The Weary Prince
                                  Written by: Bill Blackolive

Once, before anyone in the British Isles could read or write, there was an Anglo-Saxon prince who was weary in his youth.

He had wide, beautiful eyes, tangled, glorious hair, and an aristocratic toss of chin, but he grew to be so weary that he did nothing all day but pet the animals.

His old man worried about the fair son, because the old man wanted to relive his own golden youth.

Old man, grumbled the young prince with an aristocratic toss of chin. All the young maidens are silly.

So, on the advice of his understanding mother, the young prince took three shiploads of his fellows to go pillage the North African coast.

He spoke to his fellows, I am very sensitive and Christ like, and am seeking a woman worthy of my beauty. Let there be commerce between ourselves and the next village we come to.

Practically speaking, there was not a great deal of commerce between the shiploads of Anglo-Saxons and the next village they came to, but there was much intimate communication wherein the Angle-Saxons received many gifts.

Before the young prince had grown quite too weary, he saw a delicate maiden dancing on the beach, all by herself, in the sun.

With an aristocratic toss of his chin, he spoke to her. Young maiden, I am a sad prince, weary in my youth, and you are the most beautiful delicate maiden I have ever seen in my life. Let there be commerce between us.

Sir, laughed the young maiden, whipping her skirts through the sea breeze. I am a gay young princess, and you would surely drive me weary. But come and let me comb your horrid hair.

The gay princess and the weary prince had a nice time with one another, not that they had a great deal in common, but that such nice things were done as the combing of hair, nice things like that.

The weary prince become not as weary as he had been in his youth, and the three shiploads of Angle-Saxons commented between wine, woman, and song, that surely the gay princess was the best things that had ever happened to their leader.

The gay princess often laughed that as fine and handsome as the prince was, she could not put up with him forever because he would drive her too weary, and so, when he insisted that she was the most beautiful delicate maiden he had ever seen, she always told him: Don't hand me that seaweed!

But the young prince could not take these words of hers seriously, because he had wide beautiful eyes, tangled, glorious hair, aristocracy in every powerful vein, was even kind to animals, was a sensitive, Christ-like devil, was a leader of men, kept enough tangles in his hair to satisfy even a maiden of her sunshine energy.

When the princess confided that she did not like Christ anyway, the prince told her to please be quiet and comb his tangles while he protected her from the other Angle-Saxons, and he became very demanding.

One day after several months of this sort of situation, the young princess slipped away, went to a secret cove where there was a very pretty beach, and she danced in the sun.

When the prince found her, he wearily threatened that if she ever did him such meanness, why, he would go pillaging the coast until he found himself another gay and delicate maiden worthy of his protection.

Don't hand me that seaweed, the gay princess smiled as she leaped through the salt spray. Now you sit down and be quiet while I comb your terrible hair. And besides, I think you should go find yourself another maiden worthy of your protection.

But yet, the gay princess did do more such meanness to the Angle-Saxon Prince who was so weary in his youth, and did so yet again, and again, until he threatened, that if it did happen ever, ever again, why, why then, he would burn down her village and go pillage all the rest of the North African coast.

Such an Anglo-Saxon threat annoyed the gay princess, and she told the weary prince that he must learn to read and write.

The weary prince said, why, of course I will, I will learn to read and write, because you are the most beautiful delicate maiden I have ever seen dance in my life, and so I must, I simply must learn to read and write, if only to please you, being that I need you with me, right here by my side, where I can always know you are safe, because I am so weary, and Christ knows, a delicate maiden such as yourself is never safe these days with all the illiterate Anglo-Saxon around.

Oh, seaweed! frowned the young princess. You are driving me weary.

Then, as the Anglo-Saxon prince so nobly proceeded to learn the lessons of reading and writing the princess gave him, he was done more meanness by his true love.

The weary prince could not so easily find the princess this time, and being of that particular blindness of passion which only the most intensely passionate may have, he had the village of his princess burned to the ground, hoping he would be able to find her soon as he got that confounded village out of the way.

But, alas, that was a mistake.

The weary prince never saw his princess after that, because all the villagers fled and he was not able to question them as to where she had hidden.

It was rumored that the gay princess was very angry and had fled with her people. So, the weary prince spent the rest of his life pillaging the North African sea coast in desperate search of his true love.