It was the night of the palace
ball and Cinderella couldn't stop crying. Her fairy God-mother was very distraught.
"Cinderella," she said, "Why are you crying? You have a beautiful
gown, a shiny pair of glass slippers, and you're about to have one of the best evenings of
your life!" But Cinderella continued to cry. "I know," she said,
sobbing, "but I've looked everywhere and I can't find my diaphragm! What am I
going to do!?!" she cried again.
The fairy Godmother thought
for a moment, and then said, "I'll make you a diaphragm, but only for tonight and you
HAVE to be back by midnight or it will turn into a pumpkin." "Thank
you! Thank you!" she shrieked, and she went hurrying out the door so she
wouldn't be late.
The fairy God-mother smiled,
happy to have pleased Cinderella so much. She settled down in front of the fire to
await Cinderella's return.
The fairy God-mother waited. And she
waited. And she waited, until finally 12 o'clock rolled around and there was still
no sign of Cinderella. The fairy God-mother started to get worried. One
o'clock rolled around and then came two and then three and the fairy God-mother had worked
herself into a frenzy thinking about all of the horrible things that could have happened
to her.
Suddenly, the door swings open and
Cinderella comes sauntering in in a daze with a lazy smile painted on her face, a little
drunken swagger in her walk and kind of breathes a tired hello.
The fairy God-mother's eyes got big and she
jumps up. "What happened? Are you ok?" she said with a frantic voice.
"I'm just fine," she
murmured. I was on my way home when I met the most lovely man.... Peter, Peter
something or other."
