Dear readers,
Thanks for your patience during our brief hiatus.
Our reader Mike wrote in a while ago with this excellent bit of fan art, which caused us to need to run Princess Pricklepants for president.
In those interim months our country has gotten steadily weirder, more confusing, and more absurd to the point that at this point were a hedgehog to actually enter the race it would barely be remarkable. We apologize in advance that this post is less a story and more a heap of images with bits of text connecting them.
We’ll keep this introduction brief and bring in our first picture with words under it.
Princess Pricklepants, Boris the Canadian Existentialist Bear, Jane the Cow Accountant, Bessie the Generic Cow, and Christine (Cow Safety Officer) were sitting around the living room. Her Highness was displeased. The hat she trying on was really not working, but the boutique it had been purchased from had a No Pets Allowed policy, so she’d need to send the hand servants along to sort things out again. Usually she accepted these things with the dignity and grace befitting a hedgehog of high station, but this time this indignity, this utter injustice of Pet Prejudice touched a tipping point.
“I think we should do something to solve Pet Prejudice,” she said.
Boris was inspired, “Indeed, we must take a grand stand against these injustices humanity foists upon us. I propose that we all go on strike, and refuse to participate as characters in any more stories.”
This idea was poorly understood, and not generally accepted.
Jane had an idea, “You could run for mayor and make a local ordinance.”
This idea was poorly understood, and not generally accepted.
Princess Pricklepants proposed a profound plan, “All the humans on Twitter are constantly chattering about the election. I formally declare that I shall run for president of the United States. I will fix these foolish laws and also serve as a proper president.”
Jane was concerned, “I’m concerned.”
“How so?”
“I’m fairly sure that hedgehogs can’t be president. Even if you could, how would you run a campaign ? That would be expensive, complex, and totally impractical.”
Princess Pricklepants got Bessie and Christine to check into it. They googled the Constitution and verified that Article Two didn’t list being a human as a requirement. This was not a problem.
Then she remembered, “You know my old friend Fancy? They’ve served on a few campaigns as a campaign manager, we can get them to do the campaign-y things, then I’ll be elected, I’ll fix everything, and we do what Presidents do, teaching everyone manners, making new holidays, and putting an end to the perils of pet prejudice.”
“I don’t think that this is what Presidents do,” noted Boris, “also, Fancy is a puppet.”
Jane added, “Didn’t you have a bit of a falling out with Fancy?”
There had been a few tense moments in the past, but Princess Pricklepants sent a few texts, and before they knew it Fancy had arrived to start their campaign. Thus they formed the Prickle Party since presidents were supposed to have parties.
Boris had a pointed question, “Fancy, you are a puppet. Humans do not take puppets seriously. How are you expecting any of this to work?”
Fancy had a simple response, “Well, Boris, you see, most politicians are puppets, nothing to worry about old pal.”
“Please do not call me ‘old pal'”
“Sure thing, old buddy.”
“Please do not belabor this conversation, there is a lot left to do if we want to have even a semblance of a plot.”
“K-O, old chum.”
“Please simply nod in agreement without using words from this point forward unless you have anything substantive to add.”
Fancy nodded. It was a jaunty puppet nod, with a bit of a flourish at the end.
Christine had been looking into matter as well. “Fancy, how do you explain this?”
“Look, that’s my cousin Snazzy. They’re a triceratops, I’m a giraffe. Come on, folks. Now Snazzy, they’ve got a very long, very complicated relationship with the Jungle Cruise ride in Disneyland, and yeah, sure it’s weird, but that it’s nothing humans wouldn’t think of as totally normal.”
This seemed reasonable enough, so they carried on with the plan.
Princess was delighted. A presidential campaign meant the opportunity to fight the good fight against Pet Prejudice.
Jane was delighted. A presidential campaign meant regular meetings, briefings, planning, and control.
Boris was delighted. A presidential campaign was as close to a mythic quest as they could ever get.
Christine was not delighted, as security was a huge pain, but nobody really listened.
While the others were busy being delighted, Bessie sat down and worked on a campaign poster:
Princess had a few points of constructive criticism. “Bessie, that is not me.”
“Oh, I just did a google image search for a hedgehog, did it need to be you specifically?”
“Yes.”
“Oh… Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“I guess we can fix that.”
“Also, the year is off, it should be 2016. Besides that it’s excellent.”
Dates were hard since Bessie was a computer programmer, but she took a second try.
It was well accepted. There were some grumblings by an unnamed bear that it looked more like a calendar than a campaign poster, but these were handled by indeterminate mumbling.
“Okay, poster complete. Now we need a slogan.”
“Pets are people.”
“No.”
“Fight for the rights of pets and other disenfranchised animals that should have a part in the political process and enjoy the blessings of liberty.”
“Too wordy.”
Boris suggested, “Make America More Canadian.”
This was confusing and quickly rejected.
Princess came up with an idea, “Make America Polite Again.”
This was generally accepted well. Boris mentioned that this would be making America more Canadian, so it was fine.
Bessie worked on some more campaign materials.
This one was sublime. Now they were cooking with gas. Fancy mentioned that they needed to start a media campaign ASAP, so they started posting the image on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, and wherever else they could get the word out.
The word got out, but not exactly as planned.
The first to hear was Hillary Clinton. She was not pleased, as dogs, guinea pigs, and birds were often Democratic voters. Even with cats as swing voters this was a problem.
Fancy pulled some strings and managed to arrange a brief intro. between Princess and Donald Trump.
This went very poorly. Mr. Trump was not at all polite. We cannot in good conscience repeat any of the things he said here. After this meeting Her Highness was distressed. She decided she’d chat with him on Twitter instead, since with that many people watching he’d surely be more thoughtful and polite.
Fancy reached out to Ted Cruz. Cruz stated he would not meet with Her Highness since she didn’t go to an Ivy League school. He did send an autographed picture, though.
This was confusing and quickly ejected. Boris was alarmed, “I now realize that the author is not merely incompetent, but horrifying. I would like a new universe now, please.”
Princess was worried that Ted might become confused after his inevitable failure in the primaries and tried to keep him from worrying.
Fancy arranged a call with Marco Rubio. Rubio said she knew exactly what she was doing. Then he said she knew exactly what she was doing. After this he said she knew exactly what she was doing. It was confusing, but seemed positive. She sent him a friendly note on Twitter, hoping that since they’d hit it off, he might be willing to assist.
Bernie Sanders’ campaign did not respond, though apparently he did not take her very seriously, as Prickle Party campaign operatives overheard him say the following:
For reasons that are difficult to explain, Clint Eastwood believed he was running against Princess Pricklepants. He spent an hour talking at an empty chair until an assistant brought in some poor assistant’s pet hedgehog (named Bruce Quillis). Fortunately Bruce Quillis didn’t speak English.
While the other parties were holding their primaries to sort out which candidate would run for their party, the Prickle Party primary ended much earlier. Princess Pricklepants got all the votes since there were no other candidates running.
Well, there was a single write-in for Boris, but there were nearly a dozen votes for Princess Pricklepants, Prickle Party Presidential Candidate, Protector of Pets Rights, and Promoter of Politeness. A post-it note on the refrigerator demanded a recount, but in the end the votes were unnecessary, for the Lady of the Lake held aloft Excalibur from the bosom of the water signifying by Divine Providence that Princess Pricklepants was the Prickle Party Presidential Candidate.
This inspired her to write a poem.
Since they like making campaign art much more than talking to humans or campaigning, they worked on a delightful campaign poster.
With Princess Pricklepants poised as the Prickle Party Presidential pick, now was the long wait for the other parties to get themselves together and pick someone.
Princess imagined the eventual debate where each candidate could calmly and rationally offer their thoughts to try to show why their ideas and policy positions would be best and most effective. Princess Pricklepants’ powers of polite persuasion would provoke a powerful positive change. Surely it was a historical inevitability that we would soon see something like:
And shortly after that manifest destiny would be realized:
And with that, our post has reached a point well past the 1,000 word limit that came and quickly flew past.
Stay tuned for our next episode to find out if the hedgehog will get on the ballot, if the media will allow her into the debates, whether Fancy will manage to get a ground campaign to take the states, whether campaign funding will come into play, whether Mitt Romney will somehow get dragged into all of this, and many other things unless in the next episode we just pretend none of this ever happened since this presidential campaign is somehow more ridiculous than anything we can manage to come up with.
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And so, as we always try to do, we begin our story with a picture with words under it.
Her Highness wasn’t fully comfortable with this arrangement, but happily it didn’t matter, as Owl was already outside, hopefully not in the mood for eating any hedgehogs.
Princess Pricklepants was profoundly pleased. After a complicated series of events and delays (which must not be discussed, explained, or named), she was finally able to fulfill her supreme destiny in teaching a monkey all the things a monkey should know – politeness, manners, and grace at a tea party (well, there was also dancing, singing, and proper diction, but those were a digression, and at this point Her Highness had become very suspicious of digressions). The tea was set out, there were some nice snacks, and she had her artful friend Artemisia as a model manners assistant. There was even a fancy chair for the monkey. Things were going swimmingly.
Puzzlingly, when she looked up ‘Tea Party’ on google, the results were utterly bizarre and distressingly impolite. Google was clearly confused, it seemed to be looking into some strange and rather grumpy alternate reality she was pleased to be no part of.
Unfortunately there was a mishap. But in every mishap, there’s an opportunity to be polite and helpful. “Oh dear, Monkey, are you okay? Let me help you back up.” She politely helped Monkey back to the seat. Monkey got back on the seat but at this point, things took a turn towards the complicated, as reality cruelly conspired against etiquette lessons.
Monkey sat upon the chair, but in a sense that was not so much “upon” as “upon, but in the entirely wrong way.” Monkey sat in a manner sadly lacking in refinement and sophistication. Princess politely looked away to give Monkey the chance to correct the posture problems.
She felt wonderfully sublime exploring this mysterious and fascinating new space, but the monkey posture problem remained. She had to think of a solution. She thought, and realized the solution. It was incredibly simple and elegant. “Monkey, perhaps you’d like to look under the table? It’s so lovely to crawl around there, and it’s so polite and refined,” she helpfully suggested.
It a was a perfect solution. The posture problems were in the past. There was a slight down side, though. The monkey’s trip under the table left Artemisia inexplicably distressed. Princess Pricklepants felt great concern. She tried to comfort her artful model friend.
Some aspects of this may have comforted her friend (though the quill stabbing aspect was much too uncomfortable to be very comforting), but it had an unfortunate complicating effect. Monkey noticed that comforting Artemisia looked incredibly fun and decided to try it too.
“Good morning, Boris.”
The Pleasantries of Princess Pricklepants 