Ella’s
Monologue
Pumpkins: big orange things you eat or carve up, right? Guess again. My fairy godmother just turned one into a coach. I can’t believe I’m actually sitting inside a pumpkin. Is it just me, or is that really weird? I mean, a dinner-food is my mode of transportation. She coulda called a limo, or even a cab, but no, it had to be a pumpkin carriage – tradition, or something. I’m gonna be laughed out of the prom!
And as if the whole me-driving-up-in-a-vegetable thing isn’t bad enough, the driver looks like a rat. And why? BECAUSE HE IS ONE! Honestly. All I wanted was a little help. You know, hair that will stay in its curls all night, nails that won’t chip, that sort of thing. I mean, if your godmother had magical powers, wouldn’t you want some help, too? But ask a fairy for a little favor and she takes charge.
Granted, the dress is beautiful – a dream, actually – all silk and perfect. And the jewelry is better than anything Tiffany’s might have, but glass slippers? Come on! I can barely walk in regular high heels. I’m going to be picking shards out of my feet until I’m a hundred.
And a twelve o’clock curfew? What is that? I mean, I’m almost eighteen!
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