Today in one of the ETSY forums today a fellow etsy seller WolfLodge, wrote a story about me!
Here it is...
Ok, the Story of How Majestyinc got her start:
Once upon a time
there was a kind Etsy Queen named Her Royal Majesty MajestyInc. All of
the loyal Etsy subjects loved her & worshipped the forums she wrote
on. After all, with a name like that, how could she NOT be all
Majestical & glorious & lovely & a hit at parties? They
certainly held her in high EtsySteem!
On one particularly
regular day, all the Etsyinians were about their business, many heading
to the castle market for scones & yarn & craft supplies, for
all the members of this Queendom were crafty & talented, and many
were quite good looking.
At the front of the market stood a
rickety old cart sticking out into the street. A tired old cross-eyed
donkey stood sadly, still strapped to the cart, with oft-retied reins
resting on his back. His eyes were red & rheumy, his hooves cracked
& scraped by years clip-clopping down cobblestoned streets,
dragging the old fart (Oops, I mean CART) behind.
The crowd
scarcely noticed the old fart, hunched down behind the cart, which was
heaped with plain, uninteresting & non-financially viable, well,
crap.
A murmur arose from the crowd, a whisper growing to a
dull roar, then to shouts & exclamations of joy & excitement:
the Queen is coming! The Queen is coming! It’s really her, Her Royal
majesty Majestyinc! OOOOOOoo, the anticipaaaaation! The castle market
customers crowded close to the walls, craving a comfortable cushion
from which to cast their collective peepers upon the coming cavalcade
of Queenly camaraderie. (Whew!)
Several of the shoppers shoved
against the poor old donkey, elbowing him in his sticky-out ribs just
as the Queen’s carriage came clattering around the corner. Her Royal
Majesty MajestyInc. Herself was leaning regally out of the carriage,
waving sweetly at the crowd. Just then the final elbow-installer jolted
against the poor old donkey ribs, & the little fartcart dragger
could take no more. Hee-hawing his poor little heart out, he lurched
forward to free his ribs from elbowed tyranny. The leaning citizens
leapt out of the way, and several fell into the road, causing Her Royal
Majesty MajestyInc’s driver to swerve away from the nearly roadkilled
constituency.
Poor little donkey bolted out just as Her Royal
Majesty MajestyInc’s carriage veered, & there ensued what can only
be described as a calamitously crunchy crash! The regal person of Her
Royal Majesty MajestyInc soared right out of her carriage, landing with
a quite prim & proper thump upon the carts contents of plain,
uninteresting & non-financially viable, well, crap. Her driver
brought Her Royal Majesty MajestyInc’s team of cutely caparisoned
Clydesdales to a cloppity halt just past the accident scene. Several
Etsy artisans immediately knitted orange traffic cones to mark off the
site.
“Your Royal Majesty MajestyInc!” the crowd screamed,
“are you alright?” Her Royal Majesty MajestyInc blinked her baby blues,
tossed her golden locks out of her face, & rubbed her rump
gingerly. “I seem to be whole & hale & hearty,” she exclaimed,
but what are all these beautiful treasures that softened my fall?” The
crowd immediately organized a search party & formed a Street Team
to locate said treasures, not noting that Her Royal Majesty MajestyInc
was enraptured by the plain, uninteresting & non-financially
viable, well, crap surrounding her regal posterior.
The owner
of the fart cart tumbled to his feet, brushed off his ragged tunic,
& bowed his way to his Queen catching cart. “They are but my meager
wares”, he mumbled, bowing low, “ I am honored that they saved your
royal arse!” The crown gasped; the driver bristled: the Queen giggled.
“That they did, good merchant, that they did, and exceeding well!”
“Tell me, what is it, & where did you find them?” she asked,
running her alabaster pinkies over the heaps. “Tis known as Vi-nyl, my
Queen, from the magical land of Dumpsteria.” “Wonderful!” gushed Her
Royal Majesty MajestyInc, “Come, we will bear you to the palace, where
you will dine, & your poor little donkey will rest & be
groomed, & I will train my Royal Elvish artisans to weave wonders
of Vi-nyl. Rejoice, from this day forward, you shall be known as Her
Royal Majesty MajestyInc’s Royal Purveyor Of Plain, Uninteresting &
Non-Financially Viable, Well, Crap.” Tell me, sir, what is thy name?”
“Effluvius, my Queen” he stated, with a flourish & a bow (which
incidentally caused the 1st 2 rows of onlookers to keel over).
The
rest of the conscious crowd roared in joy, “Hail, Effluvius! Hail
Effluvius! Hail Her Royal Majesty MajestyInc! And Her Royal Majesty
MajestyInc’s Esty shop was filled to overflow with treasures of Vi-nyl,
and they lived happily ever after
Da end.
WolfLodge, BS'er to the Crown
And it's totally awesome and totally made my day! No one's ever written a story for me before, and I love the aletteration and how my Queendome is full of crafty & talented people, and many
were quite good looking. If only there were good looking crafty guys around!
I think that Wolflodge should start selling personalized stories as well as jewelry.....
