[Note: This is my one-hundreth entry, and I actually have a much cooler entry planned for it, but as I recently got into Beauty and the Beast (again) as the Enchantress, and my life has been Disney lately, and my writer's block is ever-increasing, I give you this instead. Enjoy]
[Oh, and John Johnson's the actor playing the young prince. Yes, that's really his name.]
So I’m ranting about Beauty and the Beast because my cousin told me to. Hopefully, this will form a plot, or a story, or just something I can put into words that is relatively coherent and not complete gobbly-gook.
If gobbly-gook is even a word.
So, there was this prince, long ago in a galaxy far, far away or something (or was that Luke…?) who was really spoiled, really arrogant, and looked a bit like John Johnson. He was sitting in his castle one night, minding his own business, when this little old beggar woman shows up at the door and asks for a place to stay. She was poor, obviously, by definition old beggar women randomly appearing at people’s doors have to be poor, it’s a rule. Due to this, in return for the shelter she hoped to acquire from him, she would give him a rose. Basically, give the woman a place to stay, some food, and maybe some water, and she’d give you a pretty rose.
Right. The prince? So not having that.
Turned her down flat.
Ever persistent, she tried again. One rose in exchange for shelter from the clearly bitter cold, because just as old fairytale beggar women have to be poor, the weather when they arrive must be as cold and oppressive as possible. Trufax.
Once again, he denied her. He was completely repulsed by her haggard appearance, and sneered at the rose. Much in the same attitude as the prince, the old woman was also so not having that, and warned him not to be judged by appearances, for beauty was found within.
He still didn’t get it.
So in response, she threw off her cape, stepped out from behind the scrim, and revealed herself to, in fact, be a beautiful freaking enchantress.
The prince fell to his knees and begged frantically for forgiveness like a small, immature, whiney child similar to my little sister. He prayed, he kicked, he screamed, he listened to Hannah Montana, he pretended to have a crush on the Jonas Brothers, he danced, he ate mass amounts of Chinese take out, and finally, he groveled before the feet of the not-particularly-impressed enchantress.
Despite the fake crush on the Jonas brothers, she could see that there was no love in his heart. How she could see that, exactly, we may never know. It has something to do with waving your arms threateningly at John Johnson in the hallway next to the chorus room. It may also be one of those stupid fairy tale mysteries you’re not really supposed to know the answer to. The world may never know.
As opposed to shrugging her shoulders and deciding this idiot wasn’t worth it, the enchantress, probably bored and a bit PMS-y, cursed the prince by transforming him into a hideous, ugly beast, doomed to remain so until he could learn to love another, and earn her love (or his love, let’s be politically correct here) in return. Deciding she was on a roll tonight, she also cursed the castle, and placed the now-enchanted rose up in the prince’s super-secret club house he liked to call “The West Wing”. The rose would bloom until the prince’s 21st birthday, conveniently dooming him to remain a beast for all eternity just around the time he hit the legal drinking age. At least he can drink.
But of course, what’s a drink when you’re lonely? For who could ever learn to love a beast?