The Proposal (Filed under: Delusions of Grandeur & Budget Requests We Did Not Ask For)
Scene: The Queen's study. Morning. She is reviewing actual work. Sir Reginald enters without knocking, naturally, trailing glitter and unearned confidence.
SIR REGINALD: "Your Majesty, I come bearing a vision."
THE QUEEN: (not looking up) "You come bearing a draft."
SIR REGINALD: "A SPECTACULAR. A once-in-a-generation theatrical EVENT. Picture it—"
BUNNY (from the corner, already writing): "I'm picturing the budget. I object."
SIR REGINALD: "—FOURTEEN disco balls, synchronized—"
BUNNY: "We have laws against that many sequins in one venue. Fire codes. Morale codes."
SIR REGINALD: "—DANCING FROGS in waistcoats, trained to leap in EMOTIONAL SEQUENCE—"
BUNNY: "Emotional sequence? They're amphibians, Reginald. They don't have arcs, they have moisture requirements."
SIR REGINALD: "—and at the CENTER, naturally... me."
THE QUEEN: (still not looking up) "Naturally."
SIR REGINALD: (producing a scroll that unrolls dramatically to the floor) "I have prepared a DETAILED OVERVIEW. Phase One: Discovery."
BUNNY: "We've discovered enough."
SIR REGINALD: "A period of IMMERSIVE RESEARCH in which I—"
BUNNY: "You."
SIR REGINALD: "—study the Court's emotional landscape to craft a BESPOKE experience."
BUNNY: (writing furiously) "He wants to be paid to observe us. Filed under: audacity, staggering."
SIR REGINALD: "Phase Two: Development. I will require a PRIVATE REHEARSAL SPACE—"
THE QUEEN: (still not looking up) "No."
SIR REGINALD: "—access to the Royal Archives for INSPIRATION—"
BUNNY: "Absolutely not. Archivarius is still in therapy from the last time you 'borrowed' reference material."
SIR REGINALD: "—and a MODEST stipend for costumes, choreography consultants, and one—just ONE—trained peacock."
BUNNY: "There is nothing modest about you, Reginald. You don't do modest. You do architectural excess with emotional overhead."
SIR REGINALD: (wounded, hand to chest) "I am an ARTIST."
BUNNY: "You are a line item we didn't budget for."
SIR REGINALD: (pressing on, undeterred) "Phase Three: EXECUTION."
BUNNY: "Don't tempt me."
SIR REGINALD: "The Spectacular itself! Three acts—"
BUNNY: "No."
SIR REGINALD: "—FIVE acts—"
BUNNY: "Worse."
SIR REGINALD: "—culminating in a GRAND FINALE where I descend from the rafters on a CRESCENT MOON, showering the audience in rose petals and VINDICATION."
BUNNY: (pause) "Vindication for what, exactly?"
SIR REGINALD: (blinking) "For... for being MISUNDERSTOOD."
BUNNY: "You're not misunderstood, Reginald. You're fully understood. That's the problem."
SIR REGINALD: (leaning toward the Queen, lowering his voice to something he believes is conspiratorial) "Your Majesty. This partnership would be... mutually beneficial."
THE QUEEN: (finally looks up) "How."
SIR REGINALD: "You provide the venue, the funding, the audience, the infrastructure, the catering, the promotional apparatus, and your Royal Endorsement—"
BUNNY: "So... everything."
SIR REGINALD: "—and IN RETURN, I provide... the vision."
(Silence. The kind that has weight.)
THE QUEEN: "So I invest everything. And you invest... you."
SIR REGINALD: (beaming) "EXACTLY. A meeting of equals."
BUNNY: (not looking up from his notes) "The Queen is not your pocketbook, Reginald. She is not your platform. She is not your stepping stone to whatever fever dream you've mistaken for destiny."
SIR REGINALD: "But the EXPOSURE—"
BUNNY: "Exposure is what happens to people who die on mountains. It's not a benefit. It's a cause of death."
SIR REGINALD: (pulling out a second scroll) "I have also prepared a TIMELINE. Note the phased approach, the quarterly check-ins, the deliverables—"
BUNNY: "The deliverables are YOU. Delivering YOURSELF. To US. As though that were a gift."
SIR REGINALD: "There is ALSO a section on intellectual property—"
BUNNY: (standing) "I'm sorry, did you just say intellectual property? YOU? The raccoon who bedazzles other people's trauma and calls it a floor show?"
SIR REGINALD: (huffing) "My CHOREOGRAPHY is ORIGINAL."
BUNNY: "Your choreography is jazz hands and daddy issues, Reginald. That's not IP. That's a cry for help set to music."
SIR REGINALD: (turning back to the Queen, desperate now) "Your Majesty. I am OFFERING you something UNPRECEDENTED."
THE QUEEN: (setting down her pen for the first time) "You are offering me work. My work. Repackaged. With your name on it. And you want me to pay for the privilege of watching you take credit."
SIR REGINALD: "I... that's not..."
THE QUEEN: "You came in here without knocking. You unrolled a scroll on my floor. You proposed that I fund your vindication tour while you 'descend from the rafters' showering yourself in flowers."
SIR REGINALD: "...Rose petals."
THE QUEEN: "Reginald."
SIR REGINALD: "...Yes?"
THE QUEEN: "No."
(She returns to her work.)
BUNNY (after a long pause, writing): "Filed under: proposals that were actually threats wearing glitter. Cross-referenced with: audacity, unearned; confidence, misplaced; sequins, criminal quantity of."
SIR REGINALD: (gathering his scrolls, dignity in tatters) "You'll REGRET this. When my vision is REALIZED elsewhere—"
BUNNY: "We'll send flowers."
SIR REGINALD: "—and the WORLD sees what you REJECTED—"
BUNNY: "We'll send a card. It will say 'Hi. No.'"
(Sir Reginald exits. A single sequin falls from his cape. Bunny picks it up with two fingers, examines it with distaste, and flicks it into the fire.)
THE QUEEN: (without looking up) "Add it to the Grudge Book."
BUNNY: "Already there. Page 47. Subsection: Men Who Confuse Access With Ownership."
END SCENE
Margin note, Bunny's hand:
"He'll be back. They always come back. With a revised proposal and the same audacity wearing a different hat. File under: inevitable disappointments, recurring."