Fairy Tale My A$$

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Fairy Tale My Ass

I had not expected to be given life. At least not life in your terms of definition. I am an inanimate object, incapable of moving or speaking, much less writing. Or at least I was. I write this to tell you what happened on the ride before the ball. Before she met her prince and before she came rushing back inside of what that blue lady turned me into.

Am I making sense?

Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo? Sound familiar?

How 'bout ugly, evil stepsisters? Getting closer? Come on, you idiots. I tried to tell you this story nicely, but now you're pissin' me off.

Yeah. Well. I know what'll stimulate those stupid. little brains of yours. Cinderella. Remember now? About time, fucktards. Seems like I won't be telling this the nice way.

You see, magic is powerful shit. It was able to turn me into a white and gold carriage for a beautiful dame. Actually, no. She wasn't as beautiful as they made her out to be. She was alright. I'd seen better.

As a humble pumpkin in a patch growing where actual beautiful dolls walked by every day, there was always much to see. No skirt was too short from my point of view if you know what I mean.

Yeah, those simple days before my crazy-ass ride to and from that castle. Before that fat, blue fairy bitch whacked me with her shitty excuse for a wand. Magic is powerful because it's painful. You try getting hit with a heavy–ass stick that makes you grow, in a matter of seconds, in places that ain't meant to be stretched out. Those are tender areas, and don't let the "harmless" fairy powder on that devil stick fool you. That shit gets on you and it gives you a nasty rash that lasts for days.

You see, the day of the ball, I was, as always, hanging out in the garden with the rest of my brothers, observing the young ladies as they passed me by. It's a nice way to spend the days if you haven't given it a try.

Night soon overlapped the setting sun. A black curtain dropped onto the kingdom as small, twinkling orbs of light scattered across the sky. See, bitches, I can write poetically too. Anywho, I was thinking about that cute brunette peasant that brightened my day when she passed by. She was too poor to afford panties, and those are just the good ol' days when you're happy to be alive. That's when I heard a familiar whine.

Cinderella scampered by me, weeping as usual, only this time her garments were the remains of what once seemed to be a decent looking dress. She goes and cries on her usual spot I don't know where 'cause I can't see behind me. I could hear though. And it was annoying as hell. Just like all the other times. Why don't she just run away? I don't understand women. That's why I just admire them. From afar. Very afar.

Just as I was about to kill myself, I see a sparkle of light and that's when that blue fairy bitch pops out. Here is where I'm gonna tell you the truth. This is why I began to write this and why I became a chain smoker.

There was no cheery singing to colorful lyrics, no mice wearing human clothes danced, and definitely no merry magic usage. Basically, it was here ya go, wham bam, midnight deadline, thank you, ma'am. But before the see ya later, a wand was pointed at my face and suddenly I couldn't see under the skirts of girls no more.

So, Cinderella, all dolled up, climbs inside of me and refuses to shut the fuck up. It's like someone left her on play. "How will the ball be? I hope there's good food. I still can't believe that happened! This dress is so beautiful and amazing and incredible! And the shoes!" Why is it always with the shoes?

The only thing that she talked about more than her dress was the prince. "I wonder how the prince looks. I hope he's handsome. What if he asks me to dance?" Yadda, yadda, yadda.

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