Let me present a vision board of the Birds found at Royal Doll Town starting with Gringo Flamingo the wooer of Etta Kitt who fronts a band of outsider flamingos resident on a shallow sand bank off the coast of Spain. Gringo Flamingo is their ambassador and frequents Royal Doll Town to convene with the King when matters pertaining to the Avian Reconnaissance Monitoring Earth Network are discussed. He has become progressively more resident at the King's Palace as the global destruction of their planet by Consumans is at an all time high. So Etta Kitt has been seeing a lot more of the Flamingo-man suitor. Gringo and his colony of flamingos suffer one unfortunate misshapen mishap. They all have extra short legs resulting from the toxic radioactive discharge of a highly classified spree of insane underwater nuclear testing, which detrimentally affected their gene pool for ever more. Gringo Flamingo has come to terms with his affliction and elects to wear customized cowboy boots teamed with a cowboy hat and dashing kerchief, while the rest of his tribe shyly conceal their deformities by standing in the shallows of the sand bank never daring to leave the security of the water. Possibly the only time they would ever consider it, is if there were an emergency at the Royal Tower which required their assistance and they were called for by Gringo to join the defences.
Exhibit B would be Dolores. There was the time when a Mauritian Magician friend of Count Mandrake had managed to create an immortal dodo bird at about the same time as the Count imbued King Fisher with terrestrial permanence. Dolores, the lone surviving cognisant dodo of this planet currently resides in the old bathtub on Libertine’s Level of Royal Doll Town. How did Libertine come by her? Well Dolores nearly drove the immortal Mauritian Magician half off the island with her perpetual chitchat. Subjected to eons of bird babble he had had enough and sent word to Count Mandrake to inquire whether Libertine would take her in. It so happened that Libertine had just accommodated an outcast Italian albino peacock by the name Paulo Pavonazzo who turned out to be equally loquacious and she anticipated they’d make suitable companions. So she agreed. Indeed, the two engage in such tremendous magniloquent conversation each day that they are relegated to the Throne Room in order to provide peace and quiet for everyone else on the floor. The Throne Room is the old disused yet still piped ornate water closet aka a toilet or lavatory used by the late lavish Lord Marcello.
The Pavonazzo clan of peacocks ensconced in an opulent estate in Italy (where the padrone had an irresistible penchant for these flamboyant birds) didn’t quite know what to make of the albino hatchling Paulo. You see the Pavonazzo men are extremely proud of their intense peacock colours and daily strut around showing off their bluesy symphonic plumage with great Italian aplomb. As Paulo grew older he sensed the shame he had brought upon the house of Pavonazzo. Paulo the pale felt like a pariah and resolved to run away with the next migratory bird trader who came to collect peacock feathers for Royal Doll Town. For the most part, only impaired birds, those missing legs or feet have been granted residency at Royal Doll Town in order to avoid avian overpopulation, but when Libertine laid eyes on Paulo she thought he was magnificent and just the creature needed to add a sense of ceremony and occasion to the Throne Room. Apart from the impediment of his discolouration he displayed another peculiarity. The traditional trade mark eye shapes of his peacock feathers are actually heart shaped. A most favourable omen Queen Marcheline mused when she met him and she also quite had her eye on him, for she had been requiring a royal ride, something akin to a gallant looking horse, but at least ten times smaller. She could very clearly indeed picture herself sitting majestically side saddle atop Paulo strutting regally along the promenades. Paulo on first arrival at Court could only speak Italian, so lost in translation was the bit about him being a royal steed of sorts. He heard something about a wonky donkey and was heartily insulted and launched forth in wild Italianate ranting and raving and lingering repine until it was decided to settle him in with Libertine, which seemed to calm him down again. He was granted residency and instated on top of the cistern of the antique lavatory. Whenever an official meeting which includes Libertine is convened, down on her level where she is most comfortable, on account of her larger size, Paulo assumes position behind the King and Queen and fans out his magnificent tail feathers dramatically to form a fantastic lacy white backdrop glamorising the affair. For the rest of the time he and Dolores the Dodo animatedly entertain each other in broken English, which is the practical lingo midway between Italian and French.
As for the royal ride, it was perfectly resolved when two Polish Frizzle Sisters arrived illegally at customs. These extremely fluffy white chickens could not speak a word of English. They only spoke Polish or Fowl Language or Fowl Polish it wasn’t understood which but they clucked away determinedly as the Gallinule brothers escorted them to the King who forwarded them to the Queen. When Queen Marcheline encountered these gloriously pouffy ladies she was having T’s (Talks. In lieu of having tea, as dolls cannot consume) with Jellatine. The Laotongs were shrill with excitement as they had that very minute been talking about how sublime it would be to do royal horse-ish riding if only they had some regal creatures to ride upon and now voilà!!! They crooned and fussed around those chickens tickling and stroking them with great relish which seemed to go down very well the chicken sisters. They were virtually purring when Jellatine launched forth into wildly gesticulating sign language and horse-riding re-enactments in an attempt to explain to the chickens that they wished to ride them. Finally the penny dropped and the hens regarded each other in stupefied stunned chicken silence. The silence lingered. The Frizzle Sisters regarded the Soul sisters who regarded each other and they all took it in turns to give one another quizzical stares. This time nothing had been lost in translation, the Poles had not interpreted anything about being paltry poultry they had comprehended gloriously glamorous riding breed and so quite unexpectedly the brooding silence was shattered with the hens whooping and nodding ‘yes’ in unison. Much celebration ensued with all four of them cavorting and bouncing around in flouncy-fluffy-feathery hugs of joy and excited jocularity. The Polish Frizzles have never learnt English but it doesn’t matter. They mutter and cluck away in their private language while languishing where ever they like for they receive first class royal treatment and are indulgently pampered and groomed daily. In return they take great delight in being saddled up in exquisite bridle wear. Each saddle has an appended baby seat for Prince Camembert and Jilly Bean to ride with their mothers. When not being ridden or groomed, the Frizzle Sisters mostly relax in their plush luxurious boudoir wearing lacy white capes and fancy large Victorian style frilled night caps.
The Cybiography of Queen Marcheline CLICK HERE:
AND HE SAID:
"Truly I tell you,
You're NEVER too old to be young at heart
P l a g i a r i s m is
a plague D O N ' T
S P R E A D I T ! ! !
R e s p e c t