THE STORY OF CINDERELLA (Because life sucks...)

Warning: This story makes fun of emo people, cartoon mouses, stupid stepsisters, and... I don't know, whatever else is in here.

Once upon a time there lived a very depressed and cynical girl named Cinderella. Everyone called her Elle. Her father had lost all of his money after a messy divorce with his first wife, and so he was forced to marry again to support himself.

His new wife was malicious, tyrannical, and pretty much a bitch. She forced Elle to cook, clean, and wait upon her hand and foot. This new wife also had two equally malicious, tyrannical, and bitchy daughters, and both of them loved nothing more than to spend their time tormenting poor Elle (if they weren’t recovering from one of their numerous plastic surgeries).

One day, the family received a special e-mail inviting them to the local Prince’s 20th birthday bash. The two stepsisters eagerly accepted the invitation, but Elle was forbidden to attend. “Like, no one would ever ask you to dance, anyway!” said the first stepsister.

“Totally,” said the second stepsister (that was all she ever said).

“Everyone would laugh at you.”

“You’re right,” Elle said, cradling her delicate chin in her hand. “Everyone would hate me if I went.” With that said, Elle left her two sisters and went to sit by the fireplace, where she usually did most of her moping.

“You’re so depressed,” said her magical talking mouse friend, Jack Disney TM ©. “Snap out of it, and stop feeling sorry for yourself!”

“I just don’t want my dreams to shatter into a thousand pieces. My heart swarms with darkness,” said Elle, trying to sound poetic. She failed.

“You’re such an emo. Go get laid or something, you need to cheer up. Oh, and get your damn hair out of your face.” Elle sulkily complied, but as soon as she brushed it away, her emo hair magically fell back in front of her eyes again. Jack Disney TM © groaned. “That’s it, I’m leaving! I was going to get the creatures of the forest to make you a dress, but screw that! Ungrateful bitch.”

“Now I’ve lost my only friend,” Elle wailed miserably. “My life is shrouded in clouds and frowny faces.”

Later that evening, Elle sat by the fire and sulked about how horrible her life was. All of a sudden, her magical fairy godmother appeared in front of her! “Ah, my child, why do you look so forlorn?” asked the kind, elderly lady.

“Because I’m emo. It’s what we do,” said Elle.

“Oh.” Silence stretched for several seconds. “So, do you want to go to the ball or not?”

Elle shook her head sadly. “Not really. I have to stay here and sulk right now, you see...”

“But if you stay here, the story will be ruined!” Elle’s fairy godmother protested, throwing up her hands.

“Oh, all right,” said Elle reluctantly. And so the two ladies went outside and stood on the front lawn. Elle looked up and down the shadowy street before her. “So, how are we going to get there?”

The fairy godmother tapped her chin thoughtfully and glanced around the garden in front of Elle’s house. “Hmmm... this pumpkin will do,” she said, and with a wave of her hand, the pumpkin transformed into a bright orange Porsche. Elle looked down and saw that her usual band name t-shirts and ripped pants had been replaced with a fashionable orange ball gown.

Elle groaned. “I hate orange.”

“Hurry, my dear, get in! And be back by midnight, for then the spell will be broken,” urged her fairy godmother.

“You don’t understand me!” Elle said, and climbed up into the Porsche.

In the blink of an eye, the magical pumpkin-porsche arrived at the Prince’s mansion. She stared up at the tall spires and beautiful gardens and lawn gnomes in wonder. “Oh, if only my house could be this wonderous!”

In reality, Elle would have hated having a beautiful house, because then she wouldn’t have been able to complain about how horrible it was.

With a sigh, Elle made her way up towards the palace. Once inside the main ballroom, she immediately caught the eye of the handsome Prince himself! The infatuated lad made his way over to her. Upon reaching her, he brought her hand to his lips. Elle just stared at him through her bangs.

“Oh, beautiful lady, tell me your name!” said he.

“Uh... no thanks...” said Elle. “You wouldn’t want to get to know me. No one ever understands me, and you must not share in the misery that is my life! I should never have come here tonight. I knew I’d only bring woe upon everyone with my terrible burdens by coming out of my self-induced solitude.”

“I don’t understand all those large, dramatic words,” said the baffled Prince, “but I’m hopelessly in love with you. Don’t you even want to talk to me?”

“Not really,” said Elle. “It would only end in heartbreak and doom the world. I cannot allow myself to experience happiness or love.”

“But...”

“Oh, never mind. I’m going to go back home to suffer by myself now.”

And so Elle left the befuddled birthday boy behind and returned home in her orange Porsche to sit by the fireplace and brood just as she always did, letting her hair fall back in front of her face. After all, that’s what emo people do.

THE END