Once upon a time, there lived a girl named Cinderella. She stayed with her rich father and her cruel stepmother named Martha and stepsisters named Honey and Rosie. It was a wonder that the gentleman chose the mean, stingy bitch as his wife. They were the subject of many rumours, some say he got drunk one day and knocked her up. Others were only too glad to add that it was a hysterical pregnancy. She went up and then down. Nevertheless, gentleman that he was, he did the right thing and married her. She too did the right thing and married his money.
His biological daughter, Cinderella, was as far from the three step-women as you could get. She was virtuous, kind, generous and helpful. The contrast in looks was even greater, she was so pretty that people more than once suggested that her father's wealth came from her body. A charge he furiously denied, blaming the Liberal media for spreading lies about her spreading legs.
One not so fine day, the father died. He was beaten to death by a group of Black drug addicts after he called one of them a "smelly hippie nigger". All hell broke loose for poor Cinderella. Barely a day after his closed-casket funeral, the stepmother and daughters produced a will stating that they owned everything, including Cinderella. She was made a slave, serving their every need and cleaning every corner of the house.
Years flew away as Cinderella became resigned to her fate. Then, Prince Arthas sent out a notice that a ball would be held to select his bride. The stepmother and her fugly daughters dressed in their Sunday best, namely clothes which showed as much as possible, and went off to the ball. Cinderella was left to wash the dishes after their dinner.
Sobbing bitterly, she suddenly remembered a little detail of her pre-orphan life. Cinderella dashed to the phone and called an old friend of her. Within minutes, a black Cadillac stopped at her house.
Her fairy Godfather stepped out. "Yo hoe, I see ya got no way to go to the muthafuckin' ball yo? Well I'm gonna help you rock da house! Usual 20 percent of profits and we'll show those niggas who's da boss!"
Decked out in a two-piece red bikini, Cinderella waved to her Godfather as she zoomed off in the Cadillac. Of course, she stunned the Prince at the ball. He ignored the calls of all the noble ladies and danced through the night with Cinderella. He was about to propose when the clock struck midnight.
Suddenly, Cinderella felt a tight cramp in her stomach and saw a stain on her bikini bottom. Damn, she thought, it was that time of the month again! She ran down the stairs and dropped a glass slipper for her Prince, fleeing all the way back home, her car outrunning even the fastest racers of the royal guards.
Life returned to normal. The Prince went into his usual depression, cutting himself with a razor as his guards reported failure after failure in finding the owner of the slipper. Then, a pimp arrived at the palace with news of the girl. They rushed to the house and the Prince himself slipped the glass slipper onto her foot.
"It is you, my beloved." he exclaimed breathlessly.
"Yes, my Prince. But before we get married, I need a little favour." She replied with love in her eyes.
"Name it, our nuptial awaits."
She turned to her stepmother and sisters.
"O Spartan dogs, more fell than anguish, hunger or the sea! To you, Prince Arthas, remains the censure of these hellish villains. The time, the place, the torture. O, enforce it!"
As the guards dragged the women away, the Prince and Cinderella walked away, hand in hand. The wedding that followed was the stuff of fairy tales.
The marriage itself? Well, the Prince soon got bored and divorced her. He released Rosie from prison and married the ugly stepsister. History repeated itself; the union was the subject of many rumours. The truth, of course, was very simple:
She gave great head.
They lived happily ever after.
His biological daughter, Cinderella, was as far from the three step-women as you could get. She was virtuous, kind, generous and helpful. The contrast in looks was even greater, she was so pretty that people more than once suggested that her father's wealth came from her body. A charge he furiously denied, blaming the Liberal media for spreading lies about her spreading legs.
One not so fine day, the father died. He was beaten to death by a group of Black drug addicts after he called one of them a "smelly hippie nigger". All hell broke loose for poor Cinderella. Barely a day after his closed-casket funeral, the stepmother and daughters produced a will stating that they owned everything, including Cinderella. She was made a slave, serving their every need and cleaning every corner of the house.
Years flew away as Cinderella became resigned to her fate. Then, Prince Arthas sent out a notice that a ball would be held to select his bride. The stepmother and her fugly daughters dressed in their Sunday best, namely clothes which showed as much as possible, and went off to the ball. Cinderella was left to wash the dishes after their dinner.
Sobbing bitterly, she suddenly remembered a little detail of her pre-orphan life. Cinderella dashed to the phone and called an old friend of her. Within minutes, a black Cadillac stopped at her house.
Her fairy Godfather stepped out. "Yo hoe, I see ya got no way to go to the muthafuckin' ball yo? Well I'm gonna help you rock da house! Usual 20 percent of profits and we'll show those niggas who's da boss!"
Decked out in a two-piece red bikini, Cinderella waved to her Godfather as she zoomed off in the Cadillac. Of course, she stunned the Prince at the ball. He ignored the calls of all the noble ladies and danced through the night with Cinderella. He was about to propose when the clock struck midnight.
Suddenly, Cinderella felt a tight cramp in her stomach and saw a stain on her bikini bottom. Damn, she thought, it was that time of the month again! She ran down the stairs and dropped a glass slipper for her Prince, fleeing all the way back home, her car outrunning even the fastest racers of the royal guards.
Life returned to normal. The Prince went into his usual depression, cutting himself with a razor as his guards reported failure after failure in finding the owner of the slipper. Then, a pimp arrived at the palace with news of the girl. They rushed to the house and the Prince himself slipped the glass slipper onto her foot.
"It is you, my beloved." he exclaimed breathlessly.
"Yes, my Prince. But before we get married, I need a little favour." She replied with love in her eyes.
"Name it, our nuptial awaits."
She turned to her stepmother and sisters.
"O Spartan dogs, more fell than anguish, hunger or the sea! To you, Prince Arthas, remains the censure of these hellish villains. The time, the place, the torture. O, enforce it!"
As the guards dragged the women away, the Prince and Cinderella walked away, hand in hand. The wedding that followed was the stuff of fairy tales.
The marriage itself? Well, the Prince soon got bored and divorced her. He released Rosie from prison and married the ugly stepsister. History repeated itself; the union was the subject of many rumours. The truth, of course, was very simple:
She gave great head.
They lived happily ever after.