The Nanny
Need a Nanny, anyone?
All was quiet in the swamp. Except, perhaps for the sound of a frog sneezing.
Prince Charming was visiting his old friend Froug, who’d developed a cold in wherever frogs develop colds.
“How goes, Frougy, old chap?” Prince Charming was due to date an English princess, and was trying out his British accent.
“Rotten luck, old chap, what! what!” he continued. (non-Brits may have difficulty understanding, patience…)
“I’m miserable!” moaned Froug, sneezing into a large dock leaf. “Look at those married frogs, they get sick and their frogettes bring them hot swamp soup, their tadpoles sing them ribbiting lullabies, and I’m miserable!” Sneeze. “Nobody cares!” Cough. Ribbit. “It’s not ribbiting fair!”
“Come on, old boy, cheer up, you’ll get over it in no time!” Prince Charming was also practicing a certain British form of speech, which involves ignoring problems till they go away out of sheer humiliation.
“Really,” continued Froug through blocked whatevers, “that’s the worst thing about not being married – no-one to love you and look after you when you’re sick.”
“Years (upper class Brit way of saying “yes”), years, but I don’t think any of my princess date options would want to take care of me, har, har, what! what! They’d leave that to Nanny, or Nurse, or something…”
“But what’s the point of getting married if they won’t even look after you if you’re sick?” asked Froug despairingly. “And I so much wanted to marry a princess!”
“Well, old boy,” answered PC, sniffing from a snuff box and sneezing explosively, “at least that way, what, I don’t have to look after her, har har!”
“Oh, is that a good thing?” asked Froug, perplexed.
“Years, years,” responded PC earnestly, “you see, Nanny looks after everyone!”
In the real world, many nanny-less singles groaned vastly. Plus quite a lot of married princes and princesses. Accompanied by the sound of sneezing, coughing and virtual violins.
Ribbit.
Photo by playingwithbrushes on flickr
