Reality and The Royal Court Meet

When I lived in Hollywood, I liked to claim my true heritage and go by the name Princess Marcella DeLaLuna. My great grandmother on my mother’s side was a Mayan Indian princess and I have a fairy ancestor from Scotland on my father’s side, making me a true fairy princess. My friends also chose royal names–Pleasant was Princess Farhana (and wrote a book of poetry called Princess of Hollywood) and Valerie was the Countess and my best friend and partner-in-crime, Kim, was the Empress.
One evening our worlds clashed.
I went to the grungy video store on Sunset Blvd to rent a movie. The large cashier with the wire glasses knew me from my frequent visits. I handed him my video to rent.
“Kim’s account, right?” he said, typing into his computer.
This perplexed me.
“No she’s not.” I said.
He glanced at me and enunciated further. “Kim’s account, right?”
“No, Kim’s not a count,” I answered, unable to understand why he was calling Kim a count. Even if she was of count lineage she would be called a countess, not a count. This guy was nuts.
He slowed down further, staring at me, the line behind me watching the exchange with interest now. “Kim’s account…”
I laughed. “No, no no, Kim’s not a count. Kim’s the Empress, I’m the princess, there is no count.”
He stared at me. “Please don’t do this to me. I’ve been working since this morning. Kim’s account.”
“Kim’s not a count.”
He buried his head in his hands.
All of a sudden, it all clicked.
“Ahhh, Kim’s account!” I said, it all becoming clear. I clapped my hand over my mouth and tears came to my eyes. “Yes, Kim’s account.”
He shook his head, filled out the form, and I signed. The line of people behind me seemed awestruck.
“Valerie’s a countess,” I said as I walked out the door, my face still red from embarrassment, tears smudging my mascara from laughing so hard in confusion.

Picture of Marci Darling

Marci Darling

I lie here on my pink puffy bed in my pink silky pajamas, or pink flannel depending on my mood (the only thing you can bank on is that there will be chocolate smeared somewhere on my attire), with my pink feathered pen, writing my most delicious daydreams. Funny? Sometimes. Scandalous? Hopefully. Inspiring? Perhaps. Full of love? Always. Welcome to my World.

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