His Royal Anus


A New Low for His Royal Highness

Hours After Returning from Africa,
Edward Dumps Lauren Mallory Via Proxy

Time zone change be damned. First on Prince Edward’s agenda upon return from his “humanitarian mission” wasn’t sleeping off his jetlag—it was losing his on-again, off-again main squeeze. Though Sourly Mallory had no comment for our reporter, sources close to her tell us the first thing His Royal Highness did upon his return to The Westerlands was to summon her to his apartment. To add insult to injury, he was nowhere to be found—one of his bodyguards broke up with her on his behalf!

The Prince’s camp tells a different story. A Palace insider told us: “It was an unfortunate series of events. When His Royal Highness issued the invitation, he had every intention of being there. Unfortunately, not even a prince has power over flight delays.”

Given the Palace’s penchant for euphemisms, we’re guessing that means he got caught carrying enough benzos to tranquilize an elephant. Hey, it wouldn’t be the first time. We all know “humanitarian mission” is Palace-speak for detox.

In case His Royal Highness happens to be reading this, a point of clarification: Step Eight requires you to make amends to the people you’ve harmed, not add to your list of misdeeds. Maybe your next “humanitarian mission” will be more effective.

COMMENTS (showing 5 of 768)

Palace Alice

I totally saw that coming.

hrh princess edward

good for him. she was trashy anyway

AA Saved Me

if the Prince does have a drug problem, he deserves compassion, not mockery. addiction is a serious disease

Lady in Waiting

I’d still do him.

Heidi buzzes me and, with exaggerated enthusiasm, tells me I have a visitor. There’s thirty feet and a closed door between us, but I feel her snark regardless. Somehow, I just know.

“From the Palace, right? Tell His Royal Vomitous whatever it is, it can wait until later.”

“Relax. It’s a palace official with a delivery for you.”

Assuming whatever he’s delivering isn’t third in line for the throne, I think I can handle it.

“Okay. Sign for it, and I’ll come out to get it in a few minutes.”

“That’s the thing,” she says. “He says it’s of grave importance, and The Prince gave him specific instructions to place it in your hands and your hands only.”

His Royal Audacity knows no bounds.

“Just making sure I understand this correctly,” I say. “Whatever it is, it’s important enough to require some of my time but not important enough to require any of his?”

“Pretty much.”

“Do you think they would execute me for regicide if I murdered the person third in line for the throne?”

She laughs. “Should I ask? Because I bet this guy would know.”

“Uh, no.” I flatten my palms against the top of my desk and take a deep breath—can’t have the Royal errand boy reporting back to His Royal Laziness that I was anything other than calm and collected. “Go ahead; send him in.”

The Royal Emissary enters my office carrying a large arrangement of purple flowers, expertly arranged in an amethyst crystal vase. As he gets closer, I notice they’re tied with a plum velvet ribbon.

Purple is my favorite color, and I wonder if maybe this is on purpose—that His Royal Vomitous cared enough to ask Esme what I liked. The idea makes me uncomfortable. I didn’t consider his invitation to the palace this evening to be indicative of romantic interest on his part. If I’d thought there was any chance those were his intentions, I wouldn’t have accepted. Then I remember what else purple is—the color of royalty—and I think that’s the more likely reason for his selection. Regardless, as floral arrangements go, this one is stunning. It’s also a surprisingly nice gesture, even if it does nothing to alter my opinion of him.

I gesture to a table across from my desk. “Right there is good; thank you.”

“There’s one other thing.” He reaches into his bag and retrieves a thick manila envelope. “His Highness requests that you read the enclosed and sign where appropriate. Should you have any questions, my contact information is on the first page. No need to courier it back—just to be sure to bring it with you when you come to the Palace this evening.”

I open the envelope and peek inside. “A non-disclosure agreement?”

It’s comical and more than a little ironic. Shouldn’t he have taken care of this before he puked on me?

“It’s all very standard, I assure you,” he says.

“Oh, I’ve no doubt it is.” I smile sweetly. “I’ll be sure to give it the attention it deserves.”

In truth, I don’t give it any attention at all—at least, not until I’m in the car on the way to the Palace. I know Esme signed one of these when she started dating Carlisle and, though I don’t consider this a date, I’m pragmatic enough to understand why he would feel as if he needed to take these kind of precautions—I mean, if you’re going to have your bodyguard end your relationships for you, you kind of need to cover your ass. Besides, my father requires non-disclosure agreements of our employees; it would be hypocritical of me to get my panties in a bunch because His Royal Vomitous asks it of me.

I dump the envelope out onto my lap. On top of the non-disclosure agreement is a smaller envelope, this one made of fine linen stationery. The enclosed sheet is engraved with a large E in fancy script, topped with a crown. I roll my eyes—God forbid I forget I’m communicating with royalty!



I truly hope you aren’t offended. I’ve learned that when I make new acquaintances, I have to take some precautions—I’m sure you understand. My Private Secretary is available to answer any questions document-specific questions you may have. Please know that though I don’t believe this is necessary in your case, it is, however, standard procedure.

Looking forward to this evening,


To be honest, the non-disclosure agreement is the first thing he’s done in the past twenty-four hours that hasn’t offended me. I start reading. It’s all pretty standard until I get about halfway down the page.

The term “proprietary information” means any and all information, in any form, including but not limited to that disclosed to the recipient via verbal exchanges, written communication, and intimate encounters. The term “intimate encounter” refers to any physical contact between His Royal Highness and the recipient, clothed or otherwise, including but not limited to manual stimulation, fellatio, cunniligus, vaginal intercourse, and anal intercourse. Proprietary information shall also include any observations made by the recipient, including but not limited to opinions on and impressions of His Royal Highness’s sexual preferences, abilities, and genitalia.

At first I’m livid. Then I notice His Royal Anus is not mentioned anywhere in the non-disclosure agreement. I think I know exactly where I’m going to shove it.

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  1. on 25 Jun 2012 at 2:22 amRoselover24

    LOVE IT I have read the whole thing so far and I am so excited to be reading another story of yours Thanks for sharing