(Another challenging opening sentence, this time supplied by the Dumbest Blogger at the Dumbest blog ever. If you want to join in the fun of suggesting a future opening sentence for these stories, please leave your suggestion in the comments – only one suggestion per person!)
I married Prince Harry for prestige and money. I had no idea what other baggage would come along for the ride. Let me explain.
Getting the title Duchess of Sussex – and by appropriation Harry got given Duke of Sussex – was the first insult. Duchess of Success would have been much better, or even to have been the Duchess of Sexsucks. But Sussex, goodness me. I said to Harry the day after the wedding, “We gotta git outta here”. Harry agreed.
And then with all this money available to me and I’m not allowed to go shopping. Why bother having money at all? I said to Harry, two days after the wedding, “We gotta git outta here”. Harry agreed.
Harry too was sick to death of all the relatives and all the bowing and scraping that goes on. All these women who curtsy to me like they’ve got some bobbying-down disease. Then I was expected to curtsy first to the queen and she didn’t curtsy back. I said to Harry, three days after the wedding, “We gotta git outta here”. Harry agreed.
And food? Fish and chips instead of a Big Mac. I said to Harry, four days after the wedding, “We gotta git outta here”.
It’s now five days after the wedding and the queen won’t let me wear a tiara to a State dinner because only direct heirs to the throne or something get to wear them. How many of her tiaras can she wear at once? So I’m not going to the State Dinner for President Trump. Everyone seems to think it’s because I hate Trump. The hatred is true but I’m not going because I’m not allowed to wear a tiara. Kate’s allowed to wear a tiara. I said to Harry, “We gotta git outta here”. Harry agreed. He agrees with everything I say.
So here we are in LA living like scum in our multi-million dollar chalet. Harry hates it. He said to me, “We gotta git outta here”. What an incompetent, spineless wimp. I said as much to him. I said ‘You’re an incompetent, spineless wimp. I married for prestige and money and look at me now. I used to be a wonderful actress, and now I can’t even act like the Duchess of Sussex. You made the bed. You lie in it. I’ve got a date with Netflix’.”
Actually come to think of it, the Duchess of Netflix sounds like quite a nice title. And once I git Harry killed off, the Dowager of Netflix sounds even better.”