fbpx

Once Upon A Time

Jan Marshall“Lightening Up With Jan”

Resident Jan Marshall is a Humorologist, award-winning author, and humor columnist for adults and aspirational books for children.

ONCE UPON A TIME…

By Jan Marshall

An old study in Washington came to the conclusion that many American women were conditioned  to follow the scripts of the literature they read as young girls.

I disagree.

I believe that with all the information now available, women are more enlightened and respond totally differently than they have in the past.  A good example is the following story of my former neighbor whom I knew as Cindy Kishkamen until she changed her name.

Her new name was Cinderella.  She scrubbed floors and worked hard and hoped all the while her prince would come and take her away from it all.  One day, sure enough, he arrived.

“Hi, Cinderella, I’m Irving Prince, and I love you,” he said as he dumped many pairs of shoes at her feet.  “Look at these fabulous shoes I have for you.  And you have the perfect toes and arches and . . .”

“Bug off, Irving.  You’re very nice, but this foot fetish of yours is driving me nuts.”

“Listen, I’m a patient man, Cinderella.  My philosophy is that you can’t hatch an egg in the morning and expect chicken salad at night.  You will be mine soon, and I shall take you away from all this.”

Irving wooed her daily with gifts of laces and the ultimate – one perfect, long-stemmed, initialed shoehorn – and he always accompanied his gifts with flowers  Cinderella was finally convinced of his adoration and consented to marry him.

They honeymooned in a remote cabin loaned to them by Irv’s good friend Jimmy Choo.  One could not say the honeymoon night  was a rousing success, for young Cinderella’s premarital education consisted of  her mother repeating time after time,” It’s beautiful!  It’s beautiful!”  Whatever she meant by “it,” Cinderella wasn’t sure.  But her initial reaction was, “This is beautiful?  Blecck!”

 Though after a while, (woo woo), with a little help from their physician, Dr. Sutra, and the book he recommended, The Handyman’s Guide to Love and Carpentry, she did find beauty in marital life, so much so that Irving frequently complained of headaches.

They lived their life of “terrificness” in their small apartment, and before long they acquired a little prince of their own named Paisley, a dog called Pauper, and lots of shoes everywhere, until there wasn’t anyplace to sit.

“Cinderella,” said Irving, “I’m moving you and little Prince and the Pauper to the Van Nuys suburbs, where you’ll have a shiny cottage with shiny built-ins in a shiny new tract.

After the move, and in spite of all the shininess, Cinderella felt a dull ache in her heart.  One evening when Irving returned from work, he noticed tears in Cinderella’s eyes.  “What wrong, Honey, did the wash come out gray?”

“I really don’t know what it is exactly, Irv, but I feel blah  . . . like a nothing person.”

“How can you say you’re nothing, Cindy?  You’re my wife!  What else do you want?  Don’t I kill myself at work just for your happiness?  Do you think I’m doing it for me?  No, I do it so you can have all the marvelous shoes.”

“The point is, Irv, there must be more to life than this shoe business.”

Irving was quite shaken. “I can’t believe my ears!  Do you know how many girls in my office wish they were walking in your wedgies?  Believe me, nobody but nobody has more shoes than you.  And I dare anyone to say that Irving Prince scrimps.

Maybe you want more shoes, is that it?  All you have to do Cindy baby, is ask.”

“Damn it, Irving!  I know you mean well, but did it ever occur to you that I might not want all those stupid shoes or have to ask you if I did?  I mean, did you ever think at any time that maybe I was smart enough to pick out my own shoes?”

Irving shook his head in disbelief and began to scream over and over, “Stupid shoes?  Stupid shoes?”  He was livid.  “Say what you will about me, but stupid shoes?”

Cinderella could contain herself no more.  She started hurling shoes at Irving and he at her.  She finally ran out the door shouting obscenities aimed at major shoe manufacturers.

Cinderella is now a member of a consciousness-raising group at Heritage Pointe where she was advised to refuse alimony but to request arch support.  

Irving is still wondering if he really put his foot into it this time.  He has now started deep analysis with his therapist, whose side gig is podiatry.

We wish them well.

THE END

Jan Marshall

[email protected]

www.authorjanmarshall.com