The wind swept over the moors as the young queen ran, unaware of the rain soaking her heaving bosom. Struggling through the thorns and jagged stones, she ignored her aching lungs and screaming muscles, she needed to reach the rocky peak. Slowly she pulled herself up and stood, the raging storm was no match for her fierce stare. He was out there somewhere. In her very heart she could sense him, see him, smell him.
Suddenly she threw back her head, baring her long, snowy white neck to the sky. "West!", she laughed. It was so obvious.
Stella, the handmaiden, waited at the bottom of the peak. Terrifed at her queen's sudden transformation, she wept uncontrollably, and loudly.
The queen knew what had to be done. She rushed past the blubbering Stella and into the manor house. She needed to get ready! Tearing apart her chamber in frustration and need, Stella meakly quivered in the corner.
"My queen." she whispered. "What are you looking for?"
The queen stopped her destruction and glared at the handmaiden, she strode across the room in a fury and head butted Stella quite efficiently. "I need perfume, musk...something to call my beloved to me!" Unable to decide between Chanel No. 5 and White Diamonds, Queen Dottie, just peed all over herself. Satisfied with the result, she again began knocking down the wall.
Bursting through the door came the serving wench. Dottie stopped her attack and stood silently, seething with contempt.
The serving wench looked concerned. Dottie noted that the concern seemed to be directed more at the leaning wall that it did with her desperate condition.
"What the heck is going on in here?" Unfortunately good help is hard to find and although the serving wench administered to her dietary needs and kept her chamber clean and comfortable, a high level of intelligence, she had not.
Dottie stared at her, willing her to understand the situation. Suddenly a light went off in the serving wench's dim intellect. "Oh, I see." she said, her cheeks blushing pink. "I think I know what to do." Gathering her skirts she ran to have a message delivered.
Pacing and wincing the entire village waited for the message to be returned. FINALLY it was determined that a clandestine meeting could be arranged and the queen was rushed from her chamber and into an awaiting carriage.
Stella the handmaiden, was by now in a fit of hysterics. She raced back and forth through the garden screaming in confusion. The village smithy, who was also the serving wench's husband, was trying to replace the spark plugs in the royal carriage. He finally put his hands over his ears and rocked back and forth. "Find your happy place, find your happy place..." he muttered over and over.
Erstwhile, the queen was collapsed in the back of the carriage. In the melee of the departure, the serving wench had just started off west, forgetting to check Mapquest and also forgetting about the ease and advantage of the interstate transportation system. Instead she set out using backroads that she had never transversed before. Afterall, nothing says "pleasant" like a Sunday afternoon drive through the Maine woods with a horny goat in the back of your minivan.
Passing Treworgy Farms, Dottie suddenly sprang from her stupor and threw herself against the slightly open carriage window. A group of Swiss men who had been seasonally employed at the farm, sauntered and loitered in the petting zoo area. Dottie momentarily forgot about her betrothed and begged the serving wench to stop so that she could meet them. The serving wench steadfastly refused. "Those are Oberhasli, Dottie. You are a Nigerian, your love awaits elsewhere."
Finally after an hour of reckless meandering the carriage pulled into the court of him. Of the Count Romeo Valentino, born on Valentines day and a man among men. His eyes were blue like the ocean. His hair flowed in the breeze, except the locks saturated with his own pee. His concubines and a silly eunich greeted the carriage, curious as to the drama. Dottie however, wasted no time in insipid introductions, she jumped from the carriage and ran to find her man.
Masking her bashfullness and coyness with wantoness and lust, she entered his chamber. The 4.5 milliseconds they took getting to know each other seemed to take much less time. Regardless of their lack of privacy, the couple embraced one another, and then again and again and then one more time. Dottie wondered if she would ever tire from the affections of her Romeo. Alas, after an hour his serving wench had to put a boiled dinner on the stove and Dottie was escorted out of his chamber. Both still longed for more time. Well, Dottie could have been convinced, but she was a little dazed at that point. Looking over her shoulder, she hesitated but was prodded on by the serving wench.
"I love you Dottie!" Romeo screamed from the confines of his chamber, his tongue flapping suggestively.
Iris, the concubine raised an eyebrow. "Oh no, you did--ent!" For once upon a time, she had been Romeo's beloved, like last week or something.
Dottie was lifted back into the carriage. Levity was made about getting her cigarette. She found no humor in the peasant's jocularity.
Wistfully she lay down and smiled, satisfied. The journey home was uneventful, though Dottie wondered if perhaps the serving wench planned on a side career as a robber as she had her sweat shirt pulled up over the bottom part of her face. It couldn't have been to mask the smell, for Romeo's perfume permeated the entire carriage and threatened to until time or Febreeze dispersed it.
It did not matter. The queen was quiet, satisfied and cross your fingers...knocked right the heck up.
Smiles from the (chicka-chicka-mow-wow) farm,