The Tale of a Superior Being
Edited By Azalee Harris
I receive a letter in the mail.
It is an invitation to the prince's ball, in his desperate attempt to find a wife. I squeal in joy, until my step-sisters threaten to punch me in the kidney. I am sure I would be the perfect wife; after all, I'm flawless. I cannot comprehend why anyone would think otherwise.
But how shall I attend? My mother hates me, though I have no clue why. She would never allow me to go to the ball, in fear that the prince shall have the ability to behold my glory. So, I must come up with a plan. I grab a brick and hit her upside the head. Now I can drag her limp body into the hall closet! After finishing that task, I lock the door. Problem solved!
But I need assistance with preparing myself for this great event! I should’ve just threatened her. How will I explain this to the investigators? I know, I will just move to Canada!
Then I remember! About a month ago, I discovered that we have rats in our basement. Maybe they can help!
I trot downstairs to find the little balls of fur slowly devouring our peanut butter stash. I try to think of ways to communicate with them, when all of the sudden, I hear this deep masculine voice.
“Is there a reason you have disrupted our snack, my dear maiden?” I jump and glance to the cellar door, wondering who in the world that was.
“Down here, m’lady,” the voice murmurs creepily. I glance to my feet to see one of the rodents tugging on the hem of my skirts. I quickly shift my focus to other parts of the room in an attempt to locate the other feeble beasts. I notice them all in the corner, just kind of sitting there helplessly. I return my gaze to their leader.
“There you are! Oh, dear! You sure gave me a fright!”
“I apologize, m’lady, but must I ask again, what brings you to my kingdom?”
At first I don’t know what he is talking about, but soon figure out that he thinks this house is in his control. “Oh, kind sir, I fear that you have been mistaken. My step mother owns this property – err. . . used to. . . and you just so happened to come across it in search of food, I assume.”
His beady black eyes seem to look deep into my soul. He takes a moment to ponder on this, then replies with, “My, my, my, how fortunate I am that you have spared my people! May I do something in return for your kindness?”
“Why, I do happen to have something in mind! May I ask your name, mighty Lord?”
“How could I have forgotten introductions, miss? I am truly sorry! I am Lord Momo of the Momo dynasty. And you are?”
“I am Cinderella of the. . .oh never mind! I don’t suppose I belong to a dynasty, do I?”
He makes this odd noise that I assume is the rat form of laughter.
“Listen, kind sir, I have a small request of you.”
“Go on, fair maiden.”
“Could you make me a ball gown for a party that I must attend tonight?”
“M’lady, I do not have the proper material to do such a thing, but if you may supply my kingdom with some, we could make you the finest gown in the land!”
"All right then. I shall see what I can get access to, and until then, you may eat all you can get a hold on!”
“Why thank you! And you will look like a princess by the eve!”
I practically skip to the first floor, in such a rush to find what I need. Maybe I will find something useful outside on this fine morn.
As soon as I cross the threshold of the front door, I spot a strange furry black and white animal in the distance, casually sniffing at our half dead rose bushes. When I sneak quietly up to it, it lifts up its tail and shoots this wonderful substance at my face. I'm blinded temporarily, but soon my vision clears. I realize with glee that this creature may help towards making the perfect dress! So I snatch it up and give a sharp twist to its neck. I return to the house as quick as I can and dangle its limp body in front of the trustworthy rats. "Sire, I found the perfect thing!”
The rodents greedily grab the creature from my hands and begin skinning and gutting it. I stare awkwardly at Lord Momo’s minions and daydream about our many adventures. We will become great friends in the near future!
After they finish assembling the dress, it is a work of art! I pick up the delicate piece and give the rats great thanks. They seem to have enjoyed helping me, because they jump onto my face, clawing and biting out of pure joy.
After that event, I climb the stairs and enter my bedroom. In my bedroom are a broken vanity and a bed. I don’t have many possessions, because I seem to be worth nothing to my family. I stride over to the vanity and pull a rusted metal stool from underneath. I plop onto it and open one of my drawers to reveal my hairbrush.
I study my reflection in the mirror. I have grown to like the golden dreads that have formed from my lack of sanitation. They are a part of me, so I must show who I truly am to the prince.
My hair: Check!
Now I must worry about my make-up. I open a second drawer to reveal: nothing. I thought I had some? My sisters must have borrowed it!
I gallop into the bathroom like a horse with a broken leg. Luckily, my sisters don’t see me, or else they would probably burn me at the stake; they think I’ll spread my blood and dirt in this flawless room. Yeah, right, I think as I wipe my gory face onto the white towels.
Now it’s time to start working on my horrendous face! Did I say horrendous? I meant flawless! I must find the perfect foundation to compliment my perfect complexion. I exit the bathroom through a mysterious hole in the wall that strangely leads to the kitchen. It must be destiny!
I go through the kitchen cabinets until I find my improvised foundation, which just so happens to be mustard. I gently rub that into my face while reaching into the drawer closest to the sink, picking up the most expensive brand of make-up: Sharpay. I give myself a fake mole that closely resembles a dead fly; a unibrow; eyeliner; and I find Sharpay in red, so I apply lipstick also. As soon as I change into my dress I will be ready to depart!
I must arrive at the ball in style, so I steal a car. Yes, we have cars in year 0001, did you expect us to be stupid? Of course you didn’t, because of my obvious intelligence. So obvious, in fact, that I’m pretty sure it radiates off of my face.
I fishtail onto I87, hitting many cars in the process. They don’t matter though; they are just scraps of mundane flesh wasting space. I don’t even see why they exist, since I seem to absorb all of the glory. It then occurs to me that they should be bowing at my presence! I shall rub their filthy faces into the blacktop if they don’t! I quickly flick the idea off my shoulder (or maybe that was some skunk flesh), as I realize that I have a destination, and therefore cannot waste time.
For the first time since I sat in the car, I look out the windshield. I soon arrive to the conclusion that I’m in a ditch. Oh. I quickly push the “F” button on the car, causing the vehicle to sprout wings. Don’t look at me that way. Crinkling up your face like that makes you look like a gargoyle. What? Do your cars not have an “F” button? Preposterous!
About halfway to my destination I decide cars are lame, so I jump out of the car, which is about 100 feet in the air, and land on the hard asphalt with a snap. Then the pain hits. But I must ignore it, since princesses don’t feel pain. Limping down the road, I see an extremely ugly woman dragging a black sack up ahead of me. Ew. She looks like a hag. Just when I am about to pivot and face another direction, she turns around and says, "YO GUUUUURRRLLL, I is be yo fairy godmotha. And you is sooo ratchet, let yo big momma help ya outta that." I am momentarily stunned by her ignorance.
"Excuse me?! This gown was made by my finest demon rats that strangely foam at the mouth. It is TOP of the line! One of a kind!"
“Sure looks like it,” she says sarcastically.
“Wait! Old hag thing! Will you please tell me what you have in that bag?”
“A tenor boy.” At fist I think she is joking with me. After all, you cannot take such an ugly face seriously, but when I examine the shape of the bag, I realize that ‘tis be true!
“Madam! Since you happen to have captured the one and only tenor boy in the land of bass girls, you must be a witch!”
"Sure am. Been one since I was a young’n. Now, if you’ll excuse me, bippity, boppity, KNIFE IN THE DARK!" my fairy...whatever she is, yells.
I am suddenly engulfed in flames, and I think I hear an announcer's voice say: "LET THE 76TH ANNUAL HUNGER GAMES BEGIN!" I have no clue as to my surroundings, since my eyes are closed. When I open my eyes a horde of girls in gowns appear, all running towards the castle with various weapons -- ripping dresses and tearing weave -- where the prince on sits on the throne. I suddenly realize what I'm wearing. . .a beautiful dress. . .surrounded by a swarm of mosquitoes. I snatch a pitchfork from another helpless girl -- that is not worthy of me -- and start rapidly stabbing the air. And, on accident, my face. I realize the latter as soon as blood drips into my eyes. I throw the pitchfork back at the girl’s spleen and hold my hands in front of my face. Then my face just. . .falls off. I scream in pure terror, "FAIRY GODMOTHER, HELP!!!"
The girl who now has a pitchfork in her spleen faces me, then dissolves into my fairy godmother. "Ooohhh maaaan, guuurl, I don't know about dis one. . ." she has a horrified expression on her face.
"Oh well, I must attend the ball anyway. Here, hold this." I say and dramatically throw my face into her hands. She doesn't seem to mind.
I sprint to the prince, wincing as the still present mosquitoes land on the place where my face used to be. The prince stares at me for a second, saying nothing, and then screams in his helium voice, "YOU'RE SO BEAUTIFUL!!!" He must be another soprano boy; they seem to populate the whole city. He scoops me up into his arms, and we dance. My face is kind of in pain, so the only way to get rid of him is to. . .kill him. So, I stab him with my shoe. I glance back while running to see the shoe protruding from his chest.
Then I am violently sucked into the sky by a whirlwind. I black out.
“Are you awake, madam?” I hear a faint voice whisper. “Are you awake?” It seems to be getting louder. “WAKE UP!” Ow, my ears. I jolt as I wake up, hitting my forehead against another currently occupied face. Once my morning grogginess clears, I see that it is King Dodo.
“What have I done to receive your presence, Your Highness?” I am utterly confused. The King never leaves the castle, for fear of terrorists.
“Cinderella, what you have done for my kingdom it worth a great reward! You saved us all!”
Still, I lie there. Confused. “What have I done, Your Highness?”
“Why, did you not know his plan?”
“Who’s plan, Your Highness?”
“My son’s plan, of course!” I stare blankly. He continues, saying, “My son had a plan to drop an atom bomb on Japan! No one could stop him, because his guards always herded them off. But when you arrived, he simply loved everything about you, so he asked you to dance. No one else could get near him, but you. So when you stabbed him, it was only mere seconds before he would’ve commanded the bomb to drop! He died within minutes, unable to command the destruction of the Japanese Empire, so we are all saved!”
But why would the prince drop a bomb on Japan? What did he have against Japan? How did that save the world, not just Japan?!
I ask the king these questions. The Prince wanted to ruin Japan because of their poorly made china cups. When he dropped one, it broke. Like, of course it broke! But apparently, the Prince is utterly dumb, so he wanted to kill everyone that comes from that country, not just the people who made it.
On the way back to earth – oh yeah, we were in space – I think about why I killed the Prince. I really had no reason, other than the fact that my face hurt. Oh. I put my hands up to my face, and find that it is still in tact. How? They must’ve called my fairy godmother to fix it.
After returning home, I realize how much I’ve lost over one stupid ball. Now I have no family (the rats ate them), no friends (except the rats), and no prince. My life should be better than this! I think about this unfair society until winter. Then, of course, I hibernate.
What? You don’t hibernate? Stupid mortals.