Moving

“Ahhhh…” said Kyle, and looked around the castle, “I never thought we’d be empty-nesters this early, love.”

Merryl nodded and sighed.

“Missing Bratsky?” Kyle asked, putting an arm around her shoulders.

“She’s so little to be by herself in another country!” she whispered.

“Huh – you’re not all royal marble after all, are you?” he said, smiling.

Merryl heaved another sigh.

“Why don’t we move over there, then?”

“To Europe?”

Kyle nodded.

“But – the finances, the castle, the staff…”

“You mean being royal doesn’t have any perks except scholarships to hoity-toity schools?”

She mock-glared at him.

“OI! Watch it! I went to that ‘hoity-toity’ school, mister!”

“Oh, yeah, and look how you turned out!”

“Right!”

She launched herself at him, and dug an elbow into his ribs.

“OW! God, that’s not a tickle, that’s a frontal assault!”

“I’m too hoity-toity to tickle!” she gasped, evading his hands and tickling his armpits while he writhed in apparent agony, howling with laughter.

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