The Princess and the Leech(es)

There once was a slightly trashy princess. She didn’t know she was of noble blood while growing up as a workhorse for her parents. They didn’t want her to be aware of the power she had until they could condition her to believe it should only be used for their benefit and not her own. Having been schooled in the ways of poverty and scarcity, Princess Britney found it difficult to retrain her brain once she began owning her title. She believed she still had to work all the time—and in constant service of those who were in her immediate family, particularly “King” Spears. Now, King Spears was a very ignorant man who only came into his power by the dumb luck of giving birth to a girl who could transcend what we call American class lines. King Spears was no king without the princess he had happened to churn out with one of his “emissions.” But he seemed to think quite the opposite—that Princess Britney was nothing without him. That were it not for him, she wouldn’t even be here, let alone been able to harness her talent on “his dime.” For King and Queen Spears spent every last sou they could find on all the right lessons for Princess Britney. Whether it was singing, dancing or acting, they left no stone unturned in terms of classes they would pay for, representation they would defer to, etc. There was nothing too good for Little Britney, so long as she returned on the investment that was being made in her. After all, she couldn’t have finagled the crown without a bit of tinsel from her progenitors to get her started…could she?

But Princess Britney realized too late that they were leading her down a primrose path. Which was really quite unfair because Princess Britney did so love roses, thus how would she really have been able to resist? What’s more, there was the promise of “Prince Charming” along the way. Sir Timberlake. Timberfuck was more like it. He didn’t give a damn about her, not really. Only what she represented, the ideal she fortified. Particularly when at his side. And with this “good girl” to help his own “princely” boy band image, he had plenty of use for her—not yet aware that, like Princess Simpson with Sir Lachey, she would soon surpass her “man” in terms of clout and influence among the Pop Kingdom. By the magical year of 2000, one could scarcely turn their head without seeing an image of Brit Brit, all smiles and innocent Americana. Except that Princess Britney was already warning us that she was, indeed, “not that innocent” at all. She’d been a sexual being the entire time. After all, how could anyone dance like that and not be? It’s not as though she had been trying to keep it a secret, it was just that loyal subjects of Jive Records found it was important to uphold her persona as a Maid Marian type—complete with a chastity belt that sniveling would-be male suitors could keep dreaming of breaking. But only Sir Timberlake would be able to “lay” claim to that, proudly bragging of it after Princess Britney’s fallen woman reputation started to solidify by the not so magical year of 2002. Sir Timberlake was also aware that Princess Britney was no virgin when they met either, having granted that privilege long ago to some plebe called Reg Jones. No “Sir” in front of his moniker, that much was for certain. Not that any man deserved such a title of respect, least of all the type of men in Princess Britney’s orbit. But having grown up with such a shitty prototype of a male as her patriarchal example, Princess Britney didn’t think these “fellas” were so terrible. In fact, she found each one of them—though shittier than the last—to be quite gallant in their own ways, by her estimation. 

Particularly a certain Sir Federline. Something in him radiated all the trashiness she had been doing her best to suppress in her new role as “America’s Sweetheart.” Activated within her what she called her “true self.” The “inbred swamp thing,” as Rolling Stone “journalist” Vanessa Grigoriadis branded her, was unleashed, and she wasn’t about to be put back in her cage. Well, not yet anyway. The cage would come less than a year after divorcing officially from Sir Federline in July of 2007 (though Princess Britney had filed in November of 2006). Allowing it to dawn on her slowly that there was no Prince Charming—and that her father’s very existence had already indicated that reality with regard to men and who they always turned out to be deep down—Princess Brit started to go a little cuckoo. There was just no other word for it. And anyone else would have surely done the same. Especially a man put in the situation (except a man never would be). The epiphany that she was a mid-twenties divorcée saddled with two children who would now have the same broken home scenario that she did (even if Princess Brit’s parents stayed together until she got famous) was too much to bear. And that was part of the reason she decided to go “all out” and shave her head. Though some maintain Princess Britney did it because she was afraid her hair would be tested for traces of drugs in her system amid her custody battle with Sir Federline. She wanted to be doubly certain to eradicate all those meth remnants, and shaving her head seemed the most pragmatic way to do it. At least, that was the account of Lackey Lutfi (he tried to buy the title of “Sir,” but Princess Britney wasn’t having it). As given to the courts in 2012. But Princess Britney never confirmed or denied the reasons “why” regarding her head shaving. She still felt it was nobody’s business but her own. And, even if the drug testing revelation were true, there can be no denying that at least part of the reason Princess Britney took the shears to her tresses was to eradicate her persona as a “sex object.” An object of any kind really. For so long as she did not adhere anymore to the so-called beauty standard of America and its media, they would have to leave her alone. Or so she briefly thought. She might have been on meth when it seemed logical—until, all at once, it did not. 

Yet the head-shaving became the ultimate grist for the paparazzi’s ever-churning mill. And when Princess Britney’s increasingly brutal custody battle kept escalating as Sir Federline dangled her children before her, using them as a manipulating tool the same way King Spears would, she got caught in another unsavory moment. Yes, the illustrious “green umbrella incident.” Which she would acknowledge several months later with a sarcastic comment directed at Sir Federline, written as the following “apology” on her website: “I was preparing my character for a role in a movie where the husband never plays his part so they switch places accidentally. I take all my roles very seriously and got a little carried away. Unfortunately I didn’t get the part.” No, Princess Britney never seemed to get the part she really wanted, which was being a full-time mother who maybe did pop music “on the side.” If that. 

But, due to the decree of King Spears and his trollish advisor, a curious creature by the name of Lou Taylor that crawled out of a sewer near his chintzy throne, an idea was proposed. One that required everyone—despite their diverging takes on Princess Britney’s life—to come together. This meant Queen Spears and Sir Federline as well. Granted, the latter was already doing everything in his power to defame his erstwhile princess, which wasn’t difficult to do despite writing such crude public communiqués as: “Today I’m a free man. Ladies look out. Fuck a wife. Give me my kids bitch!” Of course, some of the punctuation was added in just now. In any case, it was like taking dignity from a woman (read: easy to do) for Sir Federline to have his request obliged. Because Princess Britney was already being painted as a heinous, out of control party monster by the media anyway—even though Sir Federline was doing pretty much the same, it’s just that paparazzi didn’t care enough about him to document it. Hence, it gave Sewer Troll Lou Taylor and King Spears the perfect chance to swoop in and keep the picture of Princess Britney as “crazy” swirling in the headlines. 

The cruelest ruse of all was those closest to Princess Britney making her believe that if she did as they said and went to rehab (where the inferior beds certainly made it impossible not to feel a pea), she would gain more access/rights to her children. As though she should have to work toward what was her god-given prerogative. Alas, since the closest members in her “court” had made her feel her entire life as though she had to work for something when it already belonged to her, Princess Britney fell prey to the manipulation. Particularly in her fragile, drug-addled state. 

But honestly, it was the 2000s. Who didn’t have a drug problem? Why should Princess Britney be made to suffer so much for hers? Such a small, simple joy of her youthful folly that she herself has stated she’s had to pay for even to this day. And what about someone like Princess Miley? Lauded for her “rebel” antics rather than torn down for them. It hardly seemed just. Yet nothing about Princess Britney’s life ever had been. Sure, they might have all thought her life was just like a fairy tale—“she’s so lucky, she’s a star” and all that rot—never knowing the depths of the nightmare until pulling back the curtain to see that the “Wizard of Oz” was her money-hungry, leeching family…led by a drunken buffoon at the controls. Controls that managed to lock Princess Spears in a sequestered fortress for the past thirteen years. And while it was a luxurious enough fortress, it was still a glorified prison. One in which she was expected to keep working and working. Always making more money like the meal ticket she had forever been to her backwater family. Born into the role the instant she popped out of Queen Spears’ pert little vag. 

Ah, and speaking of Queen Spears’ aptitude for birthing, like most princesses, Brit Brit had an evil stepsister. Or, more unfortunately, an evil sister. Her name was Jamie Lynn and she lived in a posh condo in Florida surrounded by snakes that kept any unwanted intruders at bay. Especially any supporters of Princess Britney who might come sniffing around to investigate who had really paid for this palatial condo. Princess Britney’s other sibling, Bryan, had styled himself into some kind of “manager/producer” role in order to make himself seem legitimate in the eyes of the court where King and Queen Spears sat on their high and mighty thrones. The ones that looked too gaudy to be tasteful. But then, you know what they say about money not being able to buy taste. 

As time went on, Princess Britney resigned herself to a life spent in enslavement. She was too prideful and fearful to make her story heard. Plus, she was scared of losing even more access to her beloved prince children. Often, even when she tried to communicate some extent of how bad it was, King Spears had one of his guards confiscate her burner phone. She was not to have friends, acquaintances or a life of any kind outside “the business of being Britney.” Which remained highly lucrative until 2019, when Princess Britney had at last burned the candle at both ends for too long and made the announcement that she would not be carrying forth with another Vegas residency as planned. It was a great relief to her, for she didn’t like spending time in that kingdom very much. At the same time, she knew there would be some sort of lashing consequence for her getting this break. That’s when they started pumping her full of lithium. On the plus side, a particular army had been gathering their ammunition after spending a sizable amount of time collecting information from Princess Britney. Most notably from Her Royal Instagram, peppered with telltale symbolism and cries for help. To them, it was like a modern day carrier pigeon except actually way less direct with messaging. 

Then one day, something finally happened. Well, it was many days that led up to this one. Yet just like all “watershed moments,” the dam is broken after months or years of hard work. Britney’s slaves, er, army (let’s just say they’re willing slaves for Britney) had been toiling tirelessly. Almost as tirelessly as Britney for her oppressor father. They had been digging deeper and deeper into the ostensible “conspiracy” behind Princess Britney being locked in a tower. Dubbing themselves the #FreeBritney movement, they secured major attention for their cause when a podcast called Britney’s Gram received a voicemail from an anonymous source familiar with Princess Britney’s legal case. Informing them that Princess Britney had been placed into a mental facility against her will (as usual), it created an avalanche, with the army members rallying to deliver their war cries. 

Their strength was something that Princess Britney fed on, giving her the courage to speak to an inept and middling local judge who had been in King Spears’ back pocket for quite some time. This middling little non-royal held as much—if not more—power than King Spears himself due to the strange legal system in the Kingdom of California. Princess Britney nonetheless bared her soul to this stoic being, who gurgled some placation to the imprisoned princess before she was once again escorted back to her cage, where the army could only glean communications through Her Royal Instagram. While things still felt hopeless for Princess Britney, other members of the royal community began to step forward in defense of Her Majesty, including Queen Madonna, Princess Christina, Princess Miley and Queen Cher. The powerful forces gathering momentum in her favor led to a small crack of light in Princess Britney’s world of darkness. A knight in shining armor named Sir Rosengart (to be honest, Princess Britney had a bit of a crush on him, for it was her psychological condition to be drawn to men she believed could rescue her) was also employed as her new legal counsel. He was of more use, admittedly, to Princess Britney than her present “sweetheart,” Sir Asghari. A man that many people still suspected of having ulterior motives with regard to his “love.” Then again, anyone who interfaced with him could see that he was a bit too “simple” for such machinations.

Despite all the “Sirs” in Princess Britney’s life claiming to be her salvation, however, this is that rare breed of fairy tale: one where there is no prince that comes to the princess’ rescue. Instead it is her legion of devout followers. The ones whose lives she’s touched with her beneficence. Because Britney is no common princess, it’s only natural that she should have such an offbeat fairy tale—filled with the freak shows, trolls, misfits and miscreants that no other fairy tale has even half the amount of. While Britney is not fully out of her gilded prison just yet, her hair (still made mostly of extensions now) is halfway out the window, and soon the army will climb up and bust her out. That is, if King Spears doesn’t shave her head again and frame it as another instance of Princess Britney gone “mad.”

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