THE REAL SNOW WHITE

Snow White is married to Harold, the most innovative of the Fairyland kings. In a moment of madness he rescued her from the glass coffin but it did not take too long to realize they were not exactly suited.

Harold strode into the dining room to find Snow White finishing her meagre take-away from ‘The Greasy Grill’. He was in a foul mood. He kicked the table leg, threw a chair across the room and smashed the mirror over the fireplace, but nothing seemed to appease his temper.

“I looked a bloody fool,” he roared. “A complete idiot in front of the Dillyland ambassador. How could I explain it?”

“It’s difficult to explain foolishness, I agree,” said Snow calmly. “Not a situation I’ve had to deal with, but then I’m not the fool.” She beamed.

“Shut your face,” bawled Harold. “I don’t wish to hear any snide remarks from you.”

“Temper, temper.” Snow was enjoying herself. “Not a good example for the subjects. You should show a little more decorum don’t you think?”

Harold turned puce and pulled the bell rope so hard it came off the wall and flew out through the window into the moat below.

“Where’s the Court Detective?” he roared at the timid page who answered the call. “Send him here at once.”

“Something upset you, darling?” enquired Snow. “Never mind, why don’t you just pop down to The Spotted Cow and drown your sorrows in Mildred, or whatever her name is?”

“Piss off,” replied Harold. “Ah, there you are, come in you doddering old fool, stop cowering by the door. Where the bloody hell have you been?”

“I was just on my way to report to Your Majesty,” lied the Court Detective as he sidled into the room and hovered on the edge of the peasant-skin rug. There was a long pause.

“Well, out with it, man,” shouted Harold.

“Thieves, Your Majesty. The curtains and throne backs have been stolen.”

“I know they’ve been effing stolen you bloody fool! As soon as I saw they were missing even I realized they’d been stolen. The curtains weren’t hanging at the windows, and the throne was left bare, and they hadn’t been taken for cleaning, so it stands to effing reason they were bloody stolen doesn’t it, you cretin? What the hell do I pay you a good salary for?” screamed Harold. He could say some very hurtful things on occasion.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the Court Detective sank to his knees at Harold’s feet. “Forgive me, Your Majesty I should have bowed to your superior wisdom.”

“Yes, let his Superior Majesty find his own curtains,” said Snow gaily. Harold ignored her.

“So,” he continued glaring at the servant, “now that you’ve realized the state hangings have been stolen, how are you going to catch the criminals? How are you going to do that then?” The detective tried to crawl under the peasant-skin rug.

“I don’t know, Your Majesty. But I do know where they are.”

“Hah! And why haven’t you arrested the scoundrels and put them under lock and key then? We could string them up after dinner.”

“It’s a little difficult, Your Majesty.” The unfortunate man wrung his hands.

“I don’t bloody see why. Have you put the curtains back?”

“Actually Sire, I … uh … can’t.”

“And why not? It can’t be so very difficult to rehang curtains, or are you allergic to velvet?” sneered the King.

“No.”

“What drivel is this? You say you know where they are, but you won’t bring them back, and you haven’t arrested the criminals. What sort of bloody detective are you anyway?”

“Sire, I can’t,” wailed the poor servant. He cast his eyes to the ceiling.

“Why not?”

“They aren’t curtains anymore.”

“Oh, and what are they?”

“It seems, uh … um … they … they’ve become a ball gown.”

“A gown! A dress! A ball gown! My state hangings!” Harold was beside himself with rage.

Lulu the Great Dane scrabbled at the door trying to escape, the Court Detective dived under the sofa and Snow White laughed till the tears rolled down her cheeks.

“That’ll teach you to be so mean,” she howled. “Just think what new curtains will cost, thousands and thousands. Why, you old skinflint, it would have been cheaper to buy me half a dozen dresses in the first place.” Snow clapped her hands in delight and ducked as an early portrait of her great grandfather flew past her head and crashed into the wall behind.

“Ha! Ha! Ha! Think yourself lucky Harold, I could’ve gone to the Ball naked, then everyone would have seen how mean you really are!”

“What, and frighten all the guests, and in front of her royal Trampness? Oh, I think not,” sneered Harold.

The argument raged on, while the Court Detective crawled quietly out of the nearest window and followed the bell rope into the moat thirty feet below, breaking both legs and his right collar bone.

On pre-order now and publish date Thursday 14th April  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01DPVB4M8

UAE KINDLE COVER

One more post to go where you can meet the Green Giant sent to rouse the peasants into revolting.

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