Earlier today, and to my great surprise, I received a phone call. That in itself is fairly ordinary, of course, but it was the person on the other end that made me sit up and pay attention. Royalty was reaching out to me -- a mere peasant. Indeed, it was the Princess of Kapowpfaff. In case you never heard of that, Kapowpfaff is a bit like Camelot -- a legendary and mythological kingdom where magical things can happen, with one notable difference. Though unknown to most, this one actually exists. It's real.
After somewhat recovering from the initial shock, even a questionably sane person such as yours truly quickly started wondering -- why would such a person from a vastly different world be calling me, of all people? Turned out, Her Highness was shoppping in a local flea market. Timeout. Princesses shop in flea markets? I thought they OWNED flea markets as part of their manors, estates, kingdoms, queendoms, whatever, but what do I know?
To my utter astonishment, the above-mentioned P of K suggested we get together for a bite to eat. Not being familiar with whatever extravagant tastes she may have become accustomed to, nor could I likely afford them -- I humbly suggested a local sports bar. Right in my wheelhouse. Amazingly, she agreed.
Sure enough, she showed up a while later. After all the trumpets announcing her arrival died down, she made her grand entrance. Thankfully, she left her usual entourage of man servants and/or eunuchs outside, then plopped on a stool next to me.
She was hungry and wanted to know what fine cuisine was available to stimulate her palate. After learning that this particular establishment had no giant water tank full of live lobsters, no beluga caviar freshly imported from Russia, and nary a leg of lamb or filet mignon to be found, she begrudgingly opted for chicken wings. Liquid refreshment? Once it became apparent her usual preference for a fine wine older than the Declaration of Independence would not be fulfilled either, she settled for a beer. Amazing.
But, oh my, did the Kapowness ever know about sports. College and pro football? Michigan's going down at Notre Dame next week and the Lions will get crushed in San Fran Sunday night, she said. I was grilled about Danica Patrick and other subjects. Holy royalty, Batwoman -- where did THIS come from? How smart ARE these people from Kapowpfaff anyway?
Not only smart, but obviously highly competitive. Those chicken wings looked pretty good, and I would have liked a few of them, but it was not to be. Her Highness plowed through those like Joey Chestnut does at the annual Nathan's Coney Island hot dog eating contest. Two at a time. Now you see them -- chomp, chomp -- now you don't. Gone. Bones and all, and I'm not sure what became of the napkins with a little leftover grease on them, but they disappeared too. Wow. Yours truly didn't know whether to be impressed or scared, but it was definitely a notable performance.
Alas, the P of K had other more pressing matters to attend to, and departed the premises. Heads turned and jaws hung agape, though it remained unclear whether that was due to her magnificent splendor, or what the other patrons had just witnessed with the brutal demolition and disposal of those chicken wings.
Chances are I'll never get invited to visit the magical kingdom of Kapowpfaff again if they ever see this article, but one never knows. Maybe they're more benevolent than meets the eye. If not, I certainly hope they've done away with that pesky guillotine over the years. That could be problematic for a peasant who dared to speak out.
In the meantime, it's back to my usual mundane life of watching and writing about sports, and looking after my beloved yorkies. This is a world I understand -- I think.
And besides that -- I'm hungry.