Cinderella and the Sleeping Prince

by Ronald Larsen

Cinderella slumped near a crumbling dry fountain on a weedy terrace, sobbing uncontrollably. “My life is horrible. I wish I could just die. Why, oh why, can’t somebody help me?”

“You called?”

She looked up, shocked to see a small red dragon hovering above the debris-filled fountain. “Who and what are you?” she asked incredulously.

“Name’s Ferd, and I’m your fairy god-dragon.”

“I’ve never heard of a fairy god-dragon,” she said between sobs.

“Well, yeah, neither had I. But I needed a job, this gig was available, and here I am.”

“What? What? Why?”

“Okay, here’s the deal. I got into a poker game with the big bad wolf and the three little pigs. Those guys aren’t as dumb as they look. They took me for everything I had and then some. I need cash and the Fairy Godmother Agency needed somebody quickly. Half down and half on satisfactory completion of the job. So here I am, your official fairy god-dragon. Now, just who are you and what’s your problem?” the dragon asked, perching on the fountain.

She dabbed at her bloodshot eyes with a corner of her ripped dress. “They call me Cinderella. I live in this run-down old manor house. After my father died, my stepmother forced me to work as a scullery maid and dress in rags.

“The king is throwing a ball tonight for the prince, and all eligible maidens in the kingdom were commanded to attend. I managed to make one of my mother’s old dresses presentable and tried to accompany my ‘family,’ such as they are, to the ball.”

She started sobbing again. “My... my stepmother and stepsisters ripped up my lovely dress, tore off my sash and beads, called me a stupid little bitch, and went off to the palace without me.”

“So you need them offed, right? No problemo. Don’t even need a wand. A little puff of dragon breath and—”

“Offed?”

“Snuffed, rubbed out, permanently removed for what they did to you.”

“No! No! I’d never do a thing like that. I was just so hoping to go to the ball, is all.”

“Need a fairy godmother to bail you out, do you?”

“Something like that.”

“At your service Cindy. Now let’s get to work. Where’s your pumpkins? Where’s the mices? Where’s your shoes?”

“We don’t have any pumpkins, only a few zucchini that managed to survive among the weeds in the garden. There’s three mangy mice in a trap near the house and my raggedy, smelly old slippers are sitting just outside the kitchen door.”

“We’ll have to make do. Now, where’s my darned magic wand?” The dragon looked around.

“What’s that behind your ear?”

“Oh, yeah, there it is.” He pulled the wand from behind his ear, pressed a button and a spot of light appeared on the old fountain.

“What kind of wand is that?”

“Magic laser pointer. It’s all they had left in the office.” He waved it toward the weedy garden and pressed the button. “Ala-ka-zam.” A zucchini rose up, flew over, wobbled in the air for a moment near the fountain, then turned into a coach that looked like a giant green hotdog. The vines twisted themselves into wheels and a harness, a seat for a coachman popped out on one end and a door and window appeared on the side of the coach.

The dragon waved his laser pointer toward the house and pressed the button. A pair of dingy ragged slippers came flying onto Cinderella’s feet, changing into stylish pumps as they did so. Another wave and button-press, and three scrawny mice landed in front of the coach and morphed into rather anemic-looking grey horses.

Cinderella looked askance at the coach and horses, then down at her feet. “Green coach? Only three horses and all grey? Alligator pumps?”

“Sorry. I had a little dysentery after the poker game and was sitting on the can when they covered the part about gold coaches, white horses and glass slippers in the fairy godmother class.”

He took a good look at her ripped dress. “That dress is going to take some work. And did you know your right boob is sticking out? Best save that part till you get something going with the prince.”

As she blushed and tried to cover up, he waved the pointer and pressed the button again. The dress mended itself into a gorgeous light blue gown with a scarlet sash. Cinderella’s stringy, tangled hair became a gorgeous blonde coiffure, tied with a pink ribbon. “Not bad,” he said, “I got that part right, anyway.”

The dragon looked around. “We need a coachman. Where’s your dog?”

“He died two weeks ago.”

“Cat?”

She shook her head.

“More mices? Rats? Groundhogs?”

Cinderella just shook her head. Suddenly she swatted at something on her arm. “Darn mosquito.”

“The bugger will have to do.” The dragon raised the wand, pressed the button and poof! the mosquito morphed into a skinny coachman with a very long nose, dressed in a green uniform with two rows of brass buttons on his coat. “Now, I suggest you don’t swat him, even if he gets fresh,” he said.

The coachman grinned.

“Okay, you’re ready to go,” the dragon announced.

“Thanks,” she said in shocked tones.

“Hey, it’s my first fairy god-dragon gig. Sure, it’s a coach-and-three made from a squash and some mices, alligator shoes, and no tiara. But the dress is nice, the hairdo is good, and here’s a squirt of some powerful flowery perfume the prince will love. The setup will work. You look great for a former scullery maid.”

Cinderella was relieved that things seemed to be working out, but she was still a bit anxious. She climbed into her coach. “Thank you.”

“Oh, yeah. You’ve got until 11 o’clock. The coach, the horses, the coachman and the dress will turn back into a squash, mices, a mosquito and rags at the last stroke of 11.”

“I thought—”

“Yeah, I know: midnight. Sorry. Best I can do. Darn god-dragon union rules.”

She nodded.

“Okay, now when you get to the palace, some dude is going to park your coach for you. Grease him to keep it first in line so you can make a fast getaway when the church bell starts to chime 11.”

“Grease him?”

“Pay him, kiddo. Obviously you ain’t been around much.”

“I’m a scullery maid,” she protested. “And pay him with what?”

“Oh. Hold out your hand.” The dragon waved his wand and pressed the button again. Three pebbles lifted into Cinderella’s hand where they turned into three silver coins. “With those. Now off you go. Have fun!”

* * *

Everything went as Cinderella had hoped. She arrived at the palace fashionably late, was escorted into the ballroom, and was immediately spotted by the prince who spent the entire evening dancing with her, snuggling on the terrace, and even trying to cop a free feel.

Cinderella was enjoying the experience so much she forgot about the time. As the church bell began to toll 11, she leaped to her feet and exclaimed: “Oh my goodness! I forgot!”

“Goodbye,” she called to the prince as she sprinted for the palace entrance. She lost one of her alligator pumps as she raced down the marble steps, but didn’t pause in her mad flight. Leaping into her coach, which was first in line as promised, Cinderella frantically commanded the coachman, “Hurry, oh hurry! I can’t let him see me as a scullery maid dressed in rags.”

As the final stroke of 11 sounded, the effect of the magic spells ceased. A scruffy girl with stringy hair, a dirty face and a ragged dress was dumped unceremoniously at the side of the road. The mice, the mosquito and pieces of zucchini scattered like leaves in the wind.

Cinderella sighed deeply as she picked up her one remaining ragged slipper. “Guess I have to walk home barefoot. But it was wonderful, just wonderful.”

Back at the palace, the bewildered prince picked up the alligator pump and breathed deeply of the fragrant perfume of his newfound love. However, as the last stoke of 11 died away, the pump again became a ragged, smelly slipper. Inhaling deeply once more, all the prince could say was, “My Lord, that smells terrible,” before he keeled over in a deep sleep.

The next day, the court physician reported to the king, “Your Majesty, the prince appears to be in a magical sleep, and nothing we can do will wake him. He has a slipper clenched tightly in his hand, and we cannot pry the stinking thing loose without injuring him.”

The grief-stricken king summoned his goldsmith. “Build a golden bier with a crystal cover. Lay the prince in it, and we’ll keep watch over him in the ballroom until some way is found to wake him.”

It was quickly done.

* * *

A couple of days later, Cinderella was going through the motions of sweeping the littered terrace, pining for her lost love, when with a pop the red dragon appeared. “Ferd! What are you doing here?”

“Seems somebody at the palace suspected some magic misfired recently and a complaint was filed with the Fairy Godmother Agency. Took a while to process things. You know how slow paperwork goes. But they called me in, told me I’d bungled the job and refused to pay me the second half of my dough. I’ve gotta square up with the wolf and pigs, so I talked the Agency into giving me a chance to fix things.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Still got that slipper?”

“Yes, but—”

“Get it, stick it in your pocket and let’s go.”

“Where?”

“To the palace of course. Got to revive the Sleeping Beauty.”

Cinderella did as she was told. The dragon pressed the button and waved his wand, and the two of them were transported into the palace ballroom, to the surprise and shock of the king and his courtiers.

“Take the lid off that jar, then gimme some room to work,” Ferd commanded.

The terrified courtiers did as they were told.

Raising his magic laser pointer, the dragon pressed the button, and the decrepit slipper in the prince’s hand turned into a shiny alligator pump.

The dazed prince woke and sat up, looking dumbly at the beautiful shoe in his hand.

The dragon cleared his throat and curtsied in the air. “Good morning, brave Prince. I’d like to introduce you to Cinderella, the belle of your ball.”

The prince blinked. “A dirty scullery maid?”

“Oops. You got that other slipper, Cindy?”

“Right here.” She pulled it from her pocket.

The dragon waved the wand at Cinderella. Her rags transformed into a beautiful blue gown, her dirty face became that of a radiant beauty, and two alligator pumps appeared on her dainty feet.

“Hot damn, it is you!” the prince cried. “How’d you like to get married and live happily ever after in my little 50-room palace here?”

“You’ve talked me into it, you smooth-talker you.”

“Okay, we’re good now,” the dragon announced. “I love a happy ending. Now to pay off the wolf and those pigs.”