Meghan wants her own crown – NOW!

Despite media reports saying she wouldn’t attend the coronation, Meghan Markle, or Merkle or MarkieMark, made an unexpected appearance. She stood, biting her tongue, as she gazed at the grandeur, trying to resist the urge to shout to the flying buttresses, “Where’s my crown!”

Meghan didn’t appreciate the fact that everyone seemed to be receiving a crown, a hand grenade, or a sceptre—everyone except for her.

“Harry! Do something!” she pleaded.

Although Harry made an effort, he’s still low on the family totem pole. (Andrew’s lower, but he didn’t receive a crown either.) As the black sheep of the family, nobody would listen to him. (No comment… sometimes black just means, well, black… nothing more, the Royal Watchers assure this reporter.)

“I want a crown! I want a crown NOW! Heads will roll!” Meghan’s voice echoed behind the scenes, where the rich and flowing robes were en route to the dry cleaners.

In a moment of desperation, she snatched a crown from a suit of armor or perhaps a mannequin. However, it was several sizes too small—fit for a long-lost British king named His Royal and Esteemed King of the Royal Garter and Seams and Knickers, Lord and Prince of Wales and Other Territories (apologies, this list goes on… these people needed 45 names to distinguish themselves from the other royal gits, who were, well, rather inbred), His Highness, Reggie the Tiny.

Alas, Reggie’s crown would never fit on Meghan’s head.

“I want my own country! My own castle! My own War of the Roses! My own Reign of Terror!”

The chant echoed through the stone halls until she was swiftly escorted into a bulletproof limo, eventually returning to America in her private jet, destined for Bel Air. There, everyone is as royal as they feel, and crowns are five for a dollar.