The Witch and the Princess

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a beautiful princess named Sylvia.  She lived in an enormous palace and had over a thousand admirers.  Her hair was like strands of gold and her garments were of the finest silk in the kingdom.

Sylvia led a sheltered and proper life until the day she was kidnapped by an evil witch.  That morning, Sylvia took a walk through the vast grounds of the palace and came across a flower she particularly liked.  She plucked it out of the ground and noticed that there was another one of the same kind a few feet away.  She picked that too, and found yet another one!  She traveled farther and farther away from the path, picking the flowers as she went.  Presently, she looked back and realized that she was lost.  Being a damsel in distress, she wept and wept and did nothing useful to get herself out of her predicament.  Oh, where was a handsome prince when you needed one?

            Suddenly, Sylvia heard a scary-sounding cackling coming from behind her.  Before she knew what was happening, a green, gnarled, ugly hand covered her mouth.  She immediately fainted out of fright. 

            The witch cackled some more, and carried the damsel back to her scary-looking hut to tie her to a chair.  Ha!  And Blair thought SHE made a better witch!  Well!  She may catch more innocent people than any other witch in England, but she only catches commoners…mere peasants.  Whereas I have captured a princess…the most beautiful one that ever lived, at that.  Plus the fact that I was Cinderella's stepmother in a past life… though no one ever believes me on that.  But no matter now.  Fifty points for Morta…and more coming, if I can keep the lass.  That should top Blair's lead…which was only ten points…ha!  She'll have to do better than that!

  However, Morta's green face-paint and stick-on warts were starting to annoy her.  Moreover, her white hair dye did nothing to improve her appearance.  As soon as she and the damsel were inside, the witch set to work brewing a scary-looking potion, rolling her eyes as she did so.  Those princesses were so easy to scare: a little tomato sauce mixed with spaghetti noodles, and they believed that one really did feed them the blood and brains of past victims. 

            Sylvia awoke to find a hideous, warty, evil witch looming over her.  Eyes wide open with shock, she looked around the room and found it to be unbearably ugly.  "Is…is that a frog's toe?" she stuttered.

            The witch was horrified.  A "frog's toe?"  "You mean the toe of frog!" she corrected harshly.  Then her tone softened.  After all, the girl did not know any better.  "Yes, I think it blends splendidly with the lace curtains, don't you?"

            The princess gave a little squeak before she fainted again.

            The witch looked at her with a dour expression on her face.  "You're no fun," she whined to the unconscious damsel.  Frustrated, she plopped down in a chair to do some knitting.  She found the hobby relaxing. 

            It was another thirty minutes before Sylvia's long-lashed eyes fluttered open, and she started struggling against her bonds.  The witch, startled, sprang up out of her chair, dropped the knitting and dashed to her cauldron, which she started stirring.  She wanted the scene of a scary-looking witch stirring a steaming potion to be the first thing the damsel saw.  If it was not, the effect would be ruined.

            "Do you know what I'm making, little princess?" she asked.

            The princess's eyes became round with curiosity.   "What?"

            "I'm making a potion, of the blood and brains of rats.  And you shall drink it, or else I'll turn you into a frog!  Mwahahahaha!"  The witch smiled inwardly; that delivery had been excellent.

            The damsel struggled some more as the witch poured her a goblet of potion.  However, it was to no avail.  More than ever, she wished for a handsome young prince to come.  He was due any time now! 

            The witch forced the potion into Sylvia's hands, and the it took a lot of effort to make sure none of it spilled on her dress.   It wouldn't do to have a red stain on it when the prince came.  Trembling with fright, Sylvia took a sip of the foul brew.

            It tasted like spaghetti with tomato sauce!

            Sylvia decided that rat blood and brains were wonderful delicacies, and drank the rest of the potion enthusiastically.  When she was done, she smiled, showing all her perfect teeth to the witch, and asked for more.

            The witch was quite taken aback.  "No," she said sternly.  Whereupon hearing this, the princess immediately threw a most improper temper-tantrum. 

                The witch was at her wit's end.  Not only had the princess thoroughly enjoyed the potion, the poor sorceress had a sobbing teenager on her hands.  After a bit of thought, she decided to resort to using her pet dragon.  It would make the damsel faint again, and give her a moment's peace.  She opened the kennel with trembling hands.  She did not like the dragon; it had some very annoying habits that no amount of time in obedience school could fix.   

            As soon as the kennel had been unlocked, the dragon sprung out, jumped on the witch, and started licking her face, spreading dragon spittle all over it.  The witch wrinkled her nose in disgust.  With a few sharp words and threats to lock the animal in its kennel again, she made it follow her on its leash inside the house.

            She grinned at the reaction the princess would have when she saw the enormous dragon looming over her.  Her grin faded rapidly, however, when the princess grinned with delight.  "Oh, how cute!" she squealed, pointing at the dragon, which immediately broke free of the witch's grasp, bounded over to the damsel, and commenced licking her face.  The sorceress rolled her eyes irritably.  It was not a very good day.

            Enough was enough, and it was time for the princess to go home.  However, Morta could not simply deliver her there; it would thoroughly ruin the witch's reputation.  Therefore, she decided to resort to the most drastic of measures – the handsome prince!

            The sorceress frowned; she abhorred the kissing scenes that the handsome prince would inevitably bring.  However, it seemed better than the alternative: an annoying, blonde, ditzy princess taking a permanent vacation in her house.  Therefore, with that in mind, she went to the powder room and removed the green makeup and warts from her face.  Then she touched it up with lipstick and concealer, and put on her angel costume.  She looked at herself in the mirror.  Thank goodness she was so tall – it fit the role she played.  And she had brown eyes – imagine a witch with blue eyes!  Of course, her powers only extended to broom riding, but so much could be accomplished with good costuming and sleight of hand.

Morta walked down the stairs to her expansive dungeons and selected her most handsome prince out of her entire stock.  Placing a sword in his hands, she said, "There is a princess you need to rescue." 

Being brave and chivalrous, as all handsome princes are when dealing with pretty maidens, he said, "As you wish, my fair lady."  The witch surreptitiously pulled a lever on the wall, which gave her a puff of smoke that enabled her to disappear magically.  The prince was completely fooled. 

            She quickly reapplied her green face paint and warts, and slipped into her witch dress.  She rushed out of the powder room just as the prince was cutting the bonds of the princess.  "Stop right there!" she screamed, in her best evil voice.  The prince stopped and looked around, his eyes dark with anger. 

            "For the princess Sylvia!" he cried, brandishing his sword.  The prince rushed toward the witch, his sword raised to chop off her head.  A moment before the blade touched her neck, the witch fell, breaking a jar of tomato sauce at the same time.  A pool of red sauce formed around her head.  The prince finished cutting the princess free, kissed her passionately while the witch tried not to vomit, and dashed out of the hut. 

            The sorceress closed the door after them, grumbling to herself.  After she washed her hair free of tomato sauce, she would take her broom and fly to her good friend Blair's house to cry about her horrible day.  Of course, she would also gloat about her capture – she did have the lead.

            The prince and princess lived happily ever after. 

The End.