The Great Pudding Battle

There’s never just one,

It’s always at least two,

But more than likely, three.

Three queens – One red, one black, one white,

Phantoms of my dreams.

The red one loves to chatter…

About herself. That’s just our luck.

Whilst the one in black,

She never shies from telling her to shut up.

The White queen sobs,

“Can’t we all get along?”

“Shut your gob!”

Says Black, “Or I’ll give you a smack.”

“I’d never do such a thing!”

The red one lies, for she’s done just that before.

Black growls at her, Red stands her ground, and White wails even more.

Then the Blue Maid makes her appearance, bringing with her a message.

“Your majesties,” She says humbly, “The Green King implores thee,

Put on your jewels and your best dresses,

And, do please, come see him at once!”

“What for?” Demands Black, “It’s almost lunch!” Red complains.

White’s already packing a coat in case it rains,

“We can’t tell him no. It’d be rude!” She explains.

Neither Red nor Black cares, but they pack, anyways.

And off to see the Green King they go,

Each dressed in their best, even though,

Not a one of them cares if he thinks they’re beauties or beasts,

He’s a lesser king, who can’t dance or sing,

Who sounds like he’s likely to croak when he speaks,

“He’s ghastly!” Says vain Red, “He’s a sin to look at!”

“He’s not that bad.” Black replies, “But he’s got a brain the size of a fruit bat’s!”

“A temper, too.” White adds with a sigh,

“He’d start a war over a slightly burned pie.”

“Fruit bat pie!” Red laughs with glee,

And White and Black think she’s an imbecile, indeed.

Finally, they stand before the throne,

“Your ladynesses…” The fat Green King drones,

“I’ve called you here because I’m in need of a wife,

Someone to stand by my side for the rest of my life.

And won’t mind if I’m unfaithful once or twice…”

White thinks he’s uncouth, Black thinks he’s dumb,

Red thinks he could use a little less fat on his tum.

But White also thinks that Black thinks he’s bright,

Black thinks that Red thinks he’s quite the sight,

And Red thinks that White thinks he’s polite.

These quarrelling three, these royalties turned call girls,

Ask him, “Which one will you take to the alter?”

“Well you’re all quite lovely…” He replies, inspecting his ring,

“I can’t choose by looks… Ah! Pudding!”

They blink, “Pudding?” With eyebrows raised high.

“Yes!” The idiot replies,

“The one who makes the best one gets me as their prize!”

Dismissed, they head to market, determined to marry the cur.

White buys vanilla, Black buys chocolate,

Red buys a low-cut fur,

Then gets rice at an old crone’s advice,

And all three return, competing to give their hand,

To an ugly, stupid, rude old man,

Which none of the three can even stand.

These glorious queens, they work like lowly slaves,

To prepare pudding for the king, who is…

Kissing the Blue Maid?!

Yes, kissing! And they next thing they know,

A month later there’s a Blue Queen in the show.

Embarrassed, insulted, the three queens head home.

Vowing to never marry anyone but one of their own.

A handsome, intelligent, classy young king,

Who treats them like what they are – Royalty. Queens!

And they promise each other to never again be divided.

But this, like everything else in life, has yet to be decided.

The End of the Great Pudding Battle