155 – THE ROYAL RUNAWAYS 1

 Having been assured by Madonna that the royal runaways were devoid of pretense, Lance Lear, son of Stephen, not Lance, the boy who would be King, decided to see if they, collectively or singularly, had a sense of humour.

So, when the Duke and Duchess of Sussex arrived, precisely on time, Lance curtseyed when Madonna introduced them at the doorway. The Duke and Duchess, who were reeking of weed, took it in the spirit they assumed was intended. Meghan laughed, “Oh, you Americans! You’re so ignorant of royal protocol.”

“Not at all, not at all,” chucked Harry, returning Lance’s curtsy. Meghan joined the game by bowing, first to Madonna, then to Lance, and lastly to her husband. Madonna did the same, and everything was off to a good start.

Satisfied that the royal runaways were, indeed, playful, not pretentious, Lance asked, “So, how do I address you? What do I call you? The King and Queen, or the Prince and Princess, of Blighty?”

Harry deferred to his wife, who laughed, and answered, “If you do, I’ll have you thrown in the Tower! And, following a sham trial before her court, with a wave her royal hand, Granny will say, ‘Off with his head!’”

Playing along, Lance played the fool, and asked, “Do you still do that?”

“Sadly, no,” said the Duke. “If it were still so, the heads of every paparazzi in the Kingdom would be mounted along the Tower Bridge.”

Intervening, before her husband started spewing his disdain for the paparazzi, Meghan enlightened the commoner, “Actually, our official titles are the Duke and Duchess of Sussex. But, good God, we’ve had enough of that.”

“The Duke and Duchess of Success,” Lance chuckled. “It has a nice ring. There’s some a Seussian fun to be had with that:

The Duchess of Success
was attired to impress
But the Duke of Success
Well, his costume was a mess

You can’t wear that
Cried the Duchess of Success
That’s your grandmother’s hat
And it clashes with my dress

Well, wear another dress
Laughed the Duke of Success
‘cause you shan’t wear that
for it makes you look… a brat

Grinning, the Duchess said, “Nice save, Lance. I thought for sure you were gonna say fat!”

“He did it on purpose, I assure you,” Madonna assured the Duchess. “The boy likes mischief, and he has a way with words.”

“You’re your father’s son,” the Duke said, smiling at Lance.

“I’m my father’s bastard son,” Lance corrected, with a wink to Madonna.

The royal runaways fell silent over the awkward declaration, so Madonna winked back at the boy, and said, “A story for another day.” With her eye still on Lance, she said, “I think Harry and Meghan would be happy if you called them Harry and Meghan.”

The so far charming couple nodded their agreement. Then Madonna proved that, like her current boy toy’s bastard son, she too liked to make mischief, by adding, “Although I have it, from a reliable source, that they call each other something a little more romantic.”

Just a little aghast, and totally surprised, Harry looked at Meghan, and asked, “You told her?”

The Duchess put on a feigned frown, shrugged and answered, “C’mon, cut me some slack, Jack. I was day drunk. And Madge has a way of getting shit out of everyone.”

“So I’ve heard,” Harry grinned. Pointing at the pop star, he said, “You’d make a great tabloid hack.”

“It’s true, I do! It’s true, I would. But I’d have made a great nun, too!” Madge exclaimed. She looked at Harry and added, “But I only got the names out of her, not the story behind them.”

Once again, husband looked at wife, who said, “Oh, go on. It’s a beautiful story. And it’s not as if Madonna’s gonna run to the tabloids, and squeal.”

Harry looked at Meghan, once again, and once again, she said, “Oh, go on.”

“Okay,” said the Duke. “It is a good story. A few weeks back, I came down the stairs, where I saw Beebee playing a video game. As soon as she saw me, she stopped playing her game, and stared at me. She was looking thoroughly enchanting … and thoroughly enchanted. Then she uttered three magic words… ‘Husband shaped bunny!’”

“Oh… my… God! That’s so adorable,” Madonna gasped.

“Tell me about it,” Harry agreed. “I swear, I’ve never felt so much love in my life. Those three little words stopped me dead in my tracks. They hit me like a 40 foot wave of cream and honey, which drove me backwards, into a cotton candy forest, where everything stuck to me, and it all felt, smelled, and tasted like love.”

“Oh… my… God! That’s so adorable!” Madonna repeated, as the royal runaways made koogley eyes at each other.

“That’s some mighty impressive word work,” said the writer. “Can you repeat it? So I can steal it, I mean.”

“That’s very flattering, Lance,” said Harry. “Sure, you can steal it. God knows my family has been stealing everything we have been able to get our thieving, bloody hands on for as long as anyone can remember. Maybe you can work it into the Seussian story you started, somehow.”

“Looking at his adoring wife, Harry said it again,  “’Husband shaped bunny!’ Those three little words stopped me dead in my tracks. They hit me like a 40 foot wave of cream and honey, which drove me backwards, into a cotton candy forest, where everything stuck to me, and it all felt, smelled, and tasted like love.”

“Fantastic!” said Lance, clapping. “Bravo, brave wordsmith. So, she calls you Husband Shaped Bunny, but what do you call her? Wife Shaped Bunny?”

Harry deferred to his wife. “No. Ever since that day, ever since that moment, I have called Harry my little red rabbit.”

“And I have called Meghan my little black bunny!”

And with that, the Duchess of Success bunny hopped ove to the Duke of Success, and plopped herself in his lap, “Oh, I love you!”

“Oh, I love you.”

“I love you, and you, and you, and only you, I really do, I do, I do.”

“It is true, my little Beebee Baboo, and I love you, and you, and all of you, and everything about you.”

And before you knew it, they were playing tonsil hockey, running their hands through each other’s hair.

The little Black Bunny straddled the Red Rabbit, and started riding him, both of them completely lost in the moment.

Madonna looked at Lance, and couldn’t help but notice that the boy was rising to the occasion. Biting her lip, she managed to resist the temptation to grab him by the hair, throw him to the floor, and have her way with him. Turning her attention back to the royal runaways, who were starting to grunt and groan, Madonna said, “Yo!” loudly enough to get their attention. “I am certainly not averse to watching two beautiful people make love, but you’re welcome to use the bedroom, if you’d prefer some privacy.”

Black Bunny smiled at Madge, and winked. Then she smiled at her little Red Rabbit, took him by the hand, and disappeared with him into the bedroom.

156 – CONSCRIPTING CROSBY 1

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