11-12-2004, 09:18 AM
Miss Moppy -The story of Cindersrella
Cinderella must be one of the most trouble making fictitious characters of all time! How many women she has led astray with her fairy tale notions of some handsome prince bursting into our lives and carrying us off out of our troubles into never ending happiness?? How many divorces is she responsible for?? How much dissatisfaction has she caused by spreading her false message of never ending marital bliss?? Yet she has blended in quite well with the artificial modern society that thrives on lies and images of beauty and wealth. What if Cinderalla was twenty kilos overweight and had acne spots on her face?? Why do people keep repeating this notorious tale to each successive generation?? Perhaps Cinderella could be portrayed in a somewhat different way. Well, here goes!
I was sitting at the computer tapping my fingers on the table wondering what I should write about. I looked down at my two younger children playing on the lounge room carpet. They were down on their hands and knees with their noses to the floor.
“What are you guys doing?” I asked.
“We're huntin' dogs, sniffin' out game," replied Moppy. We've been reading the story of ‘Todd and Copper’ lately.
“Huntin’ dogs eh? Well watch you don't get a nose full of dust out of that carpet,” I told them.
Miss Moppy (four years old) stopped sniffin' for a minute and asked me what I was doing.
“I want to write something but I can't think of what to write.”
“Why don't you write a story?” she suggested.
“A story about what?” I asked.
“I saw a video at school.”
“What was it about?”
“It was called umm, Cindersrella (she meant Cinderella),” she answered.
I wanted to know her reaction as we don't watch films at home.
“Well, it was about a girl and she had two real nasty sisters who made her do lots of work and then she married some prince.”
By now Miss Moppy was excited and sat telling me the story, waving her little hands around.
“But,” she said, “I don't know why she didn't just tell them she was tired.”
“Good point,” I concluded.
“What would you do if you were her?” I asked.
“I’d tell them I didn’t want to do it and if they were nasty I’d tell my father on them.”
“That’s right,” I said,
“Cinderella’s father never really was in the picture was he?” I’m referring to the version of the story that says her father wasn’t dead, but was always traveling.
“Ok, go on and look for a rabbit or a deer or something,” I told them. Off they went sniffin’ down the hallway.
Cinderella lay on the bare wooden floor of her room talking to the mice that scampered around, picking up crumbs and ignoring her as they ran back into their hole in the wall. She sighed and got up to look onto the balcony where dozens of pretty birds say singing.
“Oh look!” she cried , “they've messed on my washing!” Cinderella began to cry.
Dildred was passing Cinderella’s door and heard the noise.
“What’s the matter? Why haven't you started cooking dinner? Its nearly three o'clock?” Dildred stood there with her squinty gray eyes peering over her rather long hooked nose and her long narrow feet pointed precisely at ten to two.
“I'm coming,” said Cinderella passively to her older step-sister.
Just then, Dildred’s sister appeared. Drona pushed her short, round frame into the room.
“What are you doing on the floor Cinders? If you donut use the chairs we've given you, I'll tell Mother to have all the furniture removed from your room!”
Cinderella looked at her tormentor from tear-stained eyes and said quite loudly,
“All this furniture belongs to my father, not to you!”
Drona pursed her lips and charged at Cinderella pushing her against the wall. At first Cinderella felt afraid but then a roaring sense of anger erupted within her.
“How dare you treat me like this in my own house,” she screamed.
Drona pushed Cinderella so that she hit her head on the edge of the cupboard. Cinderella rubbed her head for a minute, then got up and charged at Drona, pinning her against the wall. Speaking through her teeth, she said,
“Don't lay your hands on me anymore or you'll be sorry!”
Cinderella held Drona's stare for a few seconds then released her grip. Dildred meanwhile, was standing in the corner of the room quietly observing the situation. Her scheming mind was hard at work. She knew that if Cinderella contacted her father, who was always traveling, there would be trouble. It was vital that she be kept subservient or at least passive, so they could continue to enjoy their carefree lifestyle.
“Cinderella is right, Drona. You shouldn't be so nasty to her. I'm going to tell Mother.” Then she turned and left the room.
Cinderella stared after Dildred in amazement and Drona brushed down her clothes, humphed and left the room too. Cinderella was left feeling shaky but somewhat proud of herself. She looked around the room and started to feel angry. Her broken down furniture, old clothes and gloomy room was a far cry from what she had enjoyed before her Father married Mrs. Mable Mull.
“How dare they treat me like this! How stupid I have been to accept this situation! Well, no more!” she declared aloud.
She swept around the room and tidied up, then she set some mouse traps.
“What kind of people talk to mice anyway,” she muttered to herself. “Dirty little creatures they are.” Then she made a little scarecrow to put on the balcony so the birds wouldn't mess on her clothes anymore.
“Things are going to be different around here,” she said, “if I'm going to do all this work then I'm going to do something that I want to do.”
Cinderella went upstairs to the attic and pulled out some beautiful clothes from an old wooden chest which her mother had kept for her. They fitted her perfectly. She went downstairs and greeted her step-mother and step-sisters politely, then left. The three women sat astonished, looking at each other in disbelief.
“Be careful Mother,” warned Dildred, “she might contact her father.”
Mrs. Mable Mull nearly choked on the wafer biscuit she had been steadily munching and her huge round frame rocked back and forth as Dildred and Drona patted her on the back and offered her cups of water.
“The little peasant,” squeaked Mable Mull, “she'd better not!”
“Take care Mother,” warned Dildred again, “I've never seen her so angry and determined before.”
Meanwhile Cinderella marched down to the market, feeling rather exultant and bought bolts of material, thread and all sorts of odds and ends necessary for sewing. When she returned to the house, the other three women had just finished preparing dinner and Drona was setting the pots on the table. Cinderella sat herself down and started to eat.
“Thank you for such a delicious meal,” said Cinderella happily. Mable Mull's eyes bulged and little bumps formed on her forehead but after Dildred’s warning look, she said nothing but bustled back into the kitchen.
“I see you intend to do some sewing Cinderella,” commented Dildred warily.
“Yes,” replied Cinderella, sipping her tea.
“Oh good! You've decided to make our new dresses for the party after all, have you dear?” asked Drona, feigning kindness.
“No,” asserted Cinderella.
Mable Mull started coughing again.
“Why does that girl always have to speak like that when I'm swallowing something?” she thought to herself as she reached for a glass of water.
“What are you going to do with all that material?” asked Drona.
“You'll see,” she replied.
Dildred lay a steady hand on Mable Mull's arm to prevent her from jumping off the chair.
“Oh, by the way,” said Cinderella, “Father's coming for a visit next month. It will be so nice to see him after all this time, won't it?”
The three women stared in disbelief as Cinderella smoothly sailed around the room in her beautiful clothes, gathered her sewing and sat down to work.
Cinderella sewed and sewed while Mable Mull, Dildred and Drona looked on. Dildred mopped the floors, Drona cooked and Mable Mull peeled vegetables while sitting on a chair with a little table in front of her.
Cinderella would get up, without being asked, and clear or set the table, tidy the rooms and feed the cat.
Days passed and Cinderella left the house once again with bags of clothes that she'd made. After some hours she'd return with more bolts of cloth but the clothes would have disappeared. The three women hesitated to ask Cinderella for fear of making her angry. Should she tell her father about the grievous treatment they'd meted out to her, he'd be furious and might throw them out onto the street.
Cinderella started sewing again and so the same cycle continued. After a few days, she'd disappear with the clothes and return again with more cloth. The women were burning with curiosity.
One day a letter arrived for Cinderella from the Royal Palace. Mable Mull stared at it and with trembling hands gave it to Cinderella who read it then simply put it in her pocket and continued sewing.
“Aren't you going to tell us what it says?” asked Dildred in amazed desperation. Cinderella just smiled and kept working.
One day, two small ragged children with unkempt hair and dirty faces came and knocked on the door.
“Is Cinderella home?” they asked.
“No and get out of here, you dirty little brat. What do you want?” asked Drona.
“Cinderella told us to come here this morning,” they replied.
“Oh did she?” asked Mable Mull.
“Yes I did,” said Cinderella walking into the room.
“Come in dears.” Cinderella gave them a bag of clothes and said, “Go now and give this to your mother. How is she today?”
“Much better thank you,” replied the children politely.
Dildred’s forehead wrinkled and she looked out the corner of her eye.
“So that's what's she has been up to,” she muttered to herself.
Dildred stepped forward and placed two gold coins into the children's hands and said,
“Give this to your mother.”
“That's very kind of you Dildred,” said Cinderella. No more was said.
Mr. Smith arrived the following week and Cinderella ran out to greet him while Mable Mull and her daughters waited anxiously inside. Father and daughter happily walked into the house and Mr. James Smith greeted his family warmly. Dildred heaved a sigh of relief.
“Well aren't you all ready?” he asked.
“Ready for what?” asked Mable Mull eyeing him curiously.
“For Cinderella's wedding of course.”
They looked at each other and finally Dildred asked, “Wedding? Who's she going to marry? I haven't got a thing to wear!”
“And neither have I!” shouted Drona in despair.
James looked at Cinderella,
“Didn't you tell them Cinderella?”
“No father. I wanted to surprise them.”
“You should tell them now before their eyes fall out of their heads,” he laughed.
“I'm going to marry the Prince today,” she said quietly and happily.
“The Prince?” asked Dildred.
“How did you get to marry the Prince?” asked Drona.
“She became famous throughout the land in a very short time,” said James.
Mable Mulls’ head hung low and she asked
“Famous for what?”
“For making clothes for little orphan children. The prince simply decided that she was the kind of woman that he wanted to marry. Didn't you know what Cinderella's been doing Mable?”
“I don't like to pry James. She was busy sewing all the time and seemed happy, so I left her to it.”
“Its a mighty strange thing that you really don't know anything about it.”
James looked from Cinderella to Mable and the two girls.
“We're all busy at our own things father, there's no problem,” she said happily.
“Now let's get ready. Oh by the way father, did you prepare the pre-nuptial agreement for me and the Prince?”
“Yes,” said James reaching into his pocket.
“Pre-nuptial agreement?” asked Dildred.
“Yes,” said James, “Cinderella has some things she wants to make very clear before she marries.”
“What are they?” asked Dildred.
“Do you want me to tell them Cinderella?”
“Ok.”
“She wants a secured annual income. To retain her title and lands should there be a divorce and a grand house for both Dildred and Drona.”
“Really?” cried the girls.
“Yes really,” replied James Smith. She's a good girl, my Cinderella is and I'm proud of her.”
The two girls looked shyly down at the floor while Cinderella put on her new glass slippers that she'd just bought on sale for the occasion, then she walked out the door.