A Cinderella Story

Once there lived a Cinderella.

Just as each Cinderella should, at the age of 18, she met a prince. To her, he seemed the best of all men, for he was wealthy, good-looking, wealthy, wealthy, smart, wealthy and, moreover, extremely wealthy. It goes without saying that Cinderella successfully overcame the crafty designs of her evil stepmother and married the prince.

Everyone at the court liked the kind princess immensely. Unlike the spoilt bitchy princesses praised by socially irresponsible authors, she proved rather unpretentious. Cinderella was happy to sleep on unchanged bedclothes for a fortnight, abstained from flaying each pretty peasant girl noticed by the prince (mercifully satisfying herself with simple excisions of noses) – and, to cut a long fairytale short, was such a dear. But as time went on, the courtiers became increasingly aware of deficiencies in her highness’ education.

“Fie, ‘my gosh’ are not proper words to issue from gentle lips!” the ladies in waiting gossiped enthusiastically while giving themselves pedicures. “And recall yesterday’s vocal class! Her highness complained she could not hit a fifth, though the melody was actually in thirds!”

The princess heard this talk. . While idle court gossip was of little interest to her, she worried that the prince would begin to tire of her (especially since she had noticed a sharp uptick in peasant-girl nose-excisions lately). So she sprang into action. First, she boiled the ladies in waiting. Second, she called for her good old Fairy Godmother.

“Fairy Godmother, whaddathey talkin’ about? Goddamn nerdy servants,” the princess grumbled, fanning herself. “And that bastard prince, putting the moves on servant whores right now!”

“My darling, don’t you fret, I’ll fix that right away!” And with a wave of her magic wand, the Fairy Godmother did.

At once, Cinderella’s speech was graceful and flowing. She could converse intelligently on any subject, and her newfound wit was the envy of the court.

But Cinderella, now accustomed to reading Sartre and Camus before sleep, suddenly recognized her husband’s narrow-mindedness, mental feebleness, and moral laxity. To put it simply, he was a lustful asshole.

So Cinderella called upon her Fairy Godmother yet again.

“Fairy Godmother, please forgive me, but I cannot live as I do now. I am deeply distressed. My husband reminds me of a dog. He eats and sleeps, and sleeps and eats, and sometimes he wants sex. But mostly he is keen on food and sleep.”

“My darling, millions of ladies dream of your life! The bards will write fairy tales about you!”

“They write about frogs as well.”

“Fair enough, my darling. Then, what do you want?”

The princess thought for a while. In her new wisdom, it was no difficult task for her to analyze the mistakes she had made and deduce a formula for happiness.

“I want to be a young, silly, spoilt and beautiful bitch, and the prince shall adore me. No peasant girls, please note that. And listen, Fairy Godmother, I shall hit all thirds, and speak as a princess ought. But most of all, I shall be dumb enough to fail to see the idiocy of those who surround me.”

Fairy Godmother scratched her chin with her wand thoughtfully and slowly, and then she scratched her second chin, and then her third chin too (Fairy Godmothers do not, as a rule, diet) and, after a few moments’ deliberation, declared:

“My darling… But you’ve just deduced the formula for happiness!”

“Precisely, Fairy Godmother. Would you fulfill my wish?”

Fairy Godmother burst into laughter.

“Shall I scratch your back too, your highness?! Thanks for your suggestions, sucker!”

She waved her magic wand and turned herself into a young, spoilt and beautiful princess. Meanwhile, Cinderella travelled back in time and had to clean fireplaces and wash floors in her stepmother’s house for the rest of her life.

THE END

Moral: If you deduce the formula for happiness, don’t tell your fairy godmother, because fairy godmothers are fickle backstabbers.

–A. Moyseyenko, Online Contributor

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