Allow me to introduce myself. I am Princess Snark, the hot, mysterious goddess who manifests when strangers find themselves locked in a verbal battle and can’t find the proper insult to toss out for the win. By day I am a lowly paralegal, capable of more, but really kind of too lazy for that. I can be summoned at any time, day or night, by air horn indicating a “time out” from the fight. I am available day or night because again, I don’t really like my day job and wouldn’t mind getting fired. They just think I spend a lot of time in the mail room when I disappear.
You can spot me by my unusual attire. It is no secret I would not be caught dead in a frilly ball gown, or even bustier and hot pants like Wonder Woman. No, I have a selection of black pleather tummy-concealing dominatrix outfits and a massive cape with secret pockets for storing tiny bottles of alcohol. Don’t go mocking the pleather—I shun animal skin and fur products—and if I catch you mocking me I’ll whip you for it. And that will cost you extra. I also wear a Bedazzled tiara, which I made myself, because everyone needs a tiara. And who doesn’t love a crafty closeted dominatrix? Really…how am I still single?
Say for example your boss is insulting you for wearing Birkenstocks every day. Just blast your airhorn and I appear at your cubicle in a flash with a bevy of insults about your boss’ comb-over hairstyle, bad breath and need for tiny blue pills to make his microscopic penis function. BAM!
I don’t accept payment for my services; however, I never turn down gratuities in the form of red wine. And if it is good red wine, not cheap boxed stuff, you will ensure placement on my “rapid response” list. It is actually beneficial to my superhero job, because the more I drink the snarkier I become. The downside is that if I drink too much I have a hard time walking in my 5” pleather over-the-knee boots. My lack of coordination can lead to some embarrassing pratfalls, but I cover it up well with snarky insults to those who snicker at the episode.
I should warn you though that there is one force which stops my superpower cold in its track—Swedish men. For example, if you are fighting with a creepy dude in a bar and he has a hot Swedish friend? I can’t help you. I lose all ability to think and speak and will only be capable of smiling and batting some bedroom eyes. Same goes if you summon me to your workplace and I catch a glimpse of Anders, the hot guy from accounting. I’ll be too distracted and try to jump him in the break room. So please…if you are in desperate need of my services, first ensure you are in a Swede-free zone.
I’m fairly new to this superhero gig, though, so if anyone can get me an introduction to Wolverine I’ll give you a year’s worth of rescues for free.
This is Princess Snark saying peace out, and may you always find the right insult to verbally castrate your enemies!