliant story to finish on, Geoff. A very Merry Christmas to you and yours. But mostly I love the photo at the end. Adorable although less than pleased. Was something tasty used as bribery? KL ❤
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Oh, you know a turkey leg or something. I will look at your challenge and see if the juices flow
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I love your stories, Geoff, and that photo is adorable. Merry Christmas. See you in the new year. 🙂
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Thanks Diana. You too.
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This line made me almost spit out my coffee: “Tim swallowed, even though that was difficult with the Royal Grippage playing knead-the-dough with his epiglottis.” What a fun story.
Merry Christmas and I love your pup’s outfit. Adorable!!
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And you. Dog is most pleased.
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