Quintessentially Quilly

Nessa of, The Chrysalis Stage, hosts a weekly writing theme called Tales on Tuesday.

The idea is to tell a short, short (500 words or less) story based on the week’s theme. To provide us inspiration, each theme will be the title of a TV show. This week’s theme is from the, “Golden Girls” sitcom which was popular from 1985 to 1992. If you wish to play along, please visit Nessa for the list of upcoming themes, and remember, your story does not have to relate to the series.

Once upon a time there was a humble blacksmith named Bauble who had three gorgeous daughters. One was a blond, one was a brunette and one was a red-head, but all were lovely to behold. Unfortunately, they were also unbearably vain and squabbled among themselves over who was prettiest.

Their constant preening and bickering made them very unpopular with the villagers. A town meeting was called to deal with the problem. Someone suggested ordering Bauble and his daughters out of town, however Bauble was an excellent blacksmith and he himself was quite likeable. Finally the villagers decided to have a beauty pageant and invite the King as judge. Of course, as soon as the girls learned they would have an audience with the king, they became even more insufferable.

“By my name alone the King will declare me most beautiful,” claimed Laurel. “My name has long been associated with winners.”

“Ha!” Inga said. “You’re named after a smelly plant that was woven into a crown for sweaty athletes to cover their stench. I am named after precious metals.”

“Oh, pl-lease,” Treasure interrupted. “Precious metals, my eye, you’re named after the mold that molten metal is poured into. I, on the other hand, am indeed a rare and precious treasure.”

It was an oft-repeated argument that ended in shrieks and wails and crocodile tears. It also usually lead to the sisters haranguing whoever was near to choose which of them was prettiest. Of course, no one was foolish enough to actually do so.

Bauble himself steadfastly refused to name one of his daughters prettier than the others. “How can I choose,” he would say. “You each look so much like your beautiful mother whom I loved dearly, God rest her soul.” Bauble would bow his head and pretend to sob and the daughters would leave squabbling amongst themselves over which looked most like their mother.”

“I have the bluest eyes, so it must be me!” Treasure would say.

“No, no. I have the blond hair,” Inga would proclaim, “It has to be me!”

“I am the tallest and most graceful,” Laurel would say. “Obviously it is I.”

By the time the villagers decided to call in the king to end the squabbles, Bauble himself supported their plan. He’d long since realized he could never supply a dowry large enough to attract a mate for even one of the girls.

The week before the beauty pageant was almost peaceful. The sisters were so intent on sewing the finest dresses and perfecting their make up and hair, that they had little time to fight with one another or harangue anyone else. The sudden peace had the villagers congratulating themselves on their brilliant plan. Alas, the sister’s quiet was only the calm before the storm.

Since the pageant featured only the three girls, it was decided that the King would meet with them over tea. The girls would serve him, and then each one would sing and dance for his pleasure. Things probably would have gone quite differently had the girls been presented one by one, but they were not.

The girls arrived at the doors to the king’s council chambers dressed in their finest, each sister looking even more beautiful then ever before. The guards opened the doors to the King’s council chambers. The castellan announced them – and the girls rushed the throne.

“My eyes are bluest!”

“My hair is prettier!”

“My skin is fairest!”

“Halt!” The king yelled. The sisters ignored him. They charged up the stairs and onto the dais. The guards were unprepared for such behavior. In their experience, people feared the king and rarely sought his presence.

Laurel, Inga, and Treasure, each wanting the King’s attention for herself, reached out to take hold of him. King Midas leaped to his feet. “Stop!” he cried, but it was too late. Each of the sisters touched him and transformed instantly to solid gold. They stand in the castle still, and it is not unusual for visitors to have long debates over which statue is prettiest.