Flash fiction: Damsel in Distress

- In response to flashxer prompt: "He was a real cliche. Top of the heap. Strong as steel, a go getter who let no grass grow under his feet, an overachiever who kept his nose to the grindstone and never looked a gift horse in the mouth."


He fought his way past the thorny briars and slew the ferocious dragon—all without getting a spot on his gleaming armor. He climbed to the highest room in the highest tower, took off his helmet, and woke the sleeping princess with a gentle (but manly) kiss.

She snapped awake. "ARRRRRRRRRRRGH! Can't anyone get any rest around here?!"

"But... but... Weren't you a damsel in distress?"

"A damsel in _STRESS._ Which is why I was resting, until you very rudely came along and woke me up."

"I'm sorry! It's just that I saw a dragon, and dragons usually guard beautiful princesses and..."

"What did you do to my dragon?!" She ran to the window and saw the bloody carcass. "Pookie! You killed Pookie! Don't you know how hard it is to raise dragons? Every time I manage to train one to sit and beg, some dumb oaf comes along and kills it!"

"I'm sorry—I really am—forgive my—"

"And you chopped down my rose garden!"

"I'm really sorry about that, but I had to rescue—"

"I have HAD it with people who ASSUME that princesses need RESCUING more than they need their BEAUTY SLEEP! OUT!" She bashed him with a pillow. "OUT! I don't want to see you ever again!"

"Okay! I'm sorry!" He backed down the flight of stairs, cowering behind his shield as the princess pillow-whacked him all the way to the ground floor.

"AND STAY OUT!" she yelled as he galloped off into the sunset. She bolted the door, trudged upstairs, and started writing a letter.

Dear Dragons-R-Us...

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