The Prince and the Poozle

Once upon a time there lived a Queen. Kind, virtuous and friendly she spread cheer and delight everywhere she went (shut up! It's MY fairytale, ok!). One happy day she kissed a frog and lo and behold he was a prince. They married, and in the fullness of time he acquired enough information on her to blackmail her into having a baby, er, I mean they celebrated their love by having a child! Yes, that's it!! The Queen was worried one day that the young prince - we shall call him "Prince" from now on :P was not getting over his nappy rash as quickly as one of Royal blood should (she had dire suspicions about the froggish genes - but more on that later!). One sunny Spring day the Prince was released from his nappy and allowed to frolic about the verdant grounds of the castle gardens. After ten minutes or so the Queen hastened off to order the royal naptime bottle be prepared for the Prince and on her return to the glass encased viewing platform was appalled to see the Prince apparently exploring his future as a mime trapped in an invisible box. Horror overtook her when she realised that the Prince had found a Poozle ( a disgusting, smelly and sadly prolific beast, banned by law from entering the Queen's demesne) and had beaten it to death with his bare fists before smearing its gooey carcass on the windows as a warning for other poozle law breakers. The Queen's shock, and the stench, was indescribable! Dashing outside, she fended off the Prince's besmeared hands as he sought to clasp her to his bosom and reached for the wetwipes and the hose. Alas, the vile poozle clung tenaciously to the Prince's person and the Queen resorted to hosing him down , while he danced triumphantly on the slowly eroding carcass of his victim. As the Prince enjoyed a long thorough shower, he knew that he was a warrior as valiant as his father, who indeed had performed similar feats in his youth. And they all lived happily ever after :P