Act I

“Let down your golden hair.”

Rapunzal released her honey tresses, letting them fall in cascades of golden light, welcoming the visitor to her tower prison. Her caller, the prince of a small kingdom, foreign, far away, and only a dream to her, he would be her savior, her conqueror. Birds sang in the trees that could only imagine the heights of the monolithic building, a sound that carried the distance and made the sun shine all the brighter for its cheerfulness.

“Ow!” The princess exclaimed, “You’re not really a’posta use my hair.”

“Sorry,” Hilde sincerely apologized after accidentally pulling some strands that had slipped from Relena’s sloppy braid when the chair she was standing on wobbled.

None of the boys had eagerly seized the chance to play Prince for Relena, in fact Heero, her true intended champion, had flat out and loudly refused, and so the task fell to Hilde, who didn’t mind at all.

“I haf come to save you,” the valiant Prince Hilde announced after gaining the inner sanctum of the tower.

“But how, my prince?” Relena batted her eyelashes.

“We'll cut off your hair and both climb down.”

“No, you can’t do that,” bemoaned the forlorn princess.

Hilde stood on tiptoe craning her neck, “What’s that sound?”

“Oh, no! You must hide ‘medially.” Rapunzal Relena frantically searched for a place to conceal her Prince Hilde.

Act II

One solitary tumbleweed crossed the open desert. A piercing and mighty cry rent the big Texan sky, filling the people of the mission with fear. They would soon be under siege fighting not only for their lives, but their country, their freedom.

Outside the adobe fortress the inspiring General gave the command to his fearsome battalions.

“Charge!”

Horses whinnied as the riders urged them to go faster, planting firmly booted heels viciously into their sides.

“Hey! What are you doin’?” Cerulean eyes looked condemningly over the wall.

“No one yells charge in Rap-un-zull.” Another pair of eyes peered down.

Duo pointed to Heero and told the two ignorant girls, “He’s Curn-all Mustard and they always yell charge afore they attack.”

“He is not a cornel,” Relena debated, pointedly. “He’s the dragon who comes to kidnap Rapunsil.”

“She’s right,” Heero agreed, “I’m not Curn-all Mustard.”

“See.”

Heero rolled his eyes and continued, “I’m Gen’rill Custard, an' I’m takin' over the ala mode. So surrender.”

Hilde stomped her foot, “This is not the ella mode. We’re playin’ Rap-un- zull. And you are freed dragons.”

“There are no dragons in Rapunzal and no we’re not,” Duo shot back.

“There are now, we ‘proved the story,” Relena retorted in defense of her friend.

“Nu-uh!”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“What’s all the hubbub bub?” Hilde’s uncle called over the noise.

Abandoning the Alamo/tower the chibis gathered around Howard, voicing their many complaints all at once.

Act III

Sweet perfumes carried on the warm breeze, mingled with the other odors of the crowded market place. The voices of the many venders washed over the sea of shoppers as they called out their wares.

Their open-faced stall was like all the others, a striped tarp roof providing what little relief it could from the blazing Arabian sun. Wedged between much larger and vociferous competition, the young brothers tried to sell their stock of fruit.

“Sugar dates! Sugar dates an’ palm-granites! Sugar dates an’ palm-granites an’ melons!” The dulcet tones of the blond brother called out.

“Fresh melon, ripe melon... umm,” The second used his marketing skills to draw attention to the small stand, “Watermelon.”

A dark-eyed, dark-haired foreigner watched the stall from the corner of the dirty street.

“Looks like you lose,” Howard informed the four chibis whining to him.

The box that had served as both the Alamo and Rapunzel’s tower had been turned on its side. Two bent flaps held up a third to make it look like a sloping cover. The chairs, previously occupying a space on the outside and one inside, now sat on the rim.

“What?”

“But…”

“Hey!”

Howard again left the chibis to their own devices.

“What’cha sellin’?” Duo asked of the blond vender. He easily adapted to this new game.

“We’ve got watermelon an’ str-burries and lot’sa stuff,” Quatre answered, waving a hand over the bins of goods (open-lidded lunch boxes sitting on the ground and chairs.)

“Melody said we can have our lunches outside today,” Trowa supplied.

“But we were playin’ somfin’ else,” Hilde explained, feeling slightly betrayed by Duo’s readiness to change.

“Oh Pum’kin,” Relena rejoiced, “We can have a Romanical picnic.”

With that she deemed the brief difficulties over the box's identity solved.

Act IV

“Thief, thief!”

The infamous art thief ran from the Imperial Palace. He had done it, done what every aspiring crook dreamt of; he had taken both of the handcrafted, heavily jeweled, extremely valuable, and ancient royal family heirlooms. An enormously difficult feat, one that had already been noticed, but if he was cautious and lucky, very lucky, he would soon be on a jet heading to his villa on the French Riviera.

He mischievously curled his mustache with a villainous and devious air. The guards could be heard puzzling over what had happened. Expertly their leader examined the robbed room.

“Hey! That’s mine,” Heero called after the chibi when he noticed whose lunchbox had been pilfered. The messy-haired boy gave chase to the would-be-great thief Wufei.

The other chibis followed into their yard to see what would happen between the two boys.

“Give it!”

“No one can catch the amazing Fandom Thief."

“You wanna bet,” Heero retuned, running right behind Wufei; who turned out to be a very unlucky robber, apprehended on his first heist.

“We’re not ‘posed to fight,” Quatre admonished.

“You’re gonna get in trouble,” Trowa warned the two; and sure enough the commotion had caught the attention of their webmommie.

“If you don’t stop, I’ll make you come inside,” Melody dished out her ultimatum.