Once upon a time, not so very long ago, and once again in the Land of Washinglittle, there lived a Prince. Not the Dark Prince, oh no, for he had long since exchanged the title of Prince for King, and was ruling quite happily with his Apothecary bride. No, this Prince was the Prince Curly-locks, though he no longer had curly-locks to speak of -a minor accident with a Molotov Cocktail in demolitions class having necessitated their removal.

But that too had occurred a few years ago, indeed the good Prince Curly-locks was now a man at the age of thirty-two, and known far and wide for being the best Demolitions Expert in this land or any other, and indeed it was on one of these working expeditions that he met his bride.

It was a balmy day in September, and he had rather successfully just brought an entire hotel complex to the ground in a nice little pile of wreckage, when he overheard the soft sounds of a guitar and noticed a very pretty brunette a few years his junior sitting on a bench watching him, her fingers plying the metal strings in a medley that seemed awfully familiar.

And so it should, for the very pretty girl was in fact a Princess of that particular realm, and one to whom he had been introduced a few times before, when he was young, before he had even gone secondary schooling.

It had been such a long time and such was the dust in his eyes that he did not recognise her and so unaware that they had previously met, he escorted her down the street for a meal and some dancing, and they had such a great time that they woke up the next morning well and truly married. (It being a Vegas kind of land.)

Now, at this point in the story, things could have gone from good to worse, but this is a happily-ever-after tale, and so it didn't. For in the clear morning light he at once recognised the girl as the one and only Princess Staccato Mambo (formerly Princess Catherine Temperance Hodgins, the daughter of King Jack of Bugs, Dirt, and Slime and the Queen Angela, herself daughter of the King of Rock) and was overjoyed, for he had always enjoyed her company though she was much younger than he was when last he saw her, (and still was, though being her mothers daughter she rightly reasoned that after the age of eighteen, and she happened to be twenty, that age didn't really matter so much as temperament). The Princess Staccato was also pleased, for she had long had a crush on the handsome and dimpled Prince Curly-locks (though she didn't say that she had recognised him instantly, being cunning AND wise) and declared if he would just get a tattoo of her grandfather on his right arm and one of her father on his left, there would be no royal displeasure on the part of her family to the match.

Prince Curly-locks agreed, not wishing for anyone to go Texan on his person, and being uneasy around the types of bugs his father in law favoured, and often loaned to his step-mother for de-fleshing purposes. And so, once tattooed appropriately, they presented themselves at the Palace of Cantilever, and were sent home to the land of Washinglittle to spread the good news.

And yes, it was happily-ever-after, for playing her music in accompaniment to his demolitions brought them both great fame and happiness, and they both enjoyed that there was never any peace at their house, and lived to a ripe old age, producing many children with odd names and though there was never an outbuilding standing more than two years on any location of their property, it brought the family closer to together, for the good Prince Alpha-Numeric had grown out of flushing facilities long past, and was now pursuing a Doctorate in Engineering and enjoyed trying to build things that could not be bombed.

So ends the tale of Prince Curly-locks, and may you have a good night!