Stella Bee: A Work in Progress

Stella Bee

The Fairy God Mother’s Story





























Stella Bee

Cinderella: The Fairy God Mother’s Story





You know, I just don’t get enough credit for my work. Well, you must know the story of Cinderella. I mean, who doesn’t? Then you should also know about her fairy godmother. Without her precious, beautiful, and very wise godmother, Cinderella would still be a sad, little, crybaby servant to her evil step mother and her two evil stepsisters. So why isn’t the story called Fairy Godmother? I doubt any of you even know my name. Well, its Stella Bee, and that’s exactly what this story is about: me.







If I can stretch my mind back to that day, I believe I was watching FNN (Fairy News Network). This is where we find all the sad, pitiful people that we have to help. Today was pathetic. “Oh, my sweet Rapunzel has been taken by a witch to a tall tower,” and, “I will have to give up my precious baby to an ugly goblin if I can’t guess his name!” Sometimes this channel makes me want to hurl. Everyone always has a problem or they’re in a “sticky situation”.



I was about to call it quits and get my wings polished when I heard the saddest sob-story that FNN ever broadcasted. This girl had problems. Her mother died, then her father remarried a woman with two daughters. Then her father died and her step mother and stepsisters turned out to be real pains in the neck. And to top it all off, they call her Cinderella. I mean, what kind of a name is that? And now the poor sad-sap wants to go to the dance and her stepmother won't let her. Now this is a job worth doing!



I didn’t want to reveal myself to the “steps,” so I decided to wait until they left and listened in.



“Do these dishes, Cinderella. This time make them shine,” said her stepmother, Evileen.



“Fix my hair! You did it horribly the first time,” screamed one of her stepsisters, Rudy.



“Find my pearls, right now!” screeched the other, Meena.



I finally got ready to go as the “steps” waddled off in their two sizes too small dresses and their stupid pointed toe shoes. Once they were gone, Cinderella made her way to her, um (I really don’t know what to call it because it wasn’t big enough to be a room), sleeping quarters, I guess. And, knowing that humans a mostly made of water (We’re mostly made of fairy dust), I think she cried out about half of it. She sobbed, and she wailed. That girl really turned on the waterworks. This was the perfect time to enter the scene.



I sprinkled on some extra fairy dust because this was going to take some work, And just for the record we fairies don’t do that bipitty-bopitty-boo mumbo jumbo, except for Mildred, but her wand is a little shorter than others, if you know what I mean. So I simply zapped myself right over that pathetic, little girl’s head.



“Excuse me, what’s wrong, darling?” I asked as sweetly as I could muster.

That was a mistake, if their ever was one. Cinderella sucked up those tears real fast and started demanding things that she absolutely needed for the ball. I knew this sob-story was too good to be true.

“Hold up Ms. Cinderella,” I wasn't about to take this "Give this and give that" attitude, “If you think that I’m going to do anything for you with that attitude, then you must be dumber that a sack of flying horse squat.” This girl had brought out my ugly side and I was going to show it off.

Then, the tears started up again. I could hear “everybody hates me” and a few “nobody cares about me” between her intolerable wails and sobs.

I had had it with this girl. I mean, she was pretty helpless and all, but man, did she have to be such a brat. So I leaned in close and popped her a good one. She looked completely bewildered. I leaned in closer and glared. “Shut… up.” I whispered in a harsh tone.

I guess this girl can’t keep quiet for long. “Get out! GET OUT! I don’t need your help! I don’t need anybody’s help!” she screamed, marching to the front door and swinging it open.

“Okay, Dumpling!” I cooed sarcastically as I flounced through the door.

The door slammed behind me. Man! This girl really needed an attitude check! Oh, but if I don’t help her get to the ball then I would just have to die trying (Its part of the Fairy God Mother Code). But there certainly wasn’t a rule to say that I couldn’t have a little fun while doing it. So I fluffed my wings and poofed back into the cottage. Just as expected, she had her back turned to the door, giving me the element of surprise.

“Finally! Now that we’ve gotten rid of the stiff, we can get down to business,” I said excitedly. Switching to an icy tone, “Do it again and you’ll wake up in a crate on your way to Timbuktu.”

I promise you, that girl jumped up so high you could’ve driven an eighteen wheeler under her. “Sweet Merlin, where the hamlet did you come from?”

“Well, for your information, Merlin is NOT that sweet (we dated in high school), and I believe I came from my mother, but I don’t think that I need to get into the details.

“Now listen up. I’m much too old to remember what I say; therefore I cannot and will not repeat myself. I got a job to do and that job is helping you. I will do my job whether you make it easy on me or not. Now! Your pick—we can do this the easy way of the hard way—because I’m okay with either one.

“I almost feel bad about your struggles as the maid to your poor deceased father’s widow and her two horrid she-devil daughters. Now, I could continue lecturing you about how you don’t have to have a crappy attitude because you have a crappy life, but I would like to get out of here as soon as possible so I can watch my stories.”

Cinderella looked defeated. This was a battle she just couldn’t win, because she just got her big break in life but she didn’t know how to handle it. She had gotten so used to those extremely dependent, pushy, crybaby brats, that she didn’t know how to be grateful for the great sacrifice I was making for her. I was going to be kind a let her figure out the right way to show how much I ought to be appreciated for the great act of kindness.

I softened by tone a bit because I was starting to understand her, “Listen, I won’t make this purposefully horrible for you, because, despite my witchy attitude earlier, I not that bad of a person.”

I saw her slight grin under her long, black bangs. It started to thaw my chilly little heart. I guess she wasn’t that bad. My little “Cindy” was becoming an actual human being.

Cinderella sniffled a little and dried her eyes on her sleeves. “Well? I guess we should be getting on with it. What do I need to do to help you help me?”

Now that was a good recovery.





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Olivia W. said...
Sept. 23, 2009 at 9:15 pm
That was cool; I've never thought of it that way. I love a story with a little twist and some point of view thrown in on the side.
 
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