A Christmas Prince

Get a load of my next piece.

"Ugly Christmas Sweaters of the Stars." It's gonna be brilliant, I tell you.

- -Excuse me, Ron.

-Uh, not now. -No, this'll just take a second.

I just had a couple of questions about your article,

the Fashion Week piece that I'm editing.

Uh... go.

Well, see, the thing is that Max wanted 300 words, and this is 650.

And one of the designers you quoted wasn't even on the floor, so...

Amber, I don't have time for this right now. Just clean it up.

It's not just a clean-up, it's a major rewrite.

What are you, the executive editor now?

-No, I'm just trying to explain that... -Just fix it, okay?

That went well.

Let me guess. You're gonna rewrite his stinky old article and save his butt.

-Just like you always do. -Well, it is my job.

-You could tell him where to put it. -I'm not telling him anything.

Amber, we're junior editors, not writers.

Well, how else am I supposed to become a real journalist?

-You'll get there. -Of course you will.

Five rejection letters in a month.

Hardly killing it on the freelance writing market.

Amber, Max wants to see you in her office, now.

Have fun.

Now Beat Magazine, how may I help you?

If this is about Ron's article about Fashion Week...

Forget Fashion Week. I got something else for you.

Sit.

So, what do you know about the Royal Family of Aldovia?

Aldovia?

Wait, the king died last year,

and the prince who's supposed to take over is a total flake.

Flake, international playboy,

and scandalous socialite.

Playboy Prince Richard took off before Daddy died,

which wouldn't be a problem,

except they have this interregnum thing.

-The time between two reigns? -Right.

In Aldovia, it's a maximum of a year, which is about to expire.

So, they need a butt in the big chair by Christmas Day.

But if the prince is MIA, then what happens?

That's exactly what you're gonna find out.

His Royal Hotness is due back this weekend.

But just in case he abdicates,

I need somebody there to capture the fireworks.

They got a press conference scheduled for the 18th,

and I need boots on the ground.

I don't mean to shoot myself in the foot, but why me?

You're talented, hungry, smart.

And none of my regular writers can go this week.

This guy is your assignment?

He thinks he's so hot.

- Mm, another secret girlfriend. - Gross.

-What a creep. - Chill out. He's like a 12.

Not my type.

-Honey, he's everyone's type. -Not mine.

If I set you up with one more hot, successful guy who you blow off

-I'm gonna punch you, girl. - Ouch.

I'm just not on the market.

You and Brian broke up, what, a year ago?

You can't let him make you gun-shy.

Can we just not talk about my love life right now?

Seriously, Amb, this assignment could jumpstart your career.

Merry Christmas!

Hey, guys. How's the pie?

-Rudy, do we even need to say anything? -The best.

That's what we like to hear.

Got my regular up?

Yeah. We got a Coney Island bloodhound and a blonde with sand.

That'll be $4.95.

Put it on my tab.

-What, you think you're special? -Maybe just a little bit.

-Thanks, Pop. -Okay.

Hey, listen. Christmas Eve, instead of doing our regular corn dogs,

I was thinking maybe I'll make a big batch of my famous five-alarm chili.

You know, it was your mom's favorite.

What? Amb, what?

-My editor has given me a story to cover. -Your own story?

It's about the royal family of Aldovia.

The prince, he's a bit of a playboy. He might even abdicate.

Peanut, this sounds like it's gonna be your big break.

Yeah, but the thing is, I'd have to be away through Christmas.

And I know that you'd be alone. I just--

Sounds like you need a bit of Fatherly Advice 101.

When me and your mom opened this place,

there were a million reasons why not to, but your mom said, "Rudy,

you gotta take a chance."

-So you're telling me to open a diner? -Ha. No.

I'm telling you to stay true to your dreams, all right?

And success will follow.

-Huh? That's good, right? -Sounds like a fortune cookie.

All right. Anyway, the point is, you gotta take a risk if you're gonna win.

So don't worry about your old man. I'll be fine, all right?

-You go over there to Aldi-whatnot-- -Aldovia.

Aldovia, that's it.

And you make us proud.

All right.

Still $4.95, though.

When's the prince supposed to arrive?

An hour ago. Maybe he's missed his flight.

Probably shacked up with some countess somewhere.

Excuse me.

-I'm sorry, I really have to go. -No, but this is my cab.

-I apologize. -You can't just do that.

Selfish jerk!

- - That man just took her cab.

Seriously, can you believe that guy?

Who does he think he is?

-First time? -Hm?

-First time covering the royals? -First time covering anything.

-Any words of wisdom? -Pick a new career.

Huh.

Wow.

Will he even show up this time?

Oh, come on. What's taking so long?

Yeah!

Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for coming today.

I realize you've traveled a great distance to be here,

but I'm sorry to announce

we're going to have to cancel the press conference.

Prince Richard is... unavailable at this time.

-More like he's avoiding the press. - Yeah!

Does this mean that the prince is abdicating the throne?

I can assure you, his coronation is very much on schedule,

and will take place at the annual Christmas Eve Ball.

-Then where is he? - Yeah!

Uh, the polite young lady with the red scarf.

When are you rescheduling the press conference?

-Yeah, she's right! -Yeah!

We, uh, don't have any plans for that at this time.

Is it possible to arrange an interview with Prince Richard?

There will be no interviews with the prince.

Thank you so much for coming.

King Richard wouldn't have done this. Come on!

-Hey! -

Talk about a real jerk-around.

Should've known it would happen with this guy. What a waste.

-Drinks on me back at the hotel? -All right.

I can't go home empty-handed.

Wow.

May I help you?

No. No, I... Yes.

I was supposed to be...

Ah.

American.

Excuse me?

You must be the new American tutor for Princess Emily.

Yes.

That's me, the tutor.

Very good. Follow me, please.

The garlands go above the fireplace in the drawing room,

and the queen wants more poinsettias in the atrium.

-Yes, ma'am. -Mrs. Averill?

Princess Emily's new tutor has arrived.

Martha Anderson?

That's me. Pleased to meet you.

Oh.

I thought your agency said

you weren't available till the first of the year?

I wasn't, but then my last assignment ended early, so...

So you thought you'd just show up... here.

Two weeks early.

Sorry, I know that it...

I can leave, if it was a bad idea.

The queen did mention that she wished she had someone

to occupy Princess Emily over the holidays.

-Her last tutor left rather abruptly. -What happened?

That's no concern of yours.

Something about a mouse in her bed.

Come with me, please.

-Where's your luggage? -At the inn.

-I'll have somebody fetch it for you. -No, no, that's okay. I can get it.

I'm surprised you were able to find a room with all the press in town.

Parasites, the lot of them.

Scum of the earth.

-Queen Helena will want to meet you. -The queen?

I trust you're familiar with our royal etiquette,

so you must not shake Her Majesty's hand, but you may curtsy.

Curtsy?

-I needed some time to think. - You've had time, Richard.

You can't keep missing these official engagements.

-Yes, Mother. -Not anymore.

You.