“There’s no such thing as happily ever after,” stated Kyle.
“Too right,” agreed Merryl.
They stared sadly at each other over the cafe table.
“This SUCKS!” Kyle exclaimed angrily. “Where’s our life of bliss, dammit? Where the hell did it go?”
“Cursed?” suggested Merryl, wearily.
Kyle pondered. “Maybe the whole thing was a farce all along?”
Merryl shrugged. “I’m going to the pub… I’ll be back once I’m drunk enough”
Kyle nodded and stared into his empty cappuccino mug.
Merryl and Kyle had well and truly lost their happily ever after. When they married, they were in paradise. Every day had been sweet and full of laughter. Just two years later, and they were heartily sick of each other. Why? That was what they couldn’t understand. The omens had all been right. Their butt-tattoos matched perfectly. They were most definitely each other’s The One. OK, so the fairy godmother had been a bit overenthusiastic, but they would’ve gotten together eventually anyway. So – why weren’t they still deliriously happy.
Kyle sighed, and pondered, and eventually decided that if things were really in the horrible state that he thought they were in, he might as well risk making it worse and calling in the royal councillors. After all, a royal divorce caused chaos in the fantasy world, and he really didn’t want a bunch of fairies and imps mad at him.
A paparazzo snuck in the window and took a photo of Kyle, blinding half of the customers. Kyle had closed his eyes automatically as soon as he’d heard the window open. Life in the public spotlight did that to you. He sighed, and knew the headline would read: “Heartbroken Kyle Cries While Princess Parties”. Life was easier when you were a nobody. Only the old woman down the street made judgments about your life, not half the bloody nation – with full-colour glossy photos.
Kyle left the cafe and headed for his apartment. He walked in the door, and relaxed. Three inch thick walls, reflective glass (bulletproof, too) windows, a bottle of wine and a Bruce Willis movie. Ahhhhh.
As he watched mindless violence and got slightly drunk, Kyle thought about the royal councillors. Much as he cringed at the idea of sharing their deepest troubles with a bunch of paid assistants… he had to do something. And besides, most of the world knew their issues anyhow, what would a few more people hurt? Decided, he picked up the phone and scheduled an appointment, before he could wimp out.
“Oh, you poor dears!” clucked an old woman wearing a Chanel suit and ridiculously dangly earrings. “I think they need some magic back in their marriage! What do you think, Charles?”
“Oh, definitely,” Charles nodded sagely. “The Whooptiwowser?”
“Perfect!” beamed the old woman. “I’ll get right on it!”
The royal councillors bowed, and disappeared.
Kyle and Merryl looked at each other nervously. Magic? It was such an uncertain thing… miracles, catastrophes, and not much in between.
Merryl frowned. “The whooptiwowser?” she queried, “What the hell is that?”
Kyle shrugged. “Might as well give it a shot, love,” he said, “how much worse can things really get?”
A sparkle filled the air, and confetti rained down over them. Strangely, it vanished when it hit the floor. They closed their eyes and grimaced.
Kyle opened his eyes. “I’m scared to open up to you because you’ll be disgusted if you see the real me!”
Merryl opened her eyes and stared at him, horrified. “I always thought you’d decided I was a superficial bitch!”
Kyle grabbed Merryl and snogged her deeply. “Would I do that to a superficial bitch?” he demanded.
He snogged her again.
“But let’s be realistic,” she murmured a couple of hours later, nestling her head more comfortably in his naked shoulder, “this is all very nice, but it hasn’t fixed everything up, has it?”
“Nah… but it was nice to pretend,” he groaned.
“Wussbag!” she teased.
Sparkles of fairy dust filled the air around them.
“OH lordy,” Kyle moaned, rolling his eyes, “again with the Whooptiwhatsit?”
“I think we need to be fairer to each other,” Kyle whispered to Merryl, “I mean, I whinge about having to take the garbage troll outside to regurgitate, but you do most of the castle bossing.”
“Yeah…” agreed Merryl pensively, “but you work hard too, at… what’s that thing you do?”
“The Pizza Palace, love. But then, I only work there to prove to myself that I’m not an upper class twit with impotency problems.”
“Yeah, but I’m not an upper class twit!” Kyle said, and laughed.
Merryl looked at him, eyebrows raised.
“We’re idiots,” he explained, “I mean, we’re more scared of each other than anything else… and you’d think we’d be nice to each other, wouldn’t you?”
Merryl grimaced. “I don’t do nice so well!”
Kyle grabbed her in a bear hug. “But you’re adorable when you’re being sarcastic!”
“So…” she said, “Truce?”
“Nuh-uh,” Kyle demurred, shaking his head, “Surrender or nothing, baby. Come to papa!”
A snort issued from the direction of the ceiling.
“HEY!!” they yelled in concert.
“Who the hell is that and what the hell do you think you’re doing?” screamed Merryl, furious.
“Oh, lighten up,” twinkled Aunt Helgifna as she unfaded into view, “You think it was fun listening to all that? Sickening! And the sex! Oh lordy indeed! Couldn’t you stick a pillow over her face or something? Anyway, that’s beside the point, dearies. You’ve passed Marriage Crisis Talks 101! Happy loving, you smoochy honeys!”
“We need to keep being honest, you know,” she said, “that much truth in a short burst is dangerous!”
“So’s that mad aunt of yours, perving on us like that!”
She burst into giggles. “Oh god, put a pillow over my face!”
“So, happily ever after, now?” he asked facetiously.
“Nahhh…” giggled Merryl, “just stuck and loving it!”