Once or twice upon a time there was a princess. Her name was Paris, after Paris, Texas where she was born (because it was the only place where her mother succeeded to find a decent hotel). As soon as she reached puberty the princess felt an urge for carrots. Every day she went to the market looking for the freshest carrots. One day a grocer asked her

“What do you do with all those carrots? Do you cook them?”

“No,” she said “when I cook them they become too soft. I like them hard.”

“So what do you do with them?” the seller insisted.

“Mind your own business,” the princess became irritated. “This is between me and my pussy.”

“You have a pussy?” the seller continued “What’s its name?”

“None of your bizwax,” the princess replied.

“And what is its middle name?” the seller asked, but the princess was already gone, rushing back to the palace with a basket full of fresh carrots and went straight to the bathroom because she was dying to piss. One day, as she was pissing, she heard the crowing of a frog coming from the basket. She bent over and searched the basket and, lo and behold, she did find a frog there. The frog looked very old and had wrinkles all over. The princess was about to kiss it but the frog said

“You are not going to kiss me, I hope.”

“But I want to,” the princess said “This is my only chance to marry a prince.”

“Look at me,” the frog said “Do you want an old prince like me? You don’t need a prince at all. What you need is a donkey.”

“But donkeys are stubborn,” the princess said “They won’t listen to me.”

“And the carrots do?” asked the frog.

“At least they don’t complain,” the princess replied.

“But do they satisfy you?” the frog questioned.

“Oh yeh,” the princess said “Look at the plastic bag. It says satisfaction guaranteed.”

and the rest is physiology.

* Dedicated to the memory of my friend Israel Perry who forgot to answer my letters.