Modern Fairy Tale

Forward and Acknowledgements: While the following story is purely fictional, resemblance to actual events may not be coincidental. My coauthor developed much of the story herein and graciously allowed me to post it in the space below.

And now our feature presentation...

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away lived a lonely princess who dwelled in the Land of Previously Owned Clothing. The princess was cursed with an overactive olfactory sense, and no man ever smelled quite good enough to become her prince (and no frog was ever in danger of being kissed by her). Each day she wandered from thrift shop to dusty thrift shop hoping to sniff out her true love amid the stacks of second-hand sweaters.

In this land of cast-off cardigans also lived a lonely young librarian, whose heart was warmed by cheap hot dogs, which in turn were warmed by cheap microwaves. So enamored was he by these plump pork products that he convinced himself they were the missing ingredient in the fabled Love Potion Number Nine, the key to winning the princess’s heart. He spent his days swimming with the microfiche in the library’s archives, sleuthing the secret for this wonder scent, certain that 1970s magazines held the answers he sought. He spent his nights dreaming of the beautiful princess in her hand-me-down haven.

One day the young librarian found the unfinished formula sandwiched between a knitting pattern for legwarmers and an interview with Sonny and Cher. With his newfound knowledge, he bolted out of the archive room and hid behind the card catalog to begin brewing a batch of the fabled formula. Forfeiting a frankfurter fit for a future lunch, he plopped the plump pork product into the potion, thereby creating the most aromatic love elixir the world had ever known. Alas, as fate would have it, the discovery did not come without a cost. The fine print of the recipe foretold of myriad mystical mishaps that our hero would soon encounter.

As morning melted into midday, our hopeful hero, bathed in a bouquet of sorcery and sausage, headed for the gently used garment district. He searched high and low for the princess, but to no avail. He never set eyes upon her, although, unbeknownst to our hero, the princess had been at the very first store he entered, where she sniffed his scrumptious scent and tried to follow it to its source. Alas, she could not trace the scent, and our hapless hero departed. Deflated, he returned to his library to console himself with a belated breakfast of bratwurst.

Our lovely, lonely princess, however, would not quickly become quiescent in her quest to find the scent. In a haze of happiness, she followed her nose into the library, knowing that her true love must be nearby. She quickly found herself carousing with the card catalog. Dazed and confused, she stumbled out of the library and its overpowering odor, seeking refuge in Plato’s Closet, a prominent thrift store next door.

Once again, among the dusty racks of rags, she began to regain her composure and, to her dismay, she discovered that she had lost all directional olfactory capabilities. Heart wrenched at the thought of never being able to sniff out her true love’s identity, she ran straight for the department store perfume counter across the street, in order to determine the extent of her disability. In her panic to get to there, she ran headlong into the young librarian who had spied her in the library and followed her. Unfortunately she could not recognize that the smell that was driving her mad was his, and she continued across the street. Heartbroken at not being identified, the young librarian headed off to console himself with a few fifty cent hot dogs at IKEA. Adding insult to injury, the lonely princess spent the rest of the day sniffing perfumes that she could not smell.

At the end of the day, heartbroken and destitute, she returned to the library and searched again near the card catalog, in one last effort to identify the scent of her lost love. There, tucked under a poster describing the Dewey Decimal system, sat a flattened paper cup that held the last few drops of the secret potion. Having already drowned the library’s supply of facial tissues with her deluge of tears, the princess clutched the gently used cup and drew it to her face, wiping her eyes, nose and mouth with it. She staggered to a nearby fountain, where she cupped her hands and drew water from the fountain’s reservoir to her mouth, intending to counter the effects of dehydration. As she drank, the fountain’s water mixed with trace amounts of potion on her face. Much to the chagrin of nearby library patrons, she shrieked as the potion coursed through her body and immediately began taking effect. Within moments, the potion blinded her. Rushing from behind the check-out counter to the sound of his true love’s distress, our young librarian hero arrived just in time to catch the blind princess before she hit the floor.

Epilogue: The young librarian and the princess married and lived happily ever after in the Land of Overused Outfits, which soon became famous for its spicy cuisine and extensive library of audio recordings for the blind. Our astute readers will note that the name of newlywed couples’ kingdom of residence does not match the name of the kingdom from whence the princess came. Insightful readers may speculate that we’re leaving open the possibility for a sequel.

We offer you three morals to close out our modern fairy tale:

Moral #1: Love is blind.

Moral #2: The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

Moral #3: Flattery, like perfume, should be smelled, not swallowed.