Rowdy Cinderella

I swept the floor, made rigatoni, and polished our coffee cups. Yet, my fat sisters, Sofia and Adrianna, had always criticized my behavior. Ever since my mother’s recent passing last year, my new stepsisters and Lucia, my stepmother, have all seemed to avoid me like I were taboo.

I hurried through the messy streets on my tiny blue Vespa; the streets outside were ringing, and my dear old father was nowhere to be found. I picked up some pasta and headed my way home. My stepmother had seemed to disappear, and the house was unusually quiet. I snuck quietly to the garden, hoping to avoid the list of chores piling up on me. I was about to sing for the birds again for my measly entertainment when a booming voice flooded the room. “CinDaaarEllaaaaa,” the voice boomed, “get here now.” I sighed and moped towards the staircase as I traced the sound to the third floor. My late mother’s mansion was huge, but everyone usually avoided the third floor, where forgotten storage was kept, just like me.

I heard fabric ripping and tearing. “CinderElaaaar,” a new voice bellowed, “come now, or pasta is banned!” I rushed into the main storage room and saw chaos; strings of bright neon orange and dark purple sashes were pierced around the room. “Aha!” came a muffled voice. “I found the dress I was looking for!” I found my appalling sisters tied up and pampered. “Where are you guys going?” I asked. “It’s only Sunday afternoon.” “Oh, you’re not going anywhere.” My stepmother sneered and coldly added, “The prince has a ball today, and you’re staying home, where you and your mice can clean and cook.” “Get me a new dress!” A piercing voice hollered. “Go fetch me some pearls, child.” The door then shut in my face.

My demeanor shifted to languid as I sulked to my room. I angrily tossed the pearls into my mini garden on my balcony and watched as a mouse scurried to fetch the shimmery beads. I sighed and scooped up the mouse and watched it chew the beads from my sagging mattress. I felt like I lived in the slums compared to the lavish room I used to live in. All of my belongings were trashed, and I pinned my hopes of a new friend on my self-proclaimed best friend, the mouse. I walked back to their dressing room and held the mouse and pearls up to the light. I watched as my Lucia lunged for the pearls; I skipped giddily away with a sense of freedom that had long slipped away; I felt long lost in the painfully churlish household.

Oh, how I desperately wanted to go to the ball. I wanted to eat like a princess, try the new tiramisu, and waltz with the prince himself. Soon, a carriage picked up Adrianna, while Sofia dashed behind. Looking at my disgustingly plump sisters, I felt hungrier. My mother had already disappeared elsewhere, and a new thought sprang to my mind.

I slipped on the first dress I found and prepared to storm the ball. I snuck through the trees, every move exhilarating through my mind. I was just about to approach the castle doors when an old woman spawned in front of me. My bony ribs smashed against her as I fell back onto the most overweight woman I had ever seen.

“Ouch,” a cheeky voice squeaked. I was stunned into silence. “You must be Cinderella,” the same voice squeaked, but even more high-pitched. I slowly nodded, unsure what to say. She skittishly scooped me up and waved an umbrella. “I know you want to go to the ball, hehehe,” she giggled. “I have just the outfit for you!” I stared her down and dashed away, but she spawned right again in front of me, and before I could react, she waved the purple umbrella with the biggest grin on her face. I poofed and spun around unwillingly as she twirled me around. I felt as if I had stepped out of a clown box. “Hmm,” she thought. “You don’t look very convincing, Pop!” Filled the air, and now I looked exactly like her, just more bony and slender.

Poof! Puffed the air, and a wagon appeared. I raised an eyebrow at the giddy woman. “Sorry,” she sheepishly said, “I ran out of carriages.” She blurted out, “Oh, hi, it’s me. Your fairy godmother!” She gave a blow to the wagon, and off I went. Seconds later, I appeared at the Ball faster than most other guests.

I scurried to the dessert table, starving. I shoved delicious foods up my throat while guests pointed and laughed. I didn’t care about the public’s scrutiny of a scanty me enjoying a bit too many croissants. I shoved myself full and started to leave. My extra fancy lobster heels were getting in the way, so I ripped them off and looked for someone worthy to hit. I soon spotted my sisters. I took aim and shot. My aim was far off as I sprinted away; when I gasped, both my heels hit the prince and left a huge dent where his nose was.

There was a hush over the room; citizens anxiously tiptoed out while I studied Prince Caliber’s crooked nose. I giggled, and he must have seen me because he looked enraged as ever.