A Glass Slipper’s Story

Would you believe me if I told you Cinderella had stinky feet? I didn’t think so, but then again no one would know better than me. She’s also very heavy… I’m surprised I lasted this long. Running… that was a big no-no. Do you know how much strain that put on me? The pain of hitting the floor repeatedly at a fast pace pushes more of her weight onto me.

I thought I would have cracked.

Of course, that’s not what happened. I’m sitting here, on the stairs, because I slipped off her foot. Cinderella didn’t even see fit to turn around and pick me back up. What a… well, I suppose I’m being too harsh on her. She did have a midnight curfew, after all. I can’t blame her for trying to rush home so quickly.

Then that prince—little Mr. Hoity-Toity—had to pick me up and practically worship me. Not that I’m complaining about that, it’s about time someone noticed just how invaluable I am. It just got annoying… day in and day out he’d stare at me, sigh, and start talking about the girl as if I could hear him.

Which, I could, but he didn’t know that. At least I hope he didn’t. Curse being a magical glass slipper! I bet you anything that old bag of a fairy godmother had this planned from the beginning because I’m so… what’s the word? Cynical, as she says. I’m a glass slipper—who wears glass slippers? I wanted to be a vase filled with beautiful flowers, but no, I had to be something to adorn gross feet of the ‘needy’.

At least I get some use, I suppose. After all, I am going to be part of this happily-ever-after and I do get to basically be a main character in the story, considering I’m the only thing linking this poor excuse for a prince to the girl who probably possesses more strength and muscle than he does. That’s actually pretty funny when you think about it. She’s done chores and hard labor her entire life, while he sits on plush, soft furniture and listens to political debates.

I think we all know who’s going to wear the pants in this relationship. Poor guy is going to be whipped.

Let’s get back on track here, people. You’re supposed to stop me from rambling like this.

So here I am, sitting on a purple silk pillow with gold tassels. It’s actually not that bad of a place to be set—better than that old shoe box I’m usually stuffed in, and better than being on some smelly foot. The prince is sitting there staring at me again, obviously groveling at the fact I’m his only memento from Cinderella—not that he even knows her name.

If you think about it, this sounds a lot like he’s had a one night stand with the girl. This is a story for little kids, people, adding in all these undetermined things is bad. They’ll get ideas. Or maybe I’m just sadly perverted—a perverted glass shoe.

Anyway, so prince man is looking at me with that normal sad expression when he suddenly lightens up, grabs me and then storms out of the palace. Looks like he’s figured out the reason why the old bag didn’t summon me back—he’s going to have to find her using me.

Great, I get to have more stinky feet fill me up. I better not become a carrier of athlete’s foot after this—I’ll kick Cinderella and the prince for it later.

He takes me all over the kingdom, swooning girls trying their hardest to make it seem like their foot was meant for the shoe. What were the chances that the last home he would visit that day would be Cinderella’s? I’m not saying that he was going to pick up again tomorrow—it really is the last house in the village.

What really makes me laugh is how he’s letting people with brown, black, and red hair try me on when he knows Cinderella has blonde hair. Didn’t he notice her hair color? This boy really is a sad being. How can he even think these two girls are Cinderella? They’re ugly!

Alright, that was harsh… but so very true.

Then Cinderella comes down the stairs. Finally—I’d take her stinky feet over that of anyone else any day, even if she does sweat. Prince boy seems to think she can’t possibly be one—what a moron.

He is a complete, utter, and total moron.

She puts me on, and of course I fit. What do you know! They get to have their happily ever after. Now I can go back to the fairy godmother and demand to become a vase. I am not cut out for this shoe business.