Weapon Girl

Once upon a time (a really boring opening) there lived a girl with brown hair, brown eyes and brown skin. She wasn’t a princess, she wasn’t a pauper, she had no abnormal sleeping patterns in which one would sleep for a century (that’s stretching nap time a little, isn’t it?), her feet were too big to fit into hazardous glass shoes, she had legs instead of a fish tail, she wasn’t two inches tall, her hair was of a reasonable length, she was only mildly fond of apples and didn’t fit into any “fairytale girl stereotype” that people of today may or may not have.

She really loved weapons and explosions, having a special affinity for dynamite. For this reason she was called Weapon Girl, although her real name was Sue.

When she was twenty-one, she was invited to a giant party at some pretty boy’s castle. She shrugged and decided to go; she wasn’t going to let the teenagers have all the fun.

She got dressed in a bearskin cape and a leather suit (she had shot the bear herself when she was twelve) and wondered whether she should take her warhorse or her chariot.

Suddenly there was a flash of really sparkly light. A fairy dressed in a pathetically pink dress appeared and smiled a creepy smile.

“You have no dilemma, Weapon Girl, for I am your fairy godmother! Just bring me a cucumber and six hamsters and I’ll turn them into a gorgeous gold-gilded coach and six white horses.”

Weapon Girl drew back in disgust and looked gown at her tough-girl apparel.

“Dude, I don’t think I’m dressed to suit a ‘gorgeous gold-gilded coach’”, she drawled mockingly. “I ain’t going in any sissy vehicle, anyway. And what a waste of a perfectly good cucumber! No thanks! I think I’ll just go on my chariot.”

“Well, I never!” The fairy was shocked. She usually got tearful and hysterical gratitude.

“You never what?” Weapon Girl retorted.

The Annoying Pink Fairy disappeared in a flash of indignant pink smoke and Weapon Girl shrugged and began preparing her chariot.

“Sue, darling!” Weapon Girl’s mother (who was alive and well, as was her father, in case you’re about to ask) came racing into the stables.

“Mum, you know I hate it when you call me that.”

“Dear, why don’t you wear the nice dress I bought you?” her mother asked, holding up the offending garment.

Weapon Girl grimaced at the ribbons, frills and that accursed colour… pink. “Mum, I love you very much, but wearing that… thing wouldn’t be good for my reputation.”

Weapon Girl’s mum smiled slyly. “The boys will like it.”

Weapon Girl wanted to throw up. “Never mind, Mum. I’m not going to flirt with guys. I’m going to drink beer and play darts.”

Her mum sighed. “Why can’t you be like other girls?”

Weapon Girl rolled her eyes. “Because I have brown hair, brown eyes and brown skin. I’m not beautiful, I’m not a princess, I’m not a pauper, I have no abnormal sleeping patterns in which I would sleep for a century, my feet are too big to fit into hazardous glass shoes, I have legs instead of a fish tail, I’m not two inches tall, my hair is of a reasonable length, I’m only mildly fond of apples and therefore don’t fit into any “fairytale girl stereotype” that people of today may or may not have.”

Weapon Girl’s mum blinked. “Wow, you really thought this through, didn’t you?” She shrugged. “Okay, then. Out with the dress.”

Weapon Girl grinned. “Thanks, Mum,” she said before she grabbed a small store of dynamite and leapt into her chariot, setting her two horses at a wild gallop. “Now, let’s see if I can get to Prince Pretty Boy’s castle on time.”