Queen Elizabeth II Smokes with Grandson Prince Harry
When Prince Harry knocked on the door to Queen Elizabeth II’s chambers, he could already smell the goodness tickling his nostrils like an old friend.
From within came an answering cough, “Enter!” Harry opened one of the double doors and smoke engulfed him like a fog, a sweet, sweet fog.
The last time he was summoned to the Queen’s chambers in Buckingham Palace, Donald Trump was coming to England. She always invited her grandson, knowing full well he’d join her smoke session.
“What is it, grandmummy?” asked Harry. He shut the chamber door preserving the cloud. Queen Elizabeth II sat upright on her bed, legs crossed proper, and a joint between her gloved fingers.
“Oh the colonies, again. Pain in my arse.” Harry sat on the dressing table chair. Without a word, Queen Elizabeth II passes her grandson the joint. He inhaled, gulped the air again, exhaled. The royals always got the good shit, he thought, better than rappers. Smooth and sweet, Harry took another pull. He passed it back to the Queen.
“You know,” she began. Harry waited. “I don’t understand.”
“Understand what, grandmummy?”
Her majesty stared at the burning roach between her fingers. A smile grew slowly across her face, her eyes squinted. “Honestly, darling, my mind is working faster when I’m stoned than Spicer’s capabilities to remove the foot from his mouth.” The room was full of smoke and the royal ashtray showed Harry this was not his grandmother’s first of the day.
Queen Elizabeth held out her hand delicately and Prince Harry helped her stand from the bed. Joint in hand, she shuffled to the window. It was a gray day in London, but the tourists were out, staring through the iron gate searching in vain for a glimpse of the Queen.
Elizabeth II took a pull, her eyes welled up. “Look at them,” she coughed. “They miss me.” She watched people smoosh their faces against the gate.
Cameras raised to get a clear picture of the palace without the annoyance of other people’s heads. Tourists from all around the world; French, Japanese, Italian, German, Filipino, Australian, Brazilian, and of course, the Americans.
“It’s a good thing we gave them up when we did, don’t you agree, darling?”
Prince Harry hesitated. “They’re not all bad…” he said thinking of Meghan waiting back in his chambers as he went to visit the Queen on ‘official business.’
“Ah, yes. You have the American girlfriend now. You’re just as forward thinking as my uncle, dear grandson, and look where that got him.” The smile crept back and the Queen laughed, quiet and posh, “heh heh heh.”
Queen Elizabeth II turned from the window, away from the tourists, away from her subjects and looked her grandson in the eyes. “I may have been a young woman when Hitler was in power, hiding in the comfort of my royalty, but even I’m not that daft.” She took a drag. “It’s ghastly.”