Part I
The Evil Princess
This story begins in a land lost in the swells of time. (As opposed to the swells of a bosom. And there are bosoms in this story; they just don’t play much of a part. They should–if you ask me–but they don’t. I blame the author.) In a place far, far away, a young hero entered a jewelry store.
“Oh–sparkly!” our young hero shouted. This, of course, immediately drew the attention of the store’s trolls.
“If you can’t keep your voice down, young hero, you’ll have to leave,” grumbled the first troll to reach him.
“But they’re so sparkly,” whispered our young hero.
“Yes,” said the troll. “They are sparkly; maybe you should buy one. Also, you can speak louder if you’d like. Just don’t yell; if you yell, you’ll awaken the Evil Princess.” And the troll spoke the truth (for the troll, although ugly and hairy and probably in need of a good bath and maybe a vat of toothpaste–as is usual for trolls–was as kind a troll as he knew how to be): the Evil Princess had gigantic, firm and pert bosoms which defied gravity and were just, well… swell. (See how “swell” fits with bosom in so many different ways? It’s the beauty of the English language. And boobies.) But, she was Evil. Which is how she became the top seller in the store. Young heros just don’t know how to resist the charms of Evil Princesses who do/are swell.
“By the way, young hero, what’s your name?”
“I’m SkipMagic!” our young hero answered with pride. He maybe didn’t know much, but he always knew his name. And if you only normally know one thing, you should know it with pride. (That’s what I say, anyway–and I’m the one writing this story, so if you don’t agree with me, you can go screw off.)
“That’s a funny name. Where did you get–”
“Hi,” said a silky, sexy new voice. " I think it’s a wonderful name. So masculine and strong; you’re obviously a young hero." At this, the troll fled. The Evil Princess had arrived!
“Dude,” said SkipMagic, “Those are some seriously glorious breasts. How do you ever stop touching them?”
The Evil Princess flipped back her long hair (slow-motion-like). “These little old things?” she innocently asked. “Do you like them?”
“Oh, yes, absolutely!” our young hero cried. “Breathe again!” And she did. “Wow.”
“Can I help you buy something?” she asked. “Maybe something big and shiny and expensive?”
SkipMagic snapped out of his trance. “Expensive?” he asked. “Well, maybe not so much expensive as–”
“Here. Watch me breathe again!”
“–okay. Expensive it is. You should breathe more; it’s very becoming on you.”
And so they went, searching the display cases for the most expensive bauble they could find. Each time SkipMagic showed any hesitation, the Evil Princess flipped her hair (again, in slow motion) and breathed again. Immediately our young hero gave up his objections to watch this exquisite display of natural engineering. Eventually they came across the most expensive item yet. “Lucky you,” proclaimed the Evil Princess. “You can spend the rest of your life paying this off!”
“Listen,” SkipMagic started. “This might be more than what I was looking for–”
“Oops. A button on my blouse just came undone.”
“–it’s perfect.” And so they walked to the cash register. The Evil Princess licked her lips, almost tasting her commision.
“Cash, check or charge?” she asked, her fingers idly playing with another button on her blouse.
“Oh, none of those,” said our young hero.
“What?” The Evil Princess’ hands gripped the counter and her eyes flashed dangerously.
“None,” answered SkipMagic. “I pretty much want to just walk out of here without paying for it.”
“Ha,” she said. Her voice was no longer silky. But her boobies? Still great. (Takes more than that to ruin boobies in MY story.) “Ha-ha.”
“No, seriously,” SkipMagic said. “But maybe you could wrap it up for me?”
“Who do you think you are!” Now her mouth showed a hint of fangs.
“The owner’s nephew,” SkipMagic. “And he owes me for fixing his computers all of the time. So, he said I could have it. Free.”
“Nooooo!” the Evil Princess wailed, gnashing her teeth and flailing at the counter. “I’m melting, I’m melting! What a world, what a world!” So, whistling, SkipMagic picked up the bauble and started walking away–but not without one last glance at that swell bosom… the very last thing to melt.
Part Deux
A Rushed Ending Because I Need to Go to a Meeting Pretty Damn Quick
Although SkipMagic was supposed to wait until a more cliched moment would arrive (like hiding the ring in some flowers, or putting it in some soup, or having a waiter deliver it), boobies were playing heavily on his mind, so he immediatly drove an hour and a half to Topeka (which, funnily enough, is in the same state as the land lost in the swells of time) and ran to auntie em’s door. He knocked.
“What are you doing here?” she said when she opened the door.
Our young hero got down on his knee, fished through his pockets for the ring box, pulled it out and opened it. “Will you marry me?” he asked.
She cried a little. He did not. (It’s not very manly, you know. And after seeing all the music he listens to, you’ll agree that he needs all the manliness he can get.) “Yes.” Which was very sweet of her considering that she could have told him, instead, that he was holding the box upside down.
Then, months later, instead of the Big Sur wedding like they had originally planned, they eloped to Vegas and got hitched by a French guy.
Oh. Wow. Would you look at that? There was some boobage in this story after all. Again, you should blame the author.
The End
Oh yeah. Forgot to mention: after the proposal, he asked if he could maybe play with her boobies some. But that’s another story.
