Archive for the ‘Angela Slatter’ Category
The Frog Prince – The Middle Bit
Friday, January 1st, 2010
How could it have gone so spectacularly badly?
Felicity negotiated Tad down to a family dinner. Was it Great-aunt Bernadette of Grenouille-sur-le-Tapis had married a frog who’d turned into a handsome prince? Whatever, someone had married a frog and it all turned out happily ever after. If worst came to worst, there was always frogs legs for dinner.
Now, Felicity lay so close to the edge of her big princessy bed that if she breathed too heavily she would fall out. That would be better than looking at what sat on the other side of her teddy bear.
Her parents had been utterly charmed by Tad. They ooh’d and aah’d when he told his tale – turned into a frog by a witch – Felicity suspected he’d deserved it. After dinner she’d tried to show him out, but her parents wouldn’t hear of it.
Wasn’t he a fine, brave fellow? Hadn’t he retrieved Felicity’s treasured soccer ball? Wouldn’t he turn back to a handsome prince if kissed? Perhaps Felicity could – ah, perhaps not just yet then. Felicity put down the plate she was about to throw. But Tad was definitely staying and as he was Felicity’s special friend he would share her room.
He lay like a blob of snot on her frilly pillows. She’d have to burn them. He was snoring incredibly loudly. It rattled the frame of her four-poster bed. She moved to the couch.
Eventually she drifted off, the snoring dulled by the earmuffs she’d found. She was having a wonderful dream about kicking a frog-shaped ball when she woke with a start.
‘How did you sleep?’
Felicity opened her eyes. Tad was sitting on her chest.
‘Gnaaaargh!’ she yelled and pitched about. He landed with a splat on the floor.
‘Careful! I have delicate bones.’
‘Do that again and you’re toast, mate.’
‘You’re not very hospitable.’
‘How long do you plan on staying? This wasn’t supposed to be a sleep-over.’ Felicity pointed out.
‘Well, when I re-prince …’
‘When exactly will that be?’
‘The moment you kiss me. C’mon, pucker up.’ He blew a big smooch at her, made all the more gross because frogs have no lips to speak of.
‘Not going to happen.’
‘Then I’m here for the duration. I wonder what’s for brekkers.’ He hopped out of the room.
Felicity glared. There was nothing else for it: the frog was going down.
The Frog Prince
Thursday, November 26th, 2009
She was never a big fan of the castle pond.
It lay at the fartherest corner, hidden by scrubby shrubs, and gnarly trees that dropped leaves into the nasty brown water. Frog spawn clung to the edges of the pond like an unfashionable necklace. Really big spiders waited for short-sighted flies. Pretty awful, all in all.
Princess Felicity generally stayed away but one day when she was playing soccer with the stableboys (because she was an egalitarian sort of a princess), she mistimed a kick. Her golden soccer ball spun off into the nasty tangle of foliage. There was a splash. The stable boys disappeared speedily.
Felicity was very fond of the ball (it was magically treated gold that gave when you kicked it so you didn’t hurt your foot), so she headed in the direction of the splash.
She got tangled up in a vine, lost her balance, and fell face first into the water. When she stood up, sputtering, she spotted the ball, out in the middle of the deep stinky pond. Unless she could find a stableboy, she was going for a swim – except she didn’t know how.
‘Hiya!’
She looked around but saw no one, and went back to starring at the ball.
‘I said hello.’ A bit tetchy now. ‘Down here!’
The frog was the size of a moderately fat cat, green and shiny, with eyes set wide on either side of his bumpy head. He wore a worse-for-wear crown. ‘Hello again.’
‘Hello, errr, you.’ Talking frogs were par for the course. ‘I’m Princess Felicity.’
‘Tad. Prince Tad. Lost your ball?’
‘Obviously.’
‘Not a big swimmer?’
‘Not so much.’ Felicity was getting annoyed. ‘Is there a point to this?’
‘Well, I was going to offer to get your ball back but if you can’t even be civil…’ Tad began to hop away.
‘No! Sorry. Just a bit tense about the whole falling in the disgusting pond incident. I do apologise.’
Tad gave her a sly look. ‘An in return: a date?’
‘You’re a frog!’
‘Look, if you’re going to be froggist about this…’
Maybe it would be easier to ask for a new ball.
‘One date.’
‘Agreed.’ With that, he plopped into the pond and swam out to the golden ball which he pushed back to the shore with his nose. Felicity thanked him reluctantly. He hoped about excitedly. ‘Pick you up at seven, then?’