How a foot found fame
(or an Aussie Sheila goes Walkabout and has a ball).
Mopping the Floors
In China, a small foot is a sign of beauty. This foot, or should I say feet, were not beautiful. While her mother was alive, Elle (“The Feet” to her friends) had custom made shoes - size 20 GG. (The blacksmith did suggest shoeing her, but she refused that hurdle). Now her mother was dead, her father remarried, and her stepmother deciding that shoes were an unnecessary expense.
*Her bare feet slapped across the wet floor. She had been up since before dawn washing the kitchen and bathroom floors. Her feet were wrinkled red from the soap, as were her hands. Her eyes were red from crying, so you could say she was the Lady in Red.
Attack of the Fairy Godmother
Elle’s feet hurt, after the day’s work. Not only that, they were covered in ashes, the dying embers of the kitchen fire she was currently huddled towards. Her aesthetically-challenged step-sisters, had started calling her Ember-ella as a result. This name made her sound like a rain avoiding apparatus, so in honour of her feet they now called her Daffy. She hated the name, and the high squeaky voice they used when addressing her. She huddled closer to the fire, her feet chafing from the cold stone floor. She had considered using the table and chairs, which though spartan were adequate for her needs, but they weren’t as warm. Fairytale land was a cold, clammy country. Her evening routine was always this - Cursing her nickname, and hunching into the embers of the dying fire.
Her countenance darkened. At first, she thought it was because she was cross, but that didn’t explain the rattling teacups in the sink, the shuddering floor, and the overhead light swaying gently from side to side. Elle looked up. Filling the doorway was an hydroelectric dam of a person - complete with pink tutu, gold tinseled wand and wilting flowers trailing through lanky hair.
“G’day Daffy. I’m your fairy godmother.” The voice could demolish a Tasmanian rainforest, and Elle winced involuntarily.
“I’m here to grant your wish, and get you to the ball.”
Elle protested, that she did not want to go, what with being on her feet all day - all she wanted was to have a nice lie-down somewhere.
The Fairy Godmother stamped her foot. The heel broke. The strap snapped. Her feet in all their hirsute beauty were revealed. “Oh my feet” Elle thought, “Hers are bigger than mine!”
“You will go to the ball, Daffy. I want to be alone with your fa..... family."
Then in an ominous voice, "I’ll be back.” The Fairy Godmother waddled her way out of the house.
Cinderella, You shall go to the ball.
Later that evening, the Fairy Godmother came back. "Daffy its time to get dressed up in your glad rags and go to the ball". Elle was putting her feet up and having a cuppa. "But I told you, I don't want to go to a dance with poncy rich bastards - I just want to drink my tea, take a bex and have a lie-down."
The Fairy Godmother ignored her "Where's your pumpkin?" The Fairy Godmother looked around, "I can't make a limo if I don't have a pumpkin."
"It's in the scones." Elle put her feet down, and revealed the table with a pile of scones on a plate, underneath a teatowel. " I don't have any others."
"What about some mice and or rats?"
"This is Oz - we have marsupials - not that foreign rubbish…"
The Fairy Godmother sounded desparate. "How about some rags to use for the dress?"
"Nah, we use Chux supa wipes in this house - anti-bacterial, cleans up the germs." Elle sounded smug "It looks like I can't go."
"You're going to go, or I'll rip ya bloody arms off!"
*They compromised. The clothes were made from the Blue and white Chux - a Footy Jersey, Jeans, Footy socks,. Garn the Pies! The Red Shoes were borrowed from a Westie with an evil snicker. "Whatever you do, don't let little men with squeaky voices steal the shoes, or I'll drop a house on you!"
Instead of a Pumpkin, they took a passionfruit from the vine on the fence, out back of the kitchen. It made a beaut little Vee-Dub.
Instead of Mice for the chauffeur, they hired a foot masseuse named Sven. At least Elle could have a good time, there and back!
And of course, the car was powered by Six White Boomers,snow white boomers. Bounding down the Australian Track. (Hiding from Rolf Harris).
*Shall we dance?
The prince was not having a good night out. All the blokes were up one end drinking around the keg. The women were up the other end, despairing of every getting a decent dance in. The parents of all the young hopefuls were in the kitchen reminiscing about the good old days, when they were young. "When I was young, we didn't bother with all this courting rubbish. You married who you were told to. Liked it or Lumped it!" And the prince was missing the footy final. The Sea-Eagles were playing the Magpies. Nobody else in his kingdom supported the Magpies. It was hard to be Prince he thought moodily. I think I'll change my name to TAFKAP.
Elle walked in. The women looked at her and snickered. Fancy wearing Footy gear to a ball! The men didn't notice her, engrossed in conversation and beer. From across the room, She noticed the Prince. He noticed her. She noticed him coming towards her.
"Oh, Shit." She thought, "Now he'll want to dance and there's a comfy spot over there where I listen to the footy game in peace".
The Prince smiled. At last, here was someone who could talk to him about the team he loved.
"Shall we dance?", TAFKAP held out his hand to her. Elle smiled with resignation. "Yeah. Why not?"
The Ted Mulry Gang - Why don't you jump in my car? - song filled the air. TAFKAP played his air guitar with great gusto. Elle attempted to move as little as possible. The Prince looked at her suggestively.
"I notice that you are a fan of the Magpies?" His opening Gambit. "Your shoes are a little out of place though"
"Yeah, I got them from some old witch. Look do you mind if we sit down? I've been on my feet all day - And it’s the second half of the final."
TAFKAP almost pulled her sprawling to the closest seat at the side of the dance floor.
"What's the score? Are the 'Pies winning?"
"Nah. Manly are wiping the floor with them." She said with a sigh.
Elle pulled out her pocket radio with earphone. "Do you want to listen?"
"Yeah" The Prince was grateful, and plugged himself in.
The next 45 minutes were spent in blissful silence. The Prince was plugged into the game. Elle had her feet up. She was just dozing off, and when she realised the time.
"Oh Bugger it. I've gotta go!" And off she went.
*Exit, Pursued by a Prince
The Prince didn't notice that Elle had gone. He sat enthralled in the game - the Magpies came up from behind and in a thrilling last minute action scored the winning goal!
"That was beaut. Thanks for the loan". He looked around. "She's buggared off. And I've still got her radio." He looked down. And she's left behind her shoes." He picked them up. He'd hold onto them until he saw her again.
"Well young fella me lad. Which of these young ladies are you going to marry?" He looked up. His Dad stood over him - a stern expression covering his noble brow. The Crown tilted jauntily to the side. The white suit and handlebar moustache suggesting Cricket rather than Football was his game of choice.
"Uh, look Dad, I'll marry the woman who fits these shoes."
His Father looked at the shoes. Surely, he thought the woman who wore these shoes is a woman of refinement.
"OK. We'll send the footman out on the 'morrow, until we find the lady who fits these shoes."
*A Shoe session.
Elle’s feet luxuriated in their nudity. After the close confinement of footy socks and glass slippers, the tinea was playing up, and the smell that emanated was reminiscent of rotten eggs and spinach. Elle was counting on the ammonia and soap in the bucket, that she was liberally applying to the floor, to help both the sting and the smell. The sound of the doorbell interrupted her work - It was Butler, the prince’s footman. Elle could hear him talking to her step-mother.
“Madam, everyone in this house must try on the shoe - the prince will marry the one who fits the shoe.”
A silence then Butler again:
“No Madam, stuffing the shoe with newspaper does not consitute a good fit.”
“Nor does putting both feet in the shoe. Don’t you have any other women in the house?”
This was Elle’s cue. Her chance for fame and fortune, and getting out of the rest of the housework. She shuffled into the drawing room, where the battle of the shoes had been going on.
“Sir, may I try it on?” A pause. “Sir?.. Sir, may I?”
Butler stared at Elle’s feet. His jaw had dropped to his feet,a good 2 metres, ensuring that his dentist would be kept in business for many years.
In the traditional Cinderella story at the wedding, the ugly sisters have their eyes pecked out by birds. Who are we to fight tradition?
And they all lived happily ever after...
Except for the ugly sisters who were blind...
And the stepmother who was divorced by Elle’s father...
And Elle’s father, who moved in with the Fairy Godmother and discovered that he was a trans-sexual...
And the Fairy Godmother, who wasn't invited to the wedding. “Youth nowadays show no gratitude at all”...
And the King, who was unimpressed with his son’s choice of bride - and disinherited him...
But the prince married Elle, and changed their surname to Marcos, moved to the Phillipines, and bought a lot of shoes, but didn’t wear any of them.