FOREWORD: The story you’re about to read is a work of humour, produced by a mind who’s asking you not to take it too seriously. Or am I? Decide for yourselves.
“The Fairy Godmother was not a pimp!” my good friend Anyibaba declared emphatically.
“She kinda was,” I countered.
“She was not!” he maintained.
“But she was. After all, she helped Cinderella on into the arms of a man.”
“For them to get married! Marriage o!” he yelled through the phone, as though volume would convince me. “There was no sex before marriage. She helped them to get married. That’s matchmaking, not pimping.”
“Storeee!” I scoffed. “Disney took the story of what happened, furnished it and sold it to you people in a pretty box, and now you believe, eh? Look, my friend, let me tell you what really happened–”
“I don’t want to hear o! I don’t want to hear!” he shrieked. I could almost picture him plugging his ears with his fingers and chanting, “La-la-la-la, la-la!”
Well, that’s alright, my dear friend and all you gullible Disney lovers. Since Anyibaba wouldn’t hear me out on the phone in a private conversation, I have decided to download the gist here, publicly.
So here’s what really happened.
It all started that night of the royal ball. Cinderella’s stepmother and stepsisters had already headed out in all their finery and bad attitude, leaving the poor girl huddled among the cinders of the fireplace in her deceased father’s house. The broom she’d been sweeping the cold ashes with was lying next to her, but she didn’t care for it.
Large globules of tears were dripping from her large, violet-coloured eyes as she lifted a distraught expression to meet the argent gaze of the moon through the window.
“Oh Father, why have I been forsaken so?” she cried, anguish rooting through her soul. “Why is misery my company and the burden of sorrow to forever keep my happiness buried? I am so alone, Father, and there is cruelty everywhere I turn. All I do is work, work, work, work. How can I remain the good girl you brought me up to be when there is so much evil weighing down on your daughter’s heart?”
And she dropped her head to the ground, her golden hair, streaked with soot and dirt, spilling out around her head and her slender shoulders shaking as her sobs wracked her body.
But Cinderella was not alone. Someone was listening, in a kingdom far, far away, tucked up high in the heavens. On a throne of indescribable beauty sat God. Thrumming through His essence was the resonation of an anguished woman’s cries.
God was not happy. He wanted to help. He swept His divine look around the vast, bronzed hall of Heaven’s capital, and said, “Who shall we send forth to bring comfort to this poor human’s heart and joy to her lips?”
On His right hand, His Son lifted his magnificent sable head. “Father, I have gone forth once before and given my life for the entire mankind.”
“Yes, my Son,” God acknowledged with a solemn nod. “Who else shall we send? Who else will go forth with good tidings for the stricken soul?”
Angel Gabriel, captain of the heavenly hosts, dropped to his knees before his commander-in-chief, his hair bright as beaten gold as he said, “Almighty God, Father of the Heavens and Keeper of the kingdoms below, Defender of the faint of heart, Source of all creation, and Conqueror of the Seven Earthly Realms, I implore you not to send one of us to this woman, for even the men folk cannot grasp the heart of a woman, let alone the angels who do not dwell among them.”
God was looking increasingly frustrated because He could also see Angel Gabriel’s point. But the grief of this one human was like His heartbeat. He could not ignore it.
“Who then shall we send?” He boomed.
“If it pleases the Almighty,” Angel Gabriel answered, “may I suggest the Fairy Godmother?”
“The Fairy Godmother?!” God railed, swelling with righteous rectitude.
In response to His fury, everyone in the hall fell to their knees, heads bowed, waiting.
Okay, let me give you a little background gist on why the mention of the Fairy Godmother’s name incited God’s annoyance. You see, back in the beginning of creation, when Lucifer was the prince of heaven and the brightest of the angels, the Fairy Godmother was the singular female angel among the heavenly hosts, and her femininity was a draw for Lucifer. Lucifer wanted her, but of course, Fairy (as she was known then) wouldn’t let him know her. Angels weren’t permitted carnal intimacy, you see. But Lucifer looked out on the earth, at the freedom the humans had been blessed with to indulge their desires, and he raged. His avarice eventually led to the great rebellion which ended in his banishment from Heaven.
Angel Fairy was not part of the rebellion, but she had been instrumental in its genesis. So while she wasn’t banished, her punishment was the withdrawal of her youth, to be replaced with eternal senectitude. Angel Fairy became the Fairy Godmother, the only wrinkled being in Heaven. And a constant reminder of the thorn that Lucifer was forever to be at God’s side.
“Rise,” God finally commanded.
The occupants of the hall rose.
“You’re right, Gabriel. She is the best choice. Get the Fairy Godmother and send her to ease the pain of the human. And let her tidings be pure and her direction of the human be that of goodness.”
And just like that, cushioned by gold bursts and silver dusts, of a brilliance that is almost blinding to the human eye, the emissary from Heaven, a svelte woman with an upsweep of salt-and-pepper hair, appeared before Cinderella, startling the young woman into recoiling from her.
“Hello, my child, do not cry. Help is here,” the Fairy Godmother drawled in a tone that betrayed the mind of an angel who had no intention of completely obeying God’s command.
TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW
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