Fairy Tale Friday 3
BIOU's Fairy Tale Friday 3
Schizerella sat amid the muck and filth of her run-down Alabama shit-hole, stalking the internet for something banal and off-topic to post to her favorite newsgroups, when she came across a post about a fancy ball, hosted by Prince Stang, which all the ladies were attending.
She extracted her hefty finger from deep within her nostril, examined her findings, and made up her mind to attend. “Just because I haven’t been invited, and I seem unwanted, and nobody likes to deal with me, and I don’t have a job, and I’m an absurdly gyrating blob who attempts to force my inarticulate and uninteresting blah blah blah on everyone, doesn’t mean I can be kept from attending this party. Good luck with THAT!” she gurgled, and paused to pick a off a crusty piece of rice-a- roni that had dried to her favorite zebra appliqué sweatshirt. “The San Francisco Treat,” she mumbled, eating it.
A fancy ball is no place to wear your every day purple tarp! So Schizerella flung wide the doors of her closet and stared at the mess of shit within. One pair of khaki pants from her brief employment at Papa Johns, four sizes too small and stained with pizza sauce. Seven frayed and dingy veils, holes rotted through the mouth area as if from a chemical burn. One potato sack from her days as a dancing potato in the supermarket, which bore the words “IDAHO’S BEST” in red block letters across the middle. Nothing seemed right.
Suddenly, Jesus appeared, and the strains of “Kung Fu Fighting” filled the room. “I see that you are in need of help, Schizerella,” He said. “I love all of my Father’s Creatures. Blessed are the pathetic, for they shall inherit a ride”, and with a wave of His magic wand, he transformed a turnip into a coach, and the scuttling cockroaches that darted around on the sticky linoleum into horses, and a blow-up love doll into a coachman. “Shazzam!” screamed the Lord, and did some of His favorite dance moves.
“What about my CLOTHES?” wailed Schizerella. “WHO is going to provide me with NEW CLOTHES?” She winced at the recollection of the last time
someone had given her new clothes, the painful embarrassment of the handcuffs, and the cold leather seat of the police car under her naked buttocks.
“Well damn!” said Jesus. “Blessed are the pains in My ass, for they shall inherit a stunning new wardrobe!” and with a waggle of His fingers, her stained and wretched purple tarp was transformed into a glittering ballgown, and the crusted matt of her hair was transformed into a full-head helmet, with goggles, and a dark tint.
“What about my BODY ODOR” Schizerella griped, but even the Son of Man could do nothing about that.
So she set out in her turnip coach, driven by Mister Moldyvalve, her enchanted coachmen, and eventually she rolled up on the ball. Prince
Stang and his men in waiting were at the gate when she arrived.
She tumbled out of her turnip coach, clomped up to the prince, and said, “Well I see it is time for that party again and I’m here for that party and I have a blues tape by Eric Clapton but somebody’s going to have to pay the entrance fee for me because I don’t have benefits because mesicans took my job from good hard working American people who don’t have time to be printing out their own job applications, I mean if you’re into that kind of waste of time maybe you should try watching the view there’s a recipe on there for tuna noodle casserole but you can replace the tuna with noodles and the noodles with mashed potatoes and that’s just as good as long as it’s not soupy, good luck with that.”
But Prince Stang could only shake his head sadly.
“You missed the ball, Schizerella. It ended a week ago. How long did it take you to get here from Alabama by horse-drawn carriage? And why are your horses so small, and scuttly?”
Schizerella went wild with rage! She flailed and thrashed so violently that she staggered out into the road, where she was run over and killed by a cart full of Amish girls on their way to Atlantic City. Buzzards picked her to pieces and the next heavy rainfall washed her bones into the gutter.
The end! Happy Friday, everyone!