“All rise for the Honourable Justice O’Hara.”
The courtroom stood as the judge entered, coffee in hand, bun slightly crooked, the universal sign of a judge who already regretted being assigned to a hearing.
“You may be seated.”
A few dozen bottoms thumped down in unison.
“This court will now hear the case of Four Former Frogs v. Princess Emma.” Consulting her notes, Justice O’Hara frowned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Four frogs, is it?”
“Former frogs, your honour,” Mr. Keroppi, Attorney for the plaintiffs corrected. “My clients were transformed into princes when they were kissed - without consent - by the defendant.”
Princess Emma stood up before her lawyer could react, “Without consent? Your honour, they were practically begging for it.”
“Objection,” Mr. Keroppi croaked. “My clients certainly did not…”
“Oh please,” Emma snorted. “One of them brought a whole bouquet of pondweed.”
Justice O’Hara brought down her gavel and signalled for the defendant’s attorney to reign in his royal client. “Let’s proceed before I need something stronger than coffee. Plaintiff One, Prince Naveen, the court will hear your damages claim.”
With a nervous cough, Prince Naveen stood. “Your honour, I claim loss of status.”
A murmur of disbelief rippled through the courtroom.
Adjusting his collar with a long, olive finger, Prince Naveen continued, “As a frog I was a beloved and essential member of a delicate ecosystem. Now, as a prince, I am the living embodiment of white male aristocratic hegemony.”
A smattering of applause from the gallery.
“Don’t encourage him,” justice O’Hara warned. “Princess Emma, any comment?”
“He lived under a log,” Emma said. “A log.”
Justice O’Hara scribbled something that looked suspiciously like kill me on her pad. “Noted. Plaintiff Two.”
Prince Jeremiah swayed to his feet - barely - and hiccupped so violently that Justice O’Hara flinched. “My damages,” he slurred, “are loss of agency. As a frog, I traveled freely from pond to pond. Now, as a prince, I’m a ceremonial puppet paraded abound by parliament.”
Justice O’Hara stared. “Sir, you reek of wine.”
“It’s diplomatic wine,” Jeremiah declared, belching into his sleeve.
Princess Emma rolled her eyes. “He asked me to kiss him. Twice.”
“ONCE,” Jeremiah protested, holding up three fingers.
Justice O’Hara sighed. “Moving on. Plaintiff three.”
Prince Pepe rose, shimmering in an emerald blazer so bright that justice O’Hara had to squint. “I claim impoverishment,” he announced. “As a frog, I lived in abundance. As a prince I’ve inherited a kingdom with a catastrophic national deficit. Every meal, every parade horse, every gemstone encrusted cushion is purchased with debt.”
Justice O’Hara stared at his bejeweled pocket square. “…You appear to be wearing a small fortune.”
“Symbolic,” Pepe muttered.
Emma leaned toward the microphone. “He spent the national arts budget on that jacket.”
Justice O’Hara dropped her head briefly to the rostrum before rallying. “Plaintiff Four, your claim please.”
Wheezing like a deflating balloon, Prince Kermit rose with the help of his cane.
“My damages,” he rasped, “are loss of health. As a frog I swam daily and ate nothing but clean, low-fat, free range, non-GMO proteins. Now palace chefs have me taste-testing ten course banquets. I’ve put on thirty pounds, my triglycerides are through the roof, and my cardiologist says I’m less fairy tale than cautionary tale.” Breathless from the effort, Prince Kermit collapsed back into his seat.
Justice O’Hara blinked. “Sir…you’ve been human for five weeks.”
“Exactly my point,” Kermit wheezed.
Emma raised her hand. “Your honour, he cried the first time he saw a canapé. Happy tears.”
“Very well,” Justice O’Hara said, straightening. “The plaintiffs claim sexual harassment and damages including loss of status, freedom, wealth and health. Princess Emma, you admit to kissing these four frogs?”
Emma folded her arms. “Five frogs your honour.”
Gasps from the assembly.
Justice O’Hara frowned. “Five?”
“The fifth one didn’t turn into a prince,” Emma said. “So, I married him.”
The gallery erupted. The judge rapped her gavel like she was tenderizing steak.
“You married a frog?” Justice O’Hara asked.
“Yes,” Emma said. “A frog who didn’t immediately abandon his identity the second we kissed. Authentic. True to himself. Flexible tongue - not relevant to the case, but worth mentioning.”
Justice O’Hara eyed the plaintiffs. “And where is this steadfast frog-husband now?”
“Probably at the pond,” Emma said. “Catching flies. Leaping on lily pads. Living his best life. Especially now that the competition has been removed.”
Justice O’Hara gave the four princes a long, weary look then delivered a single, decisive gavel strike:
“Case dismissed!”
“Thank you, Your Honour,” Emma said sweetly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go bring my husband some fresh crickets.”