The Shittiest Princess and the Discount Hero

The Shittiest Princess is a series of funny fairy tales for those of us who ain’t exactly cartoon princesses. Stay tuned for a new adventure every week!  You can find the whole series here.

Long ago, there dwelt a royal named after a fart. No, not Prince Harry, but Princess Poot of Kingdomville. Of all the shitty royals in history, Prince Har — Princess Poot was the shittiest, for she was terrible bad at Badminton, which had been named Goodminton before she took it up.

One day, Poot strolled by the moat to take in the sun, hoping it might dry out certain of her greasier spots. Her friend Squid had just swished to the shoreline to visit with her when a clanky man in armor rushed to her side and brandished a weapon at Squid. “Halt, horrid sea beast!” said the knight.

“This is a moat,” replied Squid. “And my title is Official Exemplary Moat Beast, thankyouverymuch.” Indeed, he and Poot had worked for months to secure the title for him over that uppity moat turtle.

The knight turned to Poot and bowed. “I am Sir Sav-a-Lot, and I shall rescue you from this hideous creature.”

Poot exchanged eyebrow lifts with Squid. “I am Princess Poot. And no, thank you.”

Sir Savior lifted his visor and squinted watery blue eyes. “But you are a woman…?”

“Good guess.” Poot brushed out her dress. “I do enjoy your discount stores, Mr. Sav-a-Lot.”

His blonde moustache twitched. “I’m not… that’s a different branch of the family.” He lifted his mighty sword and slashed it to and fro. “I am a knight from across the sea, and I am sworn to save princesses.”

“Keep waving that shit in my face,” Squid said, “and you’re going to be the knight under the sea. Capische?” One of squid’s long tentacles plucked the weapon from the knight and threw it into the moat.

Poot patted Sav-a-Lot on the shoulder. “Good luck rescuing maidens, but we’re all fine here. Have a nice day, Squid.” She started back toward the castle, annoyance bristling her nose hairs that her pleasant afternoon had been interrupted by —

“Princess!” The knight caught her up in the castle, his armor rattling like Poot’s nerves. “I am sworn to defend you.”

“I didn’t hire you.”

“But you require constant protection.” He jumped ahead of her and slashed a dagger at several bustling Minions trying to complete their jobs. Three of them tripped in fright and fell, taking Poot down with them until they all thumped to the floor in a heap. “The princess has been attacked!” screamed Sav-a-Lot.

Poot’s right boob starfish got sliced by his knife as she tried to defend the Minions from his wrath. “Sir Knight! I insist you stop at once!”

“What’s going on?” Agnes stood over the crumpled forms of Poot and the cowering Minions. “I came to find you because the monks have gotten into the whiskey stores again and are drawing lewd illuminations.”

The princess clapped her hands. “Lewduminations?! Those are my favorite!” Poot gave Sav-a-Lot a quick kick to the shin. He fell backwards and thrashed like a horrid moat turtle stuck on its back. “Let us run away from this fool.” And they did.

An hour later, Poot and Agnes were knee-deep in gilded peen drawings and having a raucous time with the Official Order of the Super Horny Holy Men. The hunkiest monk had just decided that they should all go skinny-dipping when Sir Sav-a-Lot burst into the room. He ran toward Poot and stopped in-between her and Hunky Monk-y. “I shall save you for this well-hung man’s nudity, Princess!”

“Oh, fiddlesticks,” said Hunky Monk-y.

“&*@%^!” said Poot. “Leave me alone! Save me from your surely moldy brain!”

Agnes walked around Sir Stupid and took a nice gander at Hunky Monk-y. “You’ve gotta see this, Poot. He does calligraphy with it! Damn shame about the monk thing…”

Poot whimpered and tried to move around the knight. He blocked her every view. “Sir Pic-n-Save, I order you to leave me be! I’m a princess, so you have to listen and whatnot.”

The knight lifted his chin. “Yea, you are a princess, but I am a knight, and a man. I know what is best for you, your highness. And what is best is me deciding what you should look at.” He put a hand on his chain-mailed hip. “See, women are confused by their menstruations. The blood travels from their brain pan area to the yawning cavern of doom, from whence it explodes, threatening all in its path. Also, you have less upper body strength, which makes you unfit.”

“Unfit for what?” Agnes asked, a razor in her voice.

“Everything! See? Even now, you are confused by your egg-sac humors!”

Agnes nodded, and smiled, and walked a few steps away from the knight. Then, she took off in a run and shoved mightily with her inferior arms and pushed Sir Assface out the window. Everyone held their breaths, quite shocked. A few moments later, a great splash sounded, followed by an “Ew! It’s raining assholes!” from Squid.

“I’m drowning!” glubbed the knight.

Poot removed her pointy hat and handed it to Agnes. “While I admire your initiative, Wife” — she said, taking off her princess boots — “I must rescue him, or else my father will think another suitor of mine has leaped out the window voluntarily, and the suitor cemetery is quite full.”

The princess stood in the window and yanked off the rest of her princess dress. Hunky Monk-y remarked, “She’s like a Picasso! Kinda uneven, the bits in weird places, but interesting on the whole.”

With a, “Thanks!” Poot leapt into the moat. She swam to the collection of bubbles signifying the knight’s entry point, dove down, and yanked him upward toward the sky. With Squid’s help, she rustled the heavy idiot onto the shore. “Well, I have saved you, Sir Sav-a-Lot. That would be very ironic if it happened in a story.”

“I saw it coming a mile away,” said Squid with a sniff. “Hack.”

The bedraggled and be-dripping knight flopped onto the grass. “I know some ladies who really need saving,” Poot said. She took off Sav-a-Lot’s helmet and leaned in with a smile. “Have you met my sisters?”

And so Agnes and Poot had their portraits drawn by Hunky Monk-y’s talented appendage. Sir Sav-a-Lot spent the rest of his days annoying the shit out of Poot’s annoying sisters. None of the three here happy, ever or after.

The end.

Princess Poot’s nethers actually do need a rescue from next week’s “The Shittiest Princess and the Ouch! Crap! Noooooo! Day”!

Published by

Lucy Woodhull

Lucy Woodhull is a novelist, humorist, parodist, and all-around geek. Her new venture is THE SHITTIEST PRINCESS, a series of un-fair-y tales right here on Persephone. You can check out her sexy, fun romantic comedies at

4 thoughts on “The Shittiest Princess and the Discount Hero”

Leave a Reply