Source: Pixabay

The Real Story

She kissed the frog and turned him into a prince. At least that’s what she thought. Handsome and charming seemed inadequate adjectives to admire his chivalry. What was disgusting, metamorphosed into an irresistible diamond? He was an eye candy at whom one could stare without fluttering their eyes. He radiated with such a shine that it seemed as if he was a piece of a star that dropped right in front of me.

Even the sweets kept near garbage attunes some of its traits. You can't teach an old dog new tricks. Once he starts smelling and licking butts, he is done forever. It is hard to bring him back. My prince had stayed far too long in that shitty pond, far too long after being corrupted and perverted, and he was beyond repair. People sang to me about prophesy of frogs turning into princes and marrying the one who kisses the frog. But none of them ever mentioned what the fuck happens afterward. I kissed the frog and what I got was an asshole.

I am mind fucked. I don't know why I believed in these fairy tales. Fairy tales come with an asterisk(*). These princes might be defective or even turn out to be a douche bag. It's just a marketing gimmick. The story behind the scene is that a few unworthy princes who do not manage to get brides finally resort to this business of turning into a frog. Which of course is offered by bitchy witches who turn them into a fucking toad. This plot of a frogs turning into a princes has been over hyped and is a really dirty trick. I know few girls who kiss every frog they meet. How idiotic!

Anyways, their stories afterward are messy. These already spoiled princes convert and live in dirty ponds, eating whatever crawls. Sometimes I feel pukish even when he yawns. His mouth stinks, burning my nostrils. His experience of places he stayed are bizarre and filthy. These gleaming princes finally starts withering off. They miss the dirt, and they want to croak. And I feel that’s where they actually belong, in that shitty pond.

I am still finding ways to get rid of him. He picks his nose. He doesn't bathe until I throw a bucket of water on him. I once caught him leaping and eating a fly. We looked into each other's eyes, I was grossed, but he smiled and said 'old habits.' I am sick and tired of him. I am looking for a curse or potion, whatever it may be. I don't care if his mouth stinks. I will kiss him again if that kiss can turn him back to fucking frog.

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