Gerry, a Tower of London Beefeater, viewed her out of the corner of his eye. She looked strangely different from last time, but it was definitely her. That’s the third time this week. Maybe she was bored…
“Hi there young man! How y’all doing? I’m loving those Family Crown Jewels!” The accent was a wobbly Texan drawl. She tottered along in high heels and fur coat.
“You know I truly love everything about your British Royal Family. They would still be ours too, if it wasn’t for that little unpleasantness back in the Seventeen somethings. Poor old George. It was simply awful what those Yankees did!”
Gerry smiled as best he could.
“Well, Gerald, it must be real tough on Her Royalness, being in the spotlight an’ all. You’d think she would want to have a few minutes peace when no one would recognise her. Maybe go out in disguise?“
Gerry turned away briefly before rolling his eyes.
“Damn! You know it’s me Gerald, you’ve known all along! Was it the entourage or the dogs that gave it away?” The accent gradually returned to it’s native Queen’s English.
“Fooled me again, Your Majesty.”
“Ha! Wonderful! See you tomorrow.”
This is my contribution to Sunday Photo Fiction, Hosted by Al Forbes. Click here for more details.
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