October 06, 2008

The Tale of Lesser Cinderella

(If you're looking for something inspiring, this is not it.)

For Aureen, the original Cinderella. I love you, you fat little pudding. :-P

Lesser Cinderella was walking down the road dejectedly after class when "POOF", a hideous old witch appeared. Her faded, tattered once-black dress hung about her large frame like a maternity gown doesn't fit on a child of two. She had seven protruding teeth and all the signs and symptoms of a chronic drug addict.
Aaaahh, I'm very scared, said Lesser Cinderella rolling her eyes. Who are you, some homeless person on coke?
Yeah, right. I'm your fairy godmother, in a manner of speaking, said the witch. Though the bloodlines got a little mixed over the centuries.
Eww, gross, said Lesser Cinderella. Do you ever read Vogue? Or, assuming your manner of clothing parallels your education, have you flipped through the pictures? Seriously, woman, take some pride in your appearance.
Darling, have you looked in the mirror lately? You don't look so unlike Dave Chappelle either, said Fairy Godmother smirking in a singularly unpleasant way.
What the hell are you doing appearing at five in the evening? Where were you when my misfortunes befell me? Anyhow, how many wishes and shit do i get?, asked Lesser Cinderella with a sense of urgency.
Oh please, do I look like my great-great-great-great grandmother to you? We have laws against magic these days. Too much trouble, said Fairy Godmother with a sigh.
Just my luck. Then why are you here? Do you at least reduce cellulite?, asked Lesser Cinderella very hopefully. You could almost see the cellulite quivering.
Nope. I don't break professional rules. I'm struggling through menopause and a triple mortgage. My husband left me to live in the Zoo with a particularly masculine giraffe and my teenage son listens to Britney. I keep thinking my vibrator is a magic broomstick and the goldfish looks like a black cat but that could just be the LSD talking. I'm a mess. She paused for breath.
Hmmm, I can see that. Do you know Vogue says NEVER to pair bare feet with torn skirts? Soooo not cool. Anyway, what do you want me to do about your problems?, asked Lesser Cinderella coldly.
There's nothing you can do, said Fairy Godmother. Except pray. Eat healthy, live right. Exercise some. Play good basketball. Life's a bitch. She vanished.
Lesser Cinderella walked back to her room, ate spoonfuls of Nutella, wondered about the Universe and fell asleep. She woke up the next morning, and the cellulite was still there. She felt completely herself again.

Lesser Cinderella was going to class one morning. She had forgotten to brush her teeth and hair and she was wearing her loud leopard-print bedroom slippers by accident but she was feeling happy. Something good was going to happen today. She might even, if extremely lucky, get through the day without ANYTHING happening. Those were the best days. Suddenly, "POOF", and there appeared Prince Charming. Oh no, she thought. I thought my Fairy Godmother was the only one who did this ridiculous dramatic entrance-exit thing.
Hello, she said. What can I do for you?
He was dressed in a green suit with too many buttons. He looked like a button salesman. He was short, almost midget-like. His hair was almost absent, and he stuttered when he spoke. He was also devastatingly handsome. So devastating in fact, that he wore a mask made to look like Queen Latifah's face.
I am Prince Charming, said he. But you can call me Lil P for short.
All right then, Lil Weird Prince Person, why are you looking at me like that?, asked Lesser Cinderella irritably. She had a migraine.
I am looking for your hand in marriage, Lesser Cinderella, he said imperiously. I am the Lesser Prince you see. It's a cruel pun, because it refers to my height. But that was what the Prophet called me before he died.
Which prophet?, asked curious Lesser Cinderella. She always seemed to be asking the questions. Never mind, actually. I don't care. So, what's the plan?
To fit the shoes on your feet of course. Don't you know the freaking story? What did you read when you were young...Penthouse? Okay, here is the shoe. Now put your foot in it (literally), and we can be married in the morning.
Oh, Lil Prince Lesser Whatever, said Lesser Cinderella sighing. Her cynicism disappeared. I never thought I would meet you. I already met First Love and Three-Week Guy but I guess you are the real deal. I haven't kissed anyone in more than a year. Please remove me from this dry spell, pun intended.
I will, dear Lesser Cinderella. Our kiss at the altar tomorrow will break your spell. If the shoes fit, said Lil P kindly.
The shoes fit.
They went back to wherever they came from, because the marriage would be the next morning, and there was no point having sex when they could just wait a day. He went to a fictitious land and she to her room. They slept soundly. All was well.
The next morning, as they were about to be wed, Lil P looked up and his jaw dropped.
Who IS that stunning girl in the front row? She looks like a lingerie model. DAMN, he exclaimed.
Oh, Paris? She's my step-sister. She agreed to come for the wedding despite having to cancel shooting an ad for Victoria's Secret. Why?, asked Cinderella. But she already knew why. Her inferior complex came up like the rising tide and turned her tiara green and blue, tie-n-dye style.
Lil P wasn't listening. He was already approaching Paris as if in a dream.
Nooooooo, come back, shouted Lesser Cinderella. You're going to be mine to cherish and to hold.
Never, shouted Lil P. I will marry your step-sister and make her happy. I will love her and keep her in sickness and health. If you stop me, I'll make you give those shoes back, I swear it.
Lesser Cinderella stopped dead in her tracks. Those shoes were Manolo Blahniks, the kind they kept talking about in the Sex and the City.
All right, you win, she said. We live in a materialistic world, and her budget graph currently pointed firmly at no shoes.
Paris took her place.
Lesser Cinderella hugged her and said, everything works out for good.
Paris laughed her practiced model laugh and said yes, I'm sure he's the One you know. I feel it in my gorgeous body.
Lesser Cinderella shrugged. One was as good as the other, probably. She wouldn't know. The ceremony went on. They looked comical, what with the height difference and all, but what does that matter in the matters of the heart?
The only remarkable incident was when Paris said "I do" to Lil P in such a seductive voice that the minister had a breakdown and had to be replaced.
The food was good. The wine was okay. The dancing was so-so. Lesser Cinderella drank a lot and thought that either Pimply Guy or Pink Shoe Guy or even Too-Metro-Has-to-be-Gay Guy might be the One. She gave them all her number. They all misplaced it. It was a delightful evening.
That night, cradling her shoes, Lesser Cinderella ate many spoonfuls of Nutella, wondered about the Universe and went to sleep. The next morning, the shoes were still there. And Lesser Cinderella felt completely herself again.


Lesser Cinderella was having a beer at the pub when Normal Funny Guy bumped into her. Hey, do you want to marry me?, he asked. It was a casual question, just in case rejection got too hard to bear. It deserved a casual answer. No, she replied, gathered the money she was going to leave as a tip and left in a hurry. That night, Lesser Cinderella thought about the Universe and tried to eat spoonfuls of Nutella. But it was over and the shops were closed. She sat brooding morosely on the economy of the country, and the vital role chocolate spread played in it. She started to think about the Universe some more. It was then that it dawned on her. Normal Funny Guy might just be worth a try. She lived in the real world, and she knew that fairy tales are make-believe, just like Snoop Dogg says. Unless you're Paris of course. Except... Paris was now fat, smoked too much and had three dwarf kids that looked just like Lil P. Hmmm. She started turning the Yellow Pages.
Five years later, Lesser Cinderella married Normal Funny Guy who suddenly discovered that it was love that made the world go round, broke it down into lovetrons and sold it in strange-looking bottles at exorbitant prices. He became a billionaire overnight and bought Lesser Cinderella many shoes. Except Manolo Blahniks. He couldn't stand those. And they lived happily ever after. Honest. They did. The moral of the story really is, these things happen.

1 comment:

Djarabia said...

If only the people u mentioned were on celluloid.. its amazing how fantastic the days of 'our'lives are!!! (Pun intended)

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