Farterella
Everyone should
know who Cinderella
is. Well, it
is me, but
to be exact,
the name is
all wrong. You
will know why
when you hear
my little secret
which I can
share with you, but don’t
leak it out,
or my fairy
godmother would turn
you into a
grilled pig.
I was
born to a
very wealthy man
a long, long
time ago, in
a faraway land. I was
very kind and friendly. Unfortunately, I
was also very,
very good at
farting. So, most
of the time
my parents called
me ‘Farterella’.
When I
was seven, I
farted the smelliest
fart ever recorded
in history. Apparently,
it stank so
much that it
made my mother
very sick, and
she vomited quite
a lot for
the next few
weeks. Then she
passed away.
A few
months after my
mother’s death, my
father remarried. My
father married one
of the kindest
women in the
world. This woman
had already had
two daughters from
her first marriage.
These two girls
were also very
amiable and kind.
When other people
joked about my
farts, my stepsisters
would rebuke them
for making fun
of me and
always defend me.
When my
stepsisters and I were sixteen,
we received an
envelope, saying, “An
Invitation from the
Prince”. When my
stepsisters saw this
envelope, they immediately
ripped it open,
and the moment
they finished reading
the inscription on
the parchment, they
squealed excitedly, “We
want to go
to the ball
and marry the
Prince!!!” Looking over
their shoulders, I read the
letter, and I squealed with
delight too, and
shouted, “I want
to go too!”
My stepsisters
said, “Of course
you can, but
you may need
to ask your
Fairy Godmother to
help control your
farts.” I nodded,
and went into
the backyard to
call for my
Fairy Godmother.
When my
Fairy Godmother appeared,
she said to
me, “I can control your
farts, but only
until midnight. Remember
to come back
by midnight!”
So, my
father’s chauffeur brought
us to the
King’s palace on
my father’s classy
silver limousine. We
skipped into the
ballroom, and the
moment the Prince
saw me, he gazed in
awe at me,
and we danced
into the night.
Soon, it
was midnight. However,
I had forgotten
all about my
godmother’s warning and
continued dancing with
the Prince. A
few seconds later,
I released a fart almost
as deadly as
the one I
did when I
was seven. It
was also so
loud that everyone
thought that it
was a sonic
boom and not
a fart.
I was
utterly, totally embarrassed.
Taking to my
heels, I raced
right out of
the palace and headed home as I
saw everyone fainting.
To my utmost
bewilderment, my stepsisters
brought the Prince
back with them. He
is going to
kill me! I
thought. Taken by
surprise, the Prince
kissed me on
the cheek, and
said, “I don’t
mind your farts.
I really enjoyed
our conversation at
the ball.” Tears
welled up in
my eyes. I
was so touched.
As you
may have guessed,
I married the
Prince and we
lived happily ever
after. And
I never, ever
farted again. It
must have been
the kiss.
