“The day had started off so well.”
My name is Prinz Chamin, frog for hire. Mostly I do bachelorette parties, girls night in (or out depending), sweet 16, etc. Self-employment, nice sized tips for my kissathon performances. And all I had to was let women hold me in the palms of their hands, and deliver a little kiss. No princely outcome promises – it’s right there in the contract.
Been a great gig. Then . . . she happened. I was booked to perform at the bachelorette party of Wendy W. Was doing my lip exercises while the exfoliating mask set. Slipped under my door, a heavy vellum envelope. Inside, in gilt, black, and red letters, an invitation to the party. The wording was sensual, suggestive, and had it been in amphibian, I’d of . . . blushed. I sounded like the honoree, not the fun bits.
As the taxi pulled away, the night air became dense, murky. I could see the writing on it “Witches Coven.” Damn, I promised myself never again. Before I could hop a bus, Wendy W.’s witch-of-dishonor, scooped me up. “Kissy, kissy,” she cooed.
One thing few know about witches is that they all secretly want a prince charming. Now, their ideas of what constitutes a prince charming doesn’t fit into anything but a very kinky Disney underground. And, when a witch kisses a frog – he’s her image of a prince charming. So, I was trailer park charming, power tools charming, derek jeter charming, gordon ramsey charming, and some so hideous, I’ve blocked them from my memory. The room spun round and round as each witch gave me a kiss, made her wish, and poof: I was 6 foot 9 with 8 pack abs or 5 8 with Lennon glasses and a beard or . . .
I must have passed out from all the adrenaline, and testosterone. I came to in my back yard, so hot, bothered and species-confused, I’ve spent most of today sitting on this block of ice, cooling down. I’m going to refer the next witchy night out to Kermit – he’s a lot kinkier than I am!
Some mostly non-Muppet frog fun for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver 49: a froggy fairy tale prompt.