Marshmallow Rules

It was a brand new day. Cherie opened her to see a big flaming ball of jelly in the sky.

Hmmm.

No. Too much. She closed her eyes and minutes later, a regular, flaming ball of fire was back in its place.

The beauty of it all lay in the simplification. A purple, dripping sun may just be a tad too much. Today was day one in the Candy castle. How was it to be? Cherie jumped with excitement at the prospect of the Royal Games. Now she could live in a world of her making with just what she wished to exist. With her most favourite thing in the whole world at the helm. A big, giant marshmallow.

Cherie set about changing her form. It would appear rather suspicious if she was the lone human in the town. And while Cherie had the pick of the lot; all she had to do was make sure she never took the same form twice. She had to completely disappear from the town memory to be able to view this undisturbed. It wouldn’t suit her purpose to be on the roster.

For today; Cherie picked a sweet little foal for herself.  The little deer pranced about in the little cottage as it admired its form. This was even better. Cherie’s confidence had been boosted by the success of yesterday’s mission. If it was even possible, Cherie took even lesser time in thinking of transformations. She didn’t have to fall asleep; day-dreaming was suiting her just fine.

You might think that the sweet, innocent Cherie needed a lesson or two in modesty and truth be told, she did. The girl who had been ignored all her life that had made her way through life with no particular talent to speak of; had found her limelight. And she wasn’t about to give it up.

But the lesson was coming unknown to Cherie and sinful it was too.

More of that later though, today we had to see the Royal Games! And Cherie was skipping with excitement. She walked out to encounter a seemingly peaceful village. A horse snored in the stable while a teapot whistled at the window above his head. The sound got louder and louder till Mr. Potts neighed loudly-

“What are you on fire for?”

“I am on fire. I am boiling here. Can you not see, you imbecile?”

Mrs. Potts was never one for common courtesy. She thought it to be vastly overrated and quite unnecessary.

Mr. Potts suddenly became aware of his surroundings. The hay tickling his nose; his long, swishing tail, his wife going red in the face. Literally.

With a groan, he woke. “Has the Royal Proclamation been issued?”

“Not yet, you still have time. Get over to the registration grounds. And you better not come back empty-handed!”

“What am I to do honey? What if the task is to pick out seeds from an apple?” Mr. Potts looked down woefully at the hooves he had instead of hands.

“Hush! Don’t jinx it. I wish to eat something salted. You know how much I detest anything sweet. And now even the children will be eating nothing but sweets.” She looked angrily at Mr. Potts. She was whistling so loudly; her snout was steaming. The children, on the other hand, had pure, unadulterated glee on their tiny little cup faces.

Mr. Potts knew better than to argue. He walked over to the grounds without another word.

Cherie looked on doubtfully. Why weren’t they happy? Sweets were so yummy! And what was all this about salted food? Did she miss something?

With a quiet step, she walked over to the viewing grounds. It was time!

                         *

The Royal duke had arrived. The golden honey was mesmerising. You could hear the soft tinkling of the stopper as he rolled towards the stage.

“Hear ye, hear ye! The time has arrived. It is now time for the Royal Games!” He paused in anticipation of applause but all he got were clueless faces staring up at him.

“Ahem, anyway. Your King, His Royal Fatness, John Marshmallow the XVth arrives!”

Once again, a deep rumbling sound was heard but this time the kingdom was better prepared for it. All turned to the east and watched their King roll towards the Proclamation Tower.

“Welcome. Today you shall eat Licorice.”

Instead of his complicated procedure of departure; everyone saw the King attempting to sit down. The large throne was a few feet behind him as the king attempted to bend somewhere around his vast middle. It was hard to tell really; the King was completely round!

Have you ever felt like you’re looking at two cars about to crash in slow motion? You know they will crash, you can’t stop it but you just can’t look away.

The kingdom experienced the same feeling just then. They watched and watched as the King bent inch by inch; getting no closer to the throne that seemed a mile away.

Finally the slab of Thornton’s Treacle Special Toffee gave a gentle nudge to the throne as it moved forward. The throne hit the King somewhere between the back off his knees and his calves and he fell backwards with a loud thud.

He looked at the Royal Duke with a triumphant smile and picked a podgy hand and waved it in the general direction of the sky.

“Let the Games commence!”

                                                                      *

“It’s here, it’s here, it’s here!”

Mrs. Frederickson looked disapprovingly at the prancing foal next to her. Another excited child she supposed. There were innumerable excited children around. Who wouldn’t be? Candy and Games. That’s the dream is it not?

Mrs. Frederickson on the other hand did not particularly appreciate whatever had happened yesterday but the nearby sniggering of Mrs Bloom and Mrs Anderson seemed to disagree with that sentiment.  Neither had been great lookers in their human form and their shapely salt and pepper shaker form was greatly appreciated.

Mrs Frederickson on the other hand... this humble author can’t say.

I’m sorry. It’s too harsh.

Cherie was unconcerned with all of this; she was looking around for someone very important and she found the person surrounded by a lot of cutlery.

“It’s lovely isn’t it? Are you excited?”

Cherie had walked upto the Potts Children who were infact the only ones she spoke to at all.

“Cherie! Is that you? I can’t recognise anyone!”

“BETTY! You were not supposed to know that it was me!”

Little Betty Potts couldn’t be bothered with that just now though.

“Why are you a pretty foal? And why am I a frumpy cup?”

“How did you even know it was me?”

“Can one pick what they want to be? I want to be a gelding then! A cup has the most unflattering shape ever.”

“BETTY.”

“What?”

“How did you even know it was me?”

“You’re the only one who ever talk to us. It had to be you.”

“Shucks. Well okay, don’t tell anyone it’s me alright?”

“Why not?”

“Just don’t.”

“Cherie, you know very well that won’t stop me. Give me a good reason or I will blab.”

“BETTY.”

“What is it then?”

“Well. I created this.”

                                                                        *