Introducing Cinderella, Less Rella, More Cinders

And so we begin…

Things weren’t going well for Cinderella.  For starters, the palace dog had chewed her feet off.  The very size fives that had won her the heart of the prince.  Ironic really –  the pivotal glass slippers were now at the Goodwill, on some low shelf, marked down because really, what grown woman had feet like a pixie? It was for the best, Cinderella thought. No sense in being sentimental; in fact she couldn’t stand to look at the shoes anymore.  That and even when she’d had feet, the shoes were monstrously uncomfortable.  They were fucking glass for God’s sake. “We’ll get you new feet,” said her husband, the prince. “We’ll do whatever it takes.” He was a sweet man, but terribly misguided.  It wasn’t like they could just go down to the feet store. Plus they were broke, or close to it and new feet simply were’t in the budget.  Adding to all of this was the indignity of running into her stepsister Anastatia that morning at Trader Joes as Cinderella hobbled up the aisle looking for basmati rice. “Oh,” Anastasia had said, in that nasal twang of hers, “Cinderella, what ever happened to your glass slippers?” Her stepsister was married to a prominent plastic surgeon now and he’d made Anastasia quite a bit more palatable looking, but there was nothing to be done about that voice of hers.

At least I have my hair, Cinderella thought now, taking the Pirate’s Booty out of the grocery bag and putting it into the snack drawer.  That wasn’t ruined.  Not yet anyway.  She heard someone humming somewhere below the open kitchen window and paused to listen.  The pool boy – their last remaining servant.  She opened the window to hear him better, then waved down to him and he looked at her strangely.

Fuck you world!

Of course, she thought, her hand.  The dog had mangled one of her hands as well, such that her middle finger stuck up awkwardly.  It looked like she was giving the whole world the bird. “I wasn’t flipping you off!” she shouted down to him, but he pretended to ignore her.  Ugh, she thought.  She missed the days of the birds under the window, the singing mice too.  Oh and could those little rodents sew!  She’d said this to the Prince just last night. “I miss the mice,” she said. “I used to have mice friends you know.  Gus Gus.  He was my favorite.  Sweet, fat Gus Gus.”  She regretted saying it.  Because now she’d bought herself a trip to the palace doctor, because mice didn’t talk according to her unimaginative husband.  Well, whatever.  She’d go to the doctor.  Let the doctor give her some magic dust in little capsules.  Maybe she could sprinkle it on this whole fucking mess and get back to when her father was alive.  Back to before he met that awful stepmother on Adult Friend Finder.  Bitter? Yes, she was bitter, Cinderella thought.  Footless and bitter.

Next episode airs Wednesday at sometime o’clock.