Dear Buffalo Mud Reader: In January 2020 Harry Windsor, formerly Henry Charles Albert David- Duke of Sussex or just plain old Prince Harry, along with his wife Meghan Markle, stepped back from their responsibilities as members of the British royal family. One of Winsor’s early moves was to submit a resume to Buffalo Mud. The piece below represents his first submission and though a departure from our normal satire/fake news oeuvre, being that it is Valentine’s Day, we thought we’d give the kid a shot.
Prince Harry Interviews For A Position With Buffalo Mud
Reagan & Zadie: After The Fox Hunt
Lincolnshire, England—The rain had cleared and the dogs were exhausted. It had been a frustrating fox hunt and the sisters-in-laws, Reagan and Zadie were also quite fatigued and grungy after riding all day through the muddy Lincolnshire countryside. The hunt was made especially frustrating by the fact fox hunting had been banned since 2003 in Great Britain, but traditions being what they are in a country that endows untold riches upon a pretend magic family—the women dutifully chased ghosts all day long.
At the conclusion of the sham hunt with the sun finally breaking through Reagan and Zadie dismounted from their steeds and began to walk side by side toward the stables. They moved at a comfortable pace occasionally looking at each other and smiling as they walked.
“William and I have so missed you and Harry since you’ve stepped back,” Zadie said looking at the ground.
“And us you. Little Archie is desperate for his Aunt Zadie.”
They handed off their horses to their Irish attendants and lingered for a moment, the light from the fading sun dancing across their lovely faces.
“Are you celebrating Valentine’s Day in America?” Zadie asked.
“Yes,” Reagan said with an impish grin. “We’re attending an event at George Clooney’s house. People in America are calling us the new Obamas. Supposedly, they’re going to throw loads of money at us.
“I’ve heard. I’m so envious—George Clooney.”
“And, you and William . . . how will you observe Valentine’s Day?”
“Oh, I imagine he’ll cover me in diamonds and such. Same old boring thing.”
Just then one of the Irish attendants emerged from the stable and reported to Princess Zadie that her steed was ready to be brushed out.
“Since when do you brush out your own horse?”
“Oh I don’t know. I’ve been reading some Marianne Williamson and have been feeling quite empowered. I have a glass of wine and work out all of Polly’s kinks. It’s so therapeutic and Polly loves it. You must join me.”
“Oh I would, but Harry needs me to attend some Cayman Island banking seminar in the morning and I’m dreadfully tired.”
“Never-you-mind. You must join me. I insist.” Turning to the attendant she said, “Sean, a glass of chardonnay for my sister.”
A moment later they were standing in the muted light of the roomy stall with straw beneath their riding boots and Reagan asked, as she vigorously brushed out Polly’s barrel, “Do you ever get used to the smell?”
Zadie was working the opposite side of the horse said, “Oh yes, with a bit of time it goes from rancid to tolerably rancid”
The two sisters laughed, then sipped from their chardonnay and moved toward the rear end or gaskin of the horse. It was there that Zadie noticed some spots on Reagan’s riding pants.
“Oh dear, your posterior is all mucky.”
“I beg your pardon, ” Reagan laughed. Her head light from the wine.
“No, no . . . just a few spots from the ride. Let’s see if I can loosen it up,” she said, setting her brush on the stall ledge with her wine.
She came over and the moment she placed her slender fingers on the soiled area Reagan involuntarily gasped, which in turn, sent shivers up Zadie’s spine. As Zadie gently worked the area Reagan began to pant slightly. Zadie moved her free hand to Reagan’s hip and pulled her posterior up against her mid-section. In that position she could smell the intoxicating aroma of Reagan’s lustrous black hair. Still holding her hip she slowly moved her free hand up to the small of her back and then gradually inched upward as Reagan’s panting became more acute.
“You’re so tense dear,” Zadie whispered as she caressed her sister-in-law’s back. Proceeding, as Reagan breathing became more hurried she said, “The silly tabloids reports of a feud between us—I could never feud with you. You’ve been the most welcome addition to this dreary family.”
Just then, above the panting Zadie heard footsteps and without looking up said, as she continued to hold Regan’s body close while massaging her back, “Sean, we’ve enough wine. That will be all.”
But the footsteps continued, “Sean,” Zadie said growing irritated.
Suddenly the footsteps stopped and the man at the stall opening said, “I’m not Sean. I’m Harry.”
By Harry Windsor.
