Bitter Cinderella

If Cinderella was bitter and angry from years of poverty and suffering this would be the next chapter in the story.


Yes, the Glass Slipper fits.

But I will not go with you.

You stand shocked in your magnificent Uniform,
Black shoes and Spurs sparkling
Sword shining in its scabbard,
Proud blue eyes wide,
Handsome face stunned.

The Noble Prince of Legend,
High upon your pure blooded White Horse,
Impossibly handsome
The Royal Heir to the Throne.

Prince Henry Alexander
Your father gave a ball to find a queen,
but you found me instead.
We will marry
BUT you will be the one transformed, not me

You rode to my house on your beautiful Horse,
descending from your castle,
to bring your future queen back to your life
of Privilege and Royalty.

No. I have very different plans for you.

I will bring you into MY world of
menial work and sacrifice and exhaustion.

My step-sisters will never allow me to leave
my poverty.
Now you will join me....

My fairy Godfather is here to help transform you.
You came with a glass shoe for my foot.
A gift for me...

But now YOUR polished shoes and silk socks,
glittering spurs of a Knight,
footwear of a Prince,
are coming OFF your privileged feet.

Resistance is futile.
The Power that transformed mice into coachmen
is now transforming You.
Your perfectly polished shoes are being confiscated.

You are stunned and repelled and horrified
You resist and argue
You refuse and try to leave
Your pride and anger rise
But there is no escaping your destiny.

You are now the barefoot Prince among the cinders
Barefoot in your Dazzling Court Uniform
Would you ever dance barefoot in your elegant Palace
Naked soles instead of smartly clicking shoes?

You - who brought me the Gift of a Shoe to Control me?
Would you ride into Battle barefoot?
Would you sit on your Resplendent Throne barefoot?
I will control You ....and we will see how much you like the change.

Now my barefoot Prince,
Surrender your splendid Royal Sword
Yes your Sword!
You will not be fighting battles anymore
No more Royal Court
No more Quests
No need for a Sword.

Now my barefoot Prince,
Your Medals are plucked off your chest
You shudder as, against your, will we steal the
Medals won in battle, inherited from Ancestors.
Symbols of your proud Royal self into our hands.

Now my barefoot Prince.
Your White Gloves are peeled off your hands
Aristocratic hands. Clean hands.
That Gold Ring with the Royal Insignia. That has to go as well.
I yank it off your long, thin finger.

Yes! Now strip off your magnificent Imperial Uniform.
Scarlet Tunic and pressed striped blue Trousers
Royal Sash and Epaulettes
that belong to your former Princely life.

Strip faster!
Unbutton that Scarlet Tunic with the Gold buttons.
Take off your Tailored Uniform Pants.
You must learn to obey....

We cannnot leave his former Imperial Majesty naked.
Here are the rough clothes of a peasant farmer
made of rough burlap.
Now step into your new 'uniform' of labor and poverty.

You struggle with outrage and frustration and sheer horror
but a surge of courage gives way
and crumbles into dust
as my Fairy Godfather strips you of your inherited
Nobility and Privilege.

Your wonderful Uniform is taken away from you.

It is now the time to...
Say goodbye forever to your beautiful White Horse...
Yes, your Heroic, Noble Steed
Will be sold to to a traveling fair.

I am stealing everything.
You are being pillaged, robbed and ruined.

Send a message to the King and Queen
You are renouncing your Royal Throne
Your birthright
Your former life and former future
All that you once were
and all that you were born to be.

You independent will no longer exists.

They will be shocked
They will beg you to return
You will refuse all of their pleas
You will remain
and they will give the Crown to your cousin....

You are no longer Prince Henry Alexander
Soon to be King Henry Alexander IV...
What name is that for a peasant?
You are now Hank
That is all. Just Hank.

Renounce your Princely Education
your formal training
your upper class speech and manner.
We will help you strip yourself
of your High Position.
Do not worry.

We will invade your mind and heart
and remove all traces of  your Princely self

Your Aristocratic identity is already dead.
There is no more Prince Henry Alexander
NO! He is no more.....

We will sell your splendid Sword and Shield
Yes! Symbols of your Regal Masculine Power
They MUST be sold to break your proud spirit completely

We will trade your former sparkling black shoes
for a pig
Exchange your former Brilliant Uniform
For a goat
Your former ring with the Royal Insignia
for grain and seeds
Trade in your former Spurs for a Plow.

Your black silk socks have the monogram of your
former name.
We will exhange the socks you no longer wear
for farm tools.

Now it is time to take your Hair.

Your head of wonderful Golden hair,
the hair of a Prince on a Throne,
the hair of Warrior in Battle,
hair for a Palace, hair for a Ball.

I remember the palace lights
shining on your beautiful Golden hair....
Shining, flowing Blond hair
blowing in the cool wind
on an Autumn day.
A bright Golden Flame on the
battlefield.

All that glorious hair
must be shaved off.

Your handsome face already in shock.
Your mouth drops open.

Come to me. Sit in the cinders.
I will cut off all your hair. After the Shearing.
your Golden hair will be sold.
A pile of silky soft Gold
to make a wig for a wealthy bald man.
Let him wear the former Princely hair with pride.
YOUR pride and dignity are shriveling and
vanishing like raindrops on a bald man's
scalp on a hot day

You will work long hours in the fields
You will sow and reap, tend the animals,
Chop trees, you will be a beast of burden,
We have no Ox.
We will attach the plow to your Princely shoulders.

You will have no need of rich, thick, full golden hair.
You will have a cloth cap to cover your shaven skull.

Your straight and splendid posture
befitting a Prince
will be broken by the plow.

Your Princely hands and feet are smooth, clean, white
protected by shoes, silk,
superb boots, spurs, gloves.
But soon the earth and rain and wind
will enter and crack them.

Remember, do not think of an escape.
We hold you here with the power
That turned a Pumpkin into a Coach.
Do not dream of a Moonlight flight
On Your beautiful, beloved White Horse,
Groomed in the Royal Stables,
waiting outside my humble house
waiting for his former Master
As I have told you, he is no longer yours.
He is tied up in our barn.
A traveling fair will love a Proud White Horse.

Together we will stand in the dust as the King
rides by. The Sovereign who was once your Father.
Now just your ruler. You will bow obediently.

A transformation indeed.
What a change - from dancing at the Royal Ball,
proud and haughty and handsome,
to your new degraded life of humiliation

Together we will live a life of drudgery.
We will have children who will never know
their Royal lineage.
You have descended to my level
and here you will remain...

Settle among the cinders with me
rest your naked feet, still longing for their former shoes
and dream of what you have lost
and of the man you once were.

You are not a Prince now
I will mock you by calling you "Your Majesty"
to remind you, as a gentle joke for summer nights...