Hi and welcome to Fractured Fiction on WTIT: The Blog. Since we are on our second vacation in less than a month, we decided to introduce a new feature. It’s easier. If you hate it we won’t know for a week. So while we vaykay, you get to read some pretty stupid shit. Most of it we were tagged for along the way. Leave us a comment, or don’t. It’s not like it’s a fucking law. Here we go…
It was a beautiful day and Cindy was off from work. She was in a great mood, sliding down the main banister just as she did as a child. “If you hurt yourself I won’t help,”boomed a familiar voice. It was Frank Enstein, her butler. “You’ve said that since I was five and I have never hurt myself one time!” Cindy smiled. “You’ve had more than your share of close calls Miss Cindy Rella,” replied Frank. All Cindy could think about was the big fall singles dance at her favorite nightspot, “Disco Balls”. The winter would arrive soon, so tonight was important. Could it be the night she met her prince? She was determined to get it all right. She had bought a new dress from the Victoria’s Blabbermouth Store. Cindy even bought the fancy pair of shoes she had been eyeing at Thom McCants.
She passed the laundry room where her servant, Hans Soar was doing the clothes by hand. “Will you every use the washing machine?” Cindy teased. Hans was not amused, he said, “My family has worked for your family for ten generations. We have always taken a great deal of pride in our work.” Cindy went on, “And that means you can’t do things an easier way?” Hans put down the shirt he was scrubbing, “When bats fly out my butt!” he exclaimed. Cindy laughed and headed to the kitchen. She had heard Hans say that phrase a thousand times and always found it amusing. She’d have to eat her dinner quickly to have enough time to primp for the dance
Her chef, Ellie Vaytor was preparing her favorite. It was a very famous Italian dish that Cindy loved. She could never remember its fancy name. Cindy was eating quickly. “What’s the name of this fabulous dish again?” she mumbled as she ate. “Cindy, it is called ‘spaghetti’. How tough is that to remember?” Ellie asked. Cindy finished. “I’m off,” she addressed at Ellie. “In more than one way,” Ellie said to herself.
Cindy was finally ready. Her driver, Trip Salott, opened the limo’s door, “Watch your step, Cindy.” “To Balls!” ordered Cindy. “To my what?” asked Trip. “Sorry, Trip. To Disco Balls.” “Right,” replied Trip. She entered the room and her eyes met the stare of the most elegant and handsome man she had ever seen. He rushed over, “Care to dance?” He asked. Cindy smiled. “I’m Cindy and I would love to.” The man led her to the floor. “I’m Charlie Angel, but everyone calls me ‘Prince’.” “And why is that?” asked Cindy. “I treat my ladies right. They say ‘There goes a Prince of a guy’!”
One thing led to the other and Cindy snuck Prince into the mansion. “Tonight I will do the nasty,” she thought, “Get the big one. Do the deed. Finally see a meat puppet. Bang a gong. Get it on.” Prince had no idea or even considered this was her first time. When he was finished (which took perhaps two minutes) he fell asleep. Cindy was enchanted. She didn’t know any better. Come morning she snuck out of bed. Today she would serve breakfast in bed to her lover. She woke Ellie up to cook it. Cindy couldn’t boil water. Ellie did a great job. Cindy rushed up the stairs to serve her man. He wasn’t there. The bed was made. He had left a note. “Thanks for the roll in the hay. Gotta get back to the ‘Mrs.’ now. You aren’t very good in bed by the way. Have a nice day.” A stunned Cindy looked at the tray and shrugged. “His loss, “ she thought, “Cause now I get to eat two breakfasts!”
And nobody lived happily ever after.