Not-Quite Thoughts on Scented Candles

As leader of the writing group I set a homework task

Designed to stretch creative minds, not really much to ask

Of intellects the size of yours, the Worcester Literati.

The rivals of such eggheads as Stan Laurel and O. Hardy

I try to set a subject that will offer lots of scope

For dramatic flights of fancy, or nostalgia, or a joke

That may be funny, may be not, depending on the mood

Of those who sit in judgement on your work’s ineptitude.

But sometimes, in capricious mood, with motives quite impure,

I ask that you will bend your minds to something quite obscure.

So I guessed that scented candles would quite likely give you grief

And give you hours of torture as you struggled with the brief.

Now, the problem for a smart-arse, is that one can be too clever,

And ask for gems of literature, when he himself could never,

Not in a thousand million years, well not by Friday’s deadline,

Come up with something readable and quite brilliantly sublime.

I have toyed with scented candles, now, and tossed them round my mind

 I’ve lit their wicks and sniffed their pongs but nothing can I find

To raise a laugh or squeeze a tear, so I’ve had to give it best

And confess that being over clever has caused great mental stress.

Not even curried candles, though they briefly flickered brightly,

Could inspire me to the heights to which my aspirations rightly

Soar, the Booker prize the lauded lion, these gems I’ve had to pass.

And I’ve stuffed my scented candles up the proverbial Khyber Pass.

Sealed With a Kiss

“We’re going frog snogging,” announced Princess Mistral, “by the lake.” It’s a lovely day so we’ll take a picnic.”

            “I thought we were having a pub lunch,” grumbled Lady Sharon, as the ladies-in-waiting twittered their disappointment. “It’s two-for-one at the Old Lion today.”

            “Sorry, Shazzer," said the Princess, "but you know very well it's Frog Prince day; one  hundred years exactly since Princess Elvira kissed the enchanted frog, broke the spell, and restored him to Princeliness . So today, to celebrate, we will snog the frogs in the lake in case another prince is lurking.”

            Lady Sharon was horrified. “Snogging frogs is unhygienic and totally gross. The only recorded case of fin-rot in humans was caused by a frog snogging, it’s a health and safety issue.”

            “I’d have thought you’d jump at trying to pull a frog prince, Shazzer,” jeered the Princess. “Let’s face it, dear, you’re famously doggy, and it’s your chance to find a bloke.”

            The ladies sniggered, but Lady Sharon shrugged. When your career progression demands you suck up to your local princess, you take the rough with the smooth. “I’ll come, if you insist, but you can do the snogging, dear, count me out.”

            So the royal party processed to the lake, accompanied by flunkies carrying hampers filled with exotic delicacies and fine wines. The wine was necessary to bolster the resolve of those ladies for whom frog snogging might be a challenging experience, and it was a mellow party that later commenced the search for enchanted amphibians. They were immediately rewarded by the discovery of a small emerald green frog, lounging on a lily-pad, who whooped a cheerful greeting.

            “Over here girls,” it croaked, “on the lily pad. I’m Prince Emerald, just served a long enchantment but out on license. Just one kiss and one of you will be happy ever after”

            “Good grief,” said Lady Sharon, “it’s Kermit, would you bloody Adam-and-Eve it?”

            Princess Mistral was ecstatic. “I knew it! Another enchanted prince, and gorgeous me is here to break his spell. Come here my little emerald beauty, let me make your day.”

            “Sorry, Princess” croaked the frog, “ not you, dearie. I’ve been assigned to the care of that grumpy-looking chick on your left.”

            “Shazzer?” Princess Mistral was dismayed. “Surely not Shazzer?

            “Shazzer it is,” croaked the frog, hopping on to Lady Sharon’s shoulder and kissing her firmly on the lips. There followed a flash of light and a pall of green smoke which cleared to reveal Lady Sharon engaged in mouth-to-mouth combat with a reconstituted Prince, the only evidence of his amphibious origins being an unfortunate odor of pond-water and his emerald green complexion.

            The news of Prince Emerald's transmogrification spread rapidly.Bells rang, there were street parties, commemorative mugs, chat show appearances and State banquets, and Prince Emerald conducted himself in an exemplary manner, apart from  croaking “ribbit, ribbit,” and hopping up and down when excited.

            The Princess was peeved at the attention Lady Sharon was getting and anyway she fancied Emerald herself, right down to his boxers. She couldn’t let it go on.

            “Look, here Shazzer,” she said, “I’m the Princess. I’m the beautiful Mistral that everyone loves, so it’s me that marries Prince Emerald and lives happily ever after. I’m announcing my engagement to Emerald in the Old Lion next karaoke evening. Deal with it.”

            Lady Sharon was heartbroken, as was, to a lesser degree, Prince Emerald. Twitter sank beneath outraged trolls, but it was standing room only in the Old Lion on karaoke night, because the Princess was buying the drinks.

            Princess Mistral took to the stage, hand in hand with Prince Emerald, and acknowledged the cheers of the crowd.

            “Thank you, thank you all,” cried the Princess, joyfully. “A bit of a mix -up to start with, but the beautiful princess gets the enchanted prince, which is how it should be. And now, Prince Emerald and I are going to celebrate our betrothal with our karaoke version of Sealed with a Kiss. Enjoy.” And as the music began, and to rapturous applause, she placed a loving kiss on Prince Emerald’s lips.

            The ensuing flash of light and pall of green smoke greatly surprised everyone, not least the newly transmogrified emerald green frog, formerly known as the Princess Mistral.           

            “Ribbit,” she croaked, hysterically, then, “ribbit, ribbit, ribbit”, she croaked inconsolably, as she hopped towards the exit.

            And Shazzer and Prince Emerald lived happily ever after.