CINDERELLA AND THE GLASS SLIPPER

A perverse look at an old story, with moral attached!!!

Cinderella Scruffbag was a lascivious young tart with a fondness for men's anatomy.

It wasn't that she was any sort of prostitute, though she might have been exactly that had she charged for her services, but they came free on account of her not wanting to wait as long as it takes to open a wallet.

She lived with two sisters, two exceptionally beautiful young women with peaches-and-cream complexions and a tendency to whisper prayers to themselves as they went about their daily lives. They were modesty itself, which is why they looked upon their dreadful younger sister with despair, wringing their hands and worrying themselves stupid about her morals.

“You really will have to learn to wear proper panties,” complained sister number one. “It's too bad that you flash your bottom at every man who comes anywhere near.”

“But I like it! All the nice men stroke my pert little...” began Cinderella.

“That's enough of that kind of talk!” put in the second sister. “It's outrageous that you should behave in such a way, and for your cheek we're going to make you go to the big New Year ball at the Palace, where the Prince will be looking for a bride to share his Princely duties with.”

“I wouldn't be seen dead in a place like that!” shouted Cinderella. “All those posh people who haven't got a moment to spare for one as beautiful as me!”

“You're coming, and that's that!” smiled the first sister.

“Just you try and get out of it!” whispered the second.

And that had to be that.

The day for the ball came around, and a pumpkin attached to four white mice suddenly exploded into a carriage with four horses proudly and impatiently prancing in front of it. It was the kind of magic that happens in strange places, like Storyland and Fiction - both a vast improvement on Reality where we all live.

Cinderella, ushered by her two beautiful sisters climbed aboard the carriage. There was plenty of room in the capacious pumpkin for them to stretch out without their knees trembling against each other.

“You could have dressed more appropriately,” whispered the first sister to Cinderella. “that skirt's much too short, and you're running to fat, and why are your dancing shoes made of glass?”

“I'm pregnant!” snarled Cinderella. “I'm going to have a beautiful baby, thanks to you two not telling me the facts of life when you should have.”

“Nobody told us anything,” breathed the second sister. “What are the facts of life?”

“If you don't know I'm not going to tell you,” sneered Cinderella. “And I'm wearing glass slippers for fun. If I kick someone they'll shatter and then I'll be able to create a fuss and rush out into the dark night screaming and filled with a tantrum!”

“You're not a very nice person, are you?” smiled her first sister.

“Most unpleasant,” agreed the second.

“Lovely!” she spat.

They arrived at the ball, and the sisters took Cinderella to one side. “You must return to the carriage by midnight or it will turn back into a pumpkin and white mice,” they told her. “And it's a long walk back home,” added the second sister with a twinkling goody-goody smile.

“What about you?” she demanded.

“We'll be all right,” both sisters assured her.

It was a splendid ball and the two beautiful sisters looked the part exactly. But Cinderella didn't. She sat out dance after dance, watching and sneering inwardly. And her already short skirt rode up her thighs until it might not have been there at all.

“Will you dance, ma'am?” asked a young man and she looked at him and sneered her refusal. To her mind he was too hairy.

“How about the next dance?” asked a second young man, and she looked at him and noted he couldn't have been more than eighteen years old. “What sort of girl do you think I am? A baby snatcher?” she screeched.

“May I have the honour...?” asked a third young man, and she thought him considerably too haughty and spat at him in reply. Nobody appealed to her, so she danced with nobody.

The time came for the Prince to enter the proceedings. He was tall and majestic and dressed in an exciting military uniform that was mostly red. He looked around him, and noted that one girl wasn't dancing, and that she was dressed most unusually for a royal ball.

“May I?” he asked of her.

She looked at him scornfully, but, “you'll do, I suppose,” she growled, and stood up.

The prince took hold of her in a very proper way, and they danced round the floor. Well, he danced, a very upright waltz, and she allowed herself to be dragged along behind him.

“Can't you dance, you poor thing?” he asked in a very royal voice.

“Of course I can!” she shrieked. “I've got certificates for dancing. It's just that I choose not to!”

At that moment the clock on the wall started chiming twelve. Midnight. The hour when the carriage would return to its previous state of being a pumpkin.

“Gotta go!” she squealed, and ran out of the dance hall.

On her way to the carriage park she lost a slipper and it lay on the driveway, glinting in the moonlight.

The Prince followed her, saw the slipper and picked it up at the moment her carriage hurtled off into the night.

He looked at the lost slipper. There it was in his hand fragile, sparkling, twinkling.

“This is most unusual,” he whispered to himself, and then he called his Guard to him.

“Take this,” he ordered, handing over the glass slipper. “Tomorrow, you must go through the kingdom until you find she that this slipper fits.

“Yes sir,” said the Guard.

“And when you do, bring the trollop here,” continued the Prince.

“Yes, sir. And...?”

“And chop off her head, the insolent b***h!” demanded the Prince, and he returned to the ballroom where he danced with very fine ladies and fell in love and married one of them.

It was Cinderella's oldest sister, but Cinderella didn't know. You see, the sisters had buried her body in their garden, and to make absolutely sure she was dead her head was interred in a dusty yard in the next county, miles away.

Author's Note

Apologies to all who really like the original story....