The Princess in the Tower

“It’s about time you woke up.” a relieved smile breaks over an exasperated face. The girl blinks.

“Did you just kiss me?” she asks, pushing herself to her elbows. Does she know this guy? He’s awfully familiar, sitting on the edge of her—fingers stretch to tap the angled glass of open lid above her prone body. Glassed in bed set?

“CPR. May I?” he extends a hand. Helping her to a nearby chair, he hands off a scroll the instant she’s situated. She unfurls it, revealing an image of a coffee pot festooned with an image of half-open eyes.

“I’m sure that will help. Easy does it, Princess. You’ve been powered down awhile.” Glancing at a bracelet attached to his forearm at the wrist, he taps a reflective, flattened pendant.

“Make that a long while—and 56 seconds. It’ll take you a bit to get your sea legs.”

“Sea legs.” the girl repeats. “But we aren’t asea—are we?” anxiously she turns toward the window, reassured by the lack of liquid horizon in the vibrant night firmament. My, there are a lot of shooting stars in the sky tonight.

“You need to reboot.” He says matter-of-factly. She glances at her velvet-slippered feet, a fragment of memory returning.

“I’m not the glass shoe Princess.”

“As long as you’re awake, I don’t care what princess you want to be.” the man thrusts a handful of lapel pins toward her. A hodgepodge of hearts, smiley faces, and penguins, of all things.

“I’m not Thumbelina, am I?” she asks, unable to disguise the horror the thought of being that diminutive digit instilled in her.

“You’re not. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just—well—your hands!” she chokes out, extending a timid index finger toward his well-shaped thumb—and his next—and his next—and his next, all on the same hand and that’s not even counting the thumb, thumb.

“That’s a lot of opposable digits!”

“You should talk. Look at your archaic hands. They’re hopelessly obsolete.”

“I like them just fine, Monkey Man.”

“I mean, they’re never going to repackage that model—what? What did you say?”

“I said—”

“I heard you.” the man’s tone is peeved. “I’m going to report that remark.” the nattily dressed fellow flexes all five of his infinitely jointed digits downward. “Put on one of those frownie face buttons right now.”

“You mean this?”

“It’s like you’ve been under a rock!” the man declares, fastening an unhappy circle of yellow to her bodice. Flattening his empty palm, his thumbs wiggle impatiently. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d give me back one of those heart buttons.”

“But you just gave those to me.”

“Make that two. I’m not getting anything out of this interchange at all.” the man sulks, brow furrowing, but 8 of his thumbs snap after only a moment. Walking to the door, he flings it wide.

“F*cking cabbages!” he yells.

“That’s odd. The doorbell sounded after you opened the door.”

“F*cking cabbages-one!”

“There it is again!”

“Dollar sign F*cking cabbages-one!” the man bellows, and this time, the answering doorbell sound is octaves lower.

“Where are we going?”

“Nowhere at all. Make the duck face, would you?” the man says, grabbing her elbow and pulling her onto a blinding white walk edged in royal blue. Bracing his hands to his knees, he hunches over, and hyperventilates several times.

“The Prince is in a relationship! The Prince is in a relationship!”

“Why are you screaming like that? There’s no one here at–ouch! What the hell?” reaching for her crown, the Princess removes a curved UFO from its filigree carefully.

“Gimme that!” the man barks, even as similar items rain down on all sides. Leapfrogging to retrieve them all, he fans his curved, plastic catch proudly. “15 already!”

“15 what?”

“LIKEs! For our relationship status.” his expression grows dopey, and he pulls her to him. “I’d like to comment: You are one sexy babe, and I like you at least 15 times—” he breaks off, dodging to catch another stamped boomerang coming in low. He consults it before adding: “16 times as much as I did a minute ago.”

“I’m going back inside.”

“And I’m going to a friend’s.” the man says, and frankly, the girl is relieved. It’s hard enough to gather her bearings without the freak of nature’s commentary, so it’s especially annoying when he returns just seconds later.

“No one home?” she says, and the Prince is surprised.

“Of course my friend was there. Where else would he be?”

“But you weren’t even gone a minute!”

“That long?” he says. “Hey! What are you doing?”

“Wake me when it’s the next millennium.” the Princess says, arranging her dust cover before pulling her transparent berth closed. “If you LIKE.”

~

Shut Down