Sitting next to the fire, tears flowed like an open faucet. Her evil step mother and step sisters were off to another party. Staring at her frumpy clothes and sandpaper hands, she cried out in agony.
Suddenly the room was filled with a ghastly green light, and a grotesque hag appeared. Rindercella shrunk in fright and trembled all over. The creature approached and said, "I'm your Gerry Fod Muver." The hideous creature had obviously had a bit too much to drink.
"You're going to the Queen's Ball," she announced. In a flash, Rindercella's clothes morphed into new duds. There are a few problems; the designer jeans were two sizes too large. The blouse was made for an elf, and her plastic slippers would fit a kangaroo. “Nuffing's too good for my li'le princess," said the Gerry Fod Muver.
Rindercella expected a stretch limo. She was greeted by a sixty-seven hot pink Camaro with flame racing stripes.
When she entered the room, their eyes met. She drew back. The Prince was ugly; that's why the Queen wanted to marry him off. He asked her to dance and reluctantly she boogied with him through the night. When the clock struck twelve, she ran for her life. Her clothes changed back to frumpy rags, and she lost a patent leather slipper.
Her Prince Charming put an ad in the paper searching for the girl whose foot fit that slipper. The way he looked, there weren’t many ladies waiting in line. Rindercella was turned away, that slipper only fit a half dozen girls. They drew straws to see who would marry the prince.
Sitting by the fire, no tears streaming down her face as she thought about the prince and how ugly he was. She was happy the slipper fit someone else.