Sunday, 4 April 2010
To all you children's writers out there, I apologize for this one.
From Tales of Brother Goose
Once upon a time, there was a gentleman who married the meanest lady in the land. She had two daughters from a previous marriage. They were considered by everybody to be just like their mother. The man had only one young daughter from his previous marriage. She was a kind and gentle soul and, therefore, was much prettier than her two stepsisters.
After the wedding, the stepmother began to unleash her fury on her new young daughter, who made her own daughters seem rotten by comparison. The stepmother gave the young girl all the worst jobs in the house; she was forced to clean the feces off her dinner plate, scrub the urine out of her drinking glass, and try her damnedest to get the stains out of her parents’ bed sheets. The poor girl was commanded to sleep on the floor in the dingy basement, while her sisters slept in nice warm beds in clean rooms. She had endured the abuse as long as she could until she finally retreated to her father for help. Her father told her he wanted to help, but he was powerless to do anything because he suffered from a debilitating disorder called pussywhippedness. She did not know what that was, but felt that it must be a horrible affliction for her father did not look well.
After her chores were finished, she would sit by the fireplace among the cinders. One day, her sisters were trying to think of a way to humiliate her. They soon started calling her Cinderwhore, which eventually turned into Cinderella.
The next week, the King’s son the Prince invited the most fashionable sphincters in the land to a party. It may sound funny now but in those days “sphincter” was a respectable term meaning “the crack part of the ass”. Cinderella’s sisters were invited. The invitation excited them so that they spent all the day fussing over which gowns and hairstyles suited them the finest. Poor Cinderella was ordered to help her sisters get ready for the party by ironing their gowns and dressing their hair, though she was only allowed to wear rags herself.
“Cinderella, wouldn’t you like to go to the party?” asked one of the sisters.
“Why, you’re messing with me,” said Cinderella. “I could never go to such an event.”
“You’re right,” they said. “People would laugh if they saw Cinderwhore there.”
Anybody else would have dressed their hair in such a way to make them look ridiculous, but Cinderella, due to her good nature and cowardice, made their hair look very nice for the party.
That night, the sisters went off to the dance, leaving Cinderella to cry and cry. Her godmother tried to comfort her, asking, “You wish to go to the party, don’t you?”
Cinderella, still in tears, nodded.
“I’ll fix you up,” said the godmother, who was a fairy when she was not busy being a godmother.
“Go get me a pumpkin from the garden,” she told Cinderella, who could not figure out how a pumpkin was going to help in the situation.
Cinderella brought the pumpkin to her straightaway, and the godmother touched it with her magic wand. Suddenly, it turned into a coach.
“Now, grab me that mouse trap,” she said. “We need horses for the coach.”
Cinderella did as she was told and lifted the trap door. Her godmother touched the mice with the wand and turned them into horses.
“Who is going to drive the coach?” asked Cinderella.
“Go to the closet,” replied the godmother.
Cinderella went to the closet and opened it. There was a man inside bound and gagged on the floor. Now, it appeared they had everything they needed.
“What about my clothes?” asked Cinderella, whose apparel consisted of mere rags.
Her godmother touched her with the wand, which turned the rags into a beautiful dress that was far more stylish than her sisters’ dresses. Then, she gave Cinderella the prettiest glass slippers in the world and a diaphragm. By strict law, pregnancy outside of wedlock resulted in the death of the godparents.
As Cinderella entered the carriage, her godmother told her not to stay out past midnight for when the clock strikes twelve o’clock, her coach will become a pumpkin, her horses will be mice again, her clothes will turn back into rags, and her diaphragm will remain intact.
Cinderella thanked her sincerely and then rode off to the party. When she arrived, the party was crowded with all kinds of sphincters. As soon as she entered the room, however, everybody turned to look. “Who was this beautiful princess?” they all thought. The King himself even whispered to the Queen that he had not seen such a beautiful lady in a very long time, and the Queen even whispered to the King that he would not be getting any sex that night.
Cinderella made her way onto the dance floor. She moved like a sick baboon with hemorrhoids, considering she had never danced before. This did not bother the crowd, though, who still marveled at the lovely young woman. When she was done dancing, she approached her two sisters knowing she had to be careful not to reveal her identity.
“Say,” they said. “You look just like our stepsister. What’s your name?”
“Cinderella,” she replied.
“What a coincidence,” they said. “Our stepsister’s name is Cinderella.”
Cinderella breathed a sigh of relief. They did not suspect a thing. The Prince was another admirer of hers that evening. He could look at nothing else. Finally, when the opportunity presented itself, he approached her.
“Excuse me,” he said. “Are you Cinderella?”
“Well, that’s not my real name,” she said. “That’s just what my sisters call me.”
“Oh, what’s your real name?”
“I see,” said the Prince. “Well, would you like to dance, Cinderella?”
“Of course,” she replied happily.
They danced many times that evening. Suddenly, Cinderella heard the clock strike a quarter to twelve. She quickly left the Prince’s arms and fled the castle. When her sisters returned home later, Cinderella pretended that she had been sleeping the whole night and yawned.
“How was the party?” she asked.
“It was bitchin,” they said. “There was this princess there who looked like you, except she was prettier and smarter. The Prince was really hot for her too. After she left, he was asking if anybody knew her.”
Cinderella was ecstatic to hear this, though she hid her excitement well.
The next night, the stepsisters went to another party at the castle with Cinderella inconspicuously close behind, dressed again in the highest fashion. The Prince was overjoyed that Cinderella had returned. He barely left her alone all night. Cinderella was having such a splendid evening that she did not notice the time until one minute before midnight. She suddenly ran in the direction of the door at the Prince’s bewilderment. He quickly followed her out of the castle but lost her in the dark. However, she left behind her diaphragm for it had fallen out of her purse.
The next day, the Prince officially announced that he would marry the lady who fit the diaphragm perfectly. The King had men travel the countryside with the diaphragm to fit every woman in the land. They found no matches. Finally, they reached Cinderella’s house and tried it on her two sisters but the diaphragm was too small for them. The King’s men decided to try it on Cinderella for she was very attractive. To their astonishment, the diaphragm fit perfectly. The men rejoiced that they had found the Prince’s mysterious lady.
The King’s men took Cinderella, dressed as she was in rags, to the King’s palace and brought her before the Prince. The Prince was delighted to see her finally and asked why she hid from him. Cinderella told the Prince that she feared if he saw her in rags that he might lose his love for her. The Prince chuckled.
“I’m not that shallow,” he said, “I don’t love your clothes, Cinderella. I love your body.”
They were married a couple days later in a beautiful ceremony. After a few years, the Prince became King. During his reign, he went crazy and began committing genocide against his own people. When Cinderella’s father learned that he, his wife, and the two sisters were in line for execution like the rest of the common folk, he went to Cinderella for help. Alas, Cinderella had come down with a severe case of dickwhippedness, and regretfully could do nothing for them.
by : Brett Nicholas Moore
From : http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewshortstory.asp?id=23083