I live in a castle owned by some pompous prince that liked to party all night. Some might say I lived an easy life, all my needs taken care of by the maids, the prince usually not around and thus giving me a lot of freedom, and the castle itself is nice. Clean and comfortable, not much can be asked for more. But of course, there is something that I craved.
I wanted someone to love, I wished for a partner
I prayed until I fell asleep for years. In this regal quarter, I was the only one made without a counterpart. Tragic.
There are the champagne glasses that always move in pairs. the long legs made them look good in every dress.
Their bubbly personality has its own charm, especially when you get to know them.
Then there is the group of white porcelain plates. There are dozens of them so judging them because of one is kind of rude. But all of them are assholes.
They are snobs, they are highly pretentious for someone whose daily needs depended on maids. They never work a day in their sad, annoying life.
I have met some of them, and i hated every encounter I had with them. Unbearable.
One of the many sad encounters I had ended in some verbal assault, me taking and slinging some curse word and I may or may not say something rude about their family.
Oh well, they deserved every word.
"Good morning, Mr. Candle Holder. How are you today?" Said the ever lovely Mrs. Fork. One of the nicest beings in this castle.
My chit-chat with her usually happens in the morning, before the designated breakfast time. All of us had to meet in the dining room, after all.
"Oh my, the night was horrible, Mr. Candle Holder. I had trouble sleeping and keeping Mr. Knife calm, he hated thunder and loud noises" said Mrs. Fork with a soft and tender voice. It was beautiful, one can listen to her ramble about anything. I definitely can.
Mrs. Fork and Mr. Knife are one interesting couple. They may not seem to be compatible with each other, but they sure do work hard to be compatible with each other. Mrs. Fork is one elegant lady, dignified in every way. Her acts, her manners.
Mr. Knife may seem brash, but he is an honest, hardworking man. His wording and vocabulary simple, he goes straight to the point, sometimes slipping in a few expletives, but he is dependable.
The beautiful, slender Mrs. Fork and the crude-looking, intimidating Mr. Knife sometimes inevitably fight, but they do so with decency. It was textbook argumentation, everyone should do it the same way.
"Hey, Candle Holder, my wife said something funny about me again? She had this horrible habit of oversharing, and sometimes straight up telling lies just to get a reaction" said Mr. Knife with visible irritation.
"Probably" I answered casually.
Mr. Knife sometimes can take a joke pretty well, but you never knew what you were going to get. One time he headbutted someone for saying how gross he looks. It was right after dinner, no one had the time to clean up so the comment was totally unnecessary.
"Very funny" grumbled Mr. Knife as he set off to find another victim to interrogate.
Must be fun having someone to talk to with as you fall asleep, holding each other in the night.
But my assumption was quickly rebuffed as I met and chatted with Mrs. Teapot, the single mother of 5 problem-children. Saying all of them as problem-children may be harsh, but Mrs. Teapot seems to agree with me and did not bother correcting me.
Her round and muscly body oozes an intimidating aura, like a heavyweight boxer ready to strike a knockout punch any seconds. Her children know this.
Her handle shaped like a rabbit ear, her lid round and majestic with a matching little hat on top.
The spout itself is long and curved, one could see the resemblance between this and an elephant's trunk. However it is as delicate as an elephant trunk.
"[redacted]! Get back here! [redacted #2] Finish your breakfast!" The tough Mrs. Teapot yelled as she ordered her bunch of misfits-called-children.
"Yes ma'am!"
"Okay mother"
"Mom, [redacted #3] is bothering me!"
Chaos is the norm around Mrs. Teapot and her children, everyday and every time.
"Good morning ma'am, busy as ever I see?" I asked her with my best effort of making small talk.
"Oh, Mr. Candle Holder. Not really, not really. This is one of the calmer days. They are quite obedient this morning." Replied Mrs. Teapot without breaking eye-contact with her children.
She watched them like hawks, picking up any potential trouble and addressing them thoroughly, with force if necessary.
What a scary and at the same time ideal mother figure. Having a partner like her might be troublesome, but she is really capable as a mother.
Those are some of my selfish insight about her.
My search for a compatible partner continued, it was getting more and more desperate. Some helpful locals tried to match me with their daughter or some long-distanced family of some sorts. I refused of course.
Not because I am picky, but because the candidate just is not up to my supposedly low standards. I only asked for the bare minimum.
Yet so far it was seen as requirement of the highest order by them. Unbelievable.
"No, Mr. Handkerchief, I will not marry your second niece from your father's family. Thank you for the suggestion"
"I am sorry Mrs. Table Clock, but I refuse to be betrothed to your second daughter"
Sometimes the suggestions are so wild, I might actually consider them. But those are rare so my list of potential brides is still manageable.
One of the names on top of list is Miss Teaspoon, daughter of Mr. Coffee and Mrs. Teabag.
Miss Teaspoon is a gentle lady, with a slender body and beautiful neck.
That mesmerizing neck of hers might be one of my biggest weaknesses.
Her skin fair like an expensive wedding gown. Her tiny arm is the textbook definition of feminine. Wonderful.
"Good afternoon Miss Teaspoon, are you free tonight for a walk around the foyer?" One of my favorite activity, sightseeing the garden from the huge windows located in the foyer
I have asked her out quite a few times, and I think there is a chemistry between us. That is why I had the courage to ask her again.
"Oh my, Mr. Candle Holder. That is quite an offer and for that I am grateful. Unfortunately-" Her voice was simply not registering to my head anymore.
My mind struggles to process any words coming after that.
I was dejected, as someone who I wish to wed and someone who I am a good friend with, her rejection is causing me great pain.
Maybe she is not the one, after all. Not my happy ever after.
The evening was quiet, so was the dinner service. Nothing attracts my numb-brain attention. Time to call it a day for me.
And so I spent the night thinking where did it go wrong.
It was a hopeful attempt, after all.
That was probably the closest I had been, so far to say the last. But that was the closest.
How pathetic am I, then if that is the closest?!
Though sometimes, days passed without me thinking about it at all, like I am almost completely over it. If only that is the case, though.
Maybe someday, someone would pity me to the point they begged their daughter to go with me. Or maybe someone's daughter is the one that would pity me. Who knows.
Until that fateful day comes, I shall continue waiting, doing my job as always.
END
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