I Started a Joke

Chapter 5

"Frosty, would you like some more tea?" I asked nicely in my newly perfected speech pattern. It took some time and extreme effort but I've managed to return to sounding as eloquent as I was before. It takes real dedication to sound as classy and intelligent as me at my age.

I held my white and pink teapot filled juice out to my father's personal henchman. Frost and I are seated at my tea table using my very real and very expensive tea set for a late night snack session. I had dinner a while ago with Mama and Papa before they left out for a date night. Mama told me they are going to be out real late tonight settling some turf dispute. She has no sense of filter, Mama tells me anything I want to know if I give her my highly-effective puppy dog eyes. Those eyes work on her all the time. I haven't used them for their real purpose yet, I've been hesitant to broach the subject of the baby clothes with Mama. I recall how unhinged the topic made her. I'd hate to bring up bad memories for her but I do want to know what happened to my sibling or siblings if the three onsies are anything to go by in Papa's collection of items. I'll respect her wishes and hold off asking, for now.

"No." Frosty grunted out. His large figure is hunched over trying to fit into the space made for him at the table. He looks extremely out of place in his neat black suit, pressed up to my overly girly table. Frosty isn't the only one dinning with me for dessert, though he is the only live one. The other guests are all custom-made stuffed animals. I took the time to invite my favorite friends. I have spots set out for batsy, penguin, scarecrow, and two spots for my Joker and HQ replicas. My batsy toy has its eyes gouged out and replaced with buttons. The Joker and HQ toys look more like the comic book versions of the two. Batsy, Joker, and HQ are my absolute favorite dolls. I wanted Frosty to dress up so he could blend in with my macabre-styled tea party, but he refused. Party pooper.

"No what?" I questioned. I took a dainty sip from my cup, eyeing Frosty over the brim of the china.

"No thank you Princess Lucy."

I can hear him grinding his teeth.

HaHaHaHaHa.

This is so funnnnnnn.

"Manners are important Frosty." I poured myself another cup of juice. I've come to hate milk after being weened off Mama's breast milk. My mouth is dry after eating seven chocolate chip cookies. I offered some to Frosty as a good host should. Frosty however, is a smart man. He declined my offer in favor of letting me have the treats all to myself.

He can be real stubborn around me most of the time. I've made countless attempts to make him smile or laugh but he's remained stone-faced in my presence. His obstinance only encourages me to mess with him more, it makes each one of my new games all the more entertaining.

"Papa wouldn't be happy if he knew you were being rude to me. Or refused to play with me." I nonchalantly said.

Frosty didn't flinch from my nonverbal threat. He stayed neutral while his eyes shot daggers at me. Frosty raised his delicate cup to me, conceding the round to me. He drank the juice.

I gleefully clapped, showing him I was pleased.

Atta a boy! Submit to your Princess.

Frosty should babysit more often. He is a great toy to screw with. I love how he can be angry but controlled at the same time. Nothing is funnier than an emasculated man drinking juice out a teacup. These moments with Frost make me feel so giddy. No wonder Papa likes messing with people so much, it is simply thrilling being in control like this.

"Isn't it getting close to your bedtime...Princess?" Frosty lowered his cup, pointedly staring at my crib.

Looking at that crib has recently started to irk me. I'm three going on four, I don't need that cot anymore. Mama has ignored my requests for an actual bed, preferring to keep me in the crib or fear that I'll roll off the bed and crack my skull. Normally I don't mind her babying tactics but this is trying my patience. I know she wants me to remain a baby forever but it ain't happening sista, biology is seeing to that. I'm ready for a real bed. I've taken to nonviolently protesting the crib by climbing out of it at night and sleeping ont he floor surrounded by plush toys and blankets.