Food, Travel, Design and the occassional wordiness

My Cinderella Story June 2, 2009

Filed under: Mouth full of potatoes — Kolika C @ 7:40 am

Part I
I am not your regular Cinderella.
And if I have to be, for fantasy purposes of getting you through the day, you, Achilles, you have to be the Dinosaur that I would slay. Hopping on a hoofed-up, steroid pumping, pink pony with a red devil spiky tail, I will slay you.
That pony is dressed to suit your little sister’s bedtime story book and the color on her walls but inside it’s just a soul-wounded, young, tiger cub.
The kind of fat kid that the kinds of handsome Simba bully in the community jungle-ground. As if having Lion King as Dad and a charmer baby-face with imploring puppy eyes could buy Sly Simba anything beyond Broadway dough. But yeah, as much as you realize the truth and read between his whiskers, these clever Simba-s are born winners. They effortlessly glide through life and you can only hope in your dark dreams (like Eeyore does) that they fall off a cliff somewhere or burn…
…Ah! I see, you thought Eeyore was the tail-tied donkey from Winnie the Pooh, eh? Wrong again! He’s a ‘tongue-tied’ young tiger, I repeat, not the happy ones like Tigger jumping on his rear; but the ‘seemingly’ resigned, quite ones that has friends who are way too dumb to realize what is bothering him. The light headed lot of ale pumping friends.

But hey, that’s why he left them and came to me for a job (and a life); and well, I needed someone too. My old, fairy-blue, hybrid pumpkin-carriage was starting to get a drinking problem and you know how every summer beverage prices shoot up, its hard to keep up with this economy I tell you. Yes dumb*** I am not your regular Cinderella, painting my toenails on your window sill.
I needed someone who’d carry me around, talk to my schizophrenic evil twin….oh okay fine, not my twin… see, I call her a twin and her? She calls me a manifestation of her sickness (and that is when medicated….) at other times, its like I don’t even exist!
It (her ‘pharmacy abuse’) all started with the bright green patulin coated apple that Eve, our step-mother sent her. I told her, “you got apple you gotta make pie and mail it to the return address”. But no, she ate it in perfect size00 proportions! She should know better; especially since Eve already did that to her ex, Adam…yeah, she wanted a lot, Adam oblivious to the wants and ‘vices’ of femme nature… she was soon bored and that’s when she met my father (poor Adam, still doesn’t get what hit him!)
…Now my father is a different man–a doting, obsessed individual I tell you, more of a father-figure than a father really…that too, to our youngest cousin, the Little Mermaid. Its all about fish and fins, aroma therapy and yoga… he spends half his royal court-time is his retreat kingdom under the sea! Get that!
And we, figments of Bedtime Fairy land are not allowed mothers for some obscure reasons. Our mothers lay the eggs and off they fly on a broom so high! And our Doting Daddy-s remarry to get us our Evil Eve Step mothers.

Now this boy Adam, I’ve always had a thing for him. That is before he shed his Tarzan colored khakis for the white dog-collar (the apple I tell you!). He used to dig my sort of poetry and expressionist art stuff that the likes of you will never get. I forgive you for that. He was all lyrically elusive, the kind whose abuse the likes of me soak in and gobble down by the kilo, with a vinaigrette dressing and cherry….
My kind of masochistic, un-pink, Cinderella-s.

So yeah coming back to Eeyore, he’s the kind that took the long hard way to the top, his top, to actually be my personamate. I don’t know if that’s a word in your dictionary but the grade-school I went to gave me a bonus 0.2 grade point for coining this in my damnation letter-competition.
Eeyore was the one who introduced us remember? At the country fair grounds where I rallied against ‘Christmas in July’….what a concept seriously! I left bed-bugs in the rented clothes, the kids got huge big rashes and boils…Oh what a sight! It still cracks me up. It’s funny until someone gets hurt and then it becomes hilarious. Calvin, the neighbor kid, the one that ended up marrying Susie after high school (remember Susie?) used to say something like this. Hobbes used to talk about him ALL the time, all the time… he’d sit by the dumpster there and chat with Eeyore about what Calvin would say and what he’d do and how weirdly funny his parents were (like we didn’t know)…. But Eeyore didn’t know… so he enjoyed; and not only that, the entrepreneur that he is, he did this new thing on Facebook where he had these up as quotes…yeah, whatever! you aren’t listening I can tell…. I know you’re primitive, you’re a dinosaur! Not only do you wag like one, you think like one too. Catch up, I tell you, catch up or I’ll slay you. Smack you on your head with the new omelet maker Mom gave me….

Oops. Okay so now you know Mom’s back. After having a fulfilling egg-ditching session of 30 prime years, one fine afternoon, she parked her broom on our palace grounds and strode in on her bright red slippers, all gadgety and sharp. Gadgety …now that’s from Grand-Daddy Clause! Ah, her dark flowing hair promising some silver underneath… oh! how awesome that will look with her brown, frowning skin. And sharp, oh my, she’s the Marketing Guru for the biggest toy company on earth she’s hovering over their shoulders to make the sales and the promotions, she even influenced me to get Eeyore the pink color I was talking of (the red spiky tail was my idea… it came free) ! Said that will look better on your sister’s bedtime story book…and what not…oh yeah, you’re saying that worked? Who asked for your opinion? I’m talking here. It is my Cinderella story!

But besides streaks of silver, she also has had some very prominent streaks of luck.
You know the whole story don’t you? How Passion of the Christ was actually behind this all? So God didn’t like what his young son was up to and asked him to go ahead and make it on his own. Along came Jesus, handsome young Capricorn with a warm smile that could win you over in a jiffy! And so that’s what happened, he bagged a job at Santa’s workshop in the Nilgiri-s its sort of south west of where Santa lived in northern Myanmar. As Jesus was working his way out of his teenage rebel mode, Grand-Daddy Clause was working his way up in the market share in the toy business… Then one day, God took his son back, all grateful to Santa how well, he had trained his son. God gifted Santa the huge workshop at North Pole. So Mom and her family moved west. Now you know, beneath the frost bite its all brown skin… no matter how much she’s known as the Wicked Witch of the West, she will always be the Eastern brain, the slanted eyes, the brown skin. No wonder, half the egg-ditched, abandoned world is brown and jaundiced yellow, with slanted eyes. Us too. Yeah, me, Cinderella… your darling Snow White’s twin is brown… makes me wonder what Snow White really is…Mud Brown? ‘Mud Brown’ that’s what they called her in school and she got all worked up. I just laughed. I sat with the youngest of the dwarfs in the lunchroom and laughed. Why did it matter to her? Didn’t matter to me!
So yeah after all this being inflicted on poor Maddy Muddy, my Mom was back to take charge of her daughters’ lives… ‘Okay’ I said, like I cared. Maddy Mud put up a fight. I calmed her down. ‘ Gave her a pinch of her apple. That’s all you need to do; a little apple a day keeps the madness away… ha ha now you know.
But she wasn’t really back to take charge of us, she was here to build her own army and Maddy Mud was hopeless at that. So I took it up with vigor. I like that sort of stuff you know. We charged to Put-in-dump. They were having island celebrations for ‘Christmas in July’. Now the whole gift giving thing, Grand-Daddy Clause started it so he could express his gratitude to God and Jesus for his business boom and he did it on Jesus’ birthday. Who gave them the authority to move it to July? If they want it warmer go live in the southern hemisphere…don’t you change dates to suit your needs!
Durga was complaining about it too in her email the other day. I first met Durga when she came as an exchange student for the damnation class I took. Our clicking was like instant coffee. Probably because we were both coffee-colored and had a thing about not wearing pink and keeping toe-nails unpainted…! Yeah I have that sort of conversation with her. Real trivial stuff that we both hate with a vigor that’s rare, I hear it’s popular with the female crowd now. Strange. Never thought I would set trends among the ‘Cosmopolitan’ reading thickets.
Now her (Durga) situation, I don’t get it all, but as much as I do, these people from the east will go and live all around the world and reschedule the festivals according to their schedules because they love the yens and pounds they earn and cant stand up to their white, white-collared bosses to say ‘screw you guys I’m going home’ (I love Eric Cartman) so they make her come to town on weekends! When she’d rather be catching up on sleep…she has 4 children, a nutcase husband and an obscene number of pets… they obviously don’t believe in controlling numbers!
Its something like that and I tell her, fight it, but I don’t think she will… upto her twin now, she says… chop off a couple heads I say, hang them near the cave window like those 40 thieves did, but no, Kali prefers to carry it around…Okay okay, don’t cringe; she wouldn’t kill a dinosaur… that’s something I will do, Achilles. I will, for your peace and mine.

….(to be continued)
For Part II go to http://kolika.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-cinderella-story-part-2.html


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