Kothakoli-came from 'Kolikar kotha', in an effort to log the monologue-ous conversations that rage in conundrum, the arguments and questions that rumble inside to make me, 'me'. Kothakoli strives to stay true to the name: a dance, an exotic, challenging, colorful, beautiful dance. Somewhat like life itself.

My Cinderella Story - Part 3

(Continued from Part II http://kolika.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-cinderella-story-part-2.html)

Part III

Achilles, are you awake?
You wouldn’t be purring that quiet snore if you were awake. Purring, you sound so much like Chesire. He was the cutest thing asleep, it's his wide-eyed grin that raises hell. Have you ever known someone completely lovable when asleep and quiet; and the moment they’re awake it’s like a dance of destruction in your synapses, a tannin chill down your spine and you want to get away from them as much as possible, as fast as you can? Much like the feeling of restless longing for someone sitting right next to you, longing for something you can’t put your finger on. That, Achilles, is the most incapacitating form of unease; the killer sense of incompleteness; the type of chemical reaction of your hormones, that the institution of marriage is standing on. That, Achilles, is known to Eve’s protégés as loneliness.

Achilles, did I ever tell you how I met the Cheshire Cat? When we were young, we had always wanted a fairy Godmother. Basically anything-mother would do, just not a Evil Eve step-mother… and unlike how easy your sister’s book makes it sound, you don’t really have them flying in at your neediest hours, you have to put in due effort, log in and file the paperwork and based on compatibility one is sent to you in regular mail, without a tracking number, of course. So fifty six days after filing for one, just as we were at the brink of losing interest and all hope …along came Hermione from Worcestershire.
Dressed out of a Forever 21 brochure, nineteen-year-old, single-mother Mrs. Hermione Ron Weasley walked in with newborn Chesire in the crib. She obviously needed a job. And whoever referred her, was obviously not getting his cuts based on compatibility! We wanted a “fairy Godmother” not a baby-sitter with her own bag of problems. But as per the contract, she had to do so many things for us, the mother-abandoned, step-mother-abused Snow White Cinderella-s wards, before she could move on to her next life--her maiden family of Cat-woods (Scottish catoids) were allowed nineteen lives.
So we decided to make do with whatever we got. The only right thing about her was her magic wand. And with a little brush-up, the star student that she was in her younger days, she redid our interiors, got Maddy Mud White into therapy and trained me on her old tricks from Dudley's Defense against Dark Acts for Muggle Fairy Characters...
that was a big expertise-builder I tell you for my Damnation course and also came handy when I was out rioting against Christmas in July. Selling infected candy and sand filled funnel cake was a fun idea I have to admit, although very unGodmotherly.

Another thing I liked about her was her whimsically designed pair of fluttery triwigs. Never heard of triwigs? Like balds wear wigs, treacherous wizards without wings wear triwigs. Technology these days I tell you…catch up Achilles, catch up! So with these triwigs, you just need to sprinkle some magnet-dust and top it with the Leviosa spell and off you go, as good as Mom’s latest Nimbus 009. Hermione always had a magical solution to all our needs, just not that of a mother... She was a strong woman, Achilles, never smiling, but never perturbed either. Always courteous and in every way a perfect humanoid. In an imperfect, fairy-world family. She left after a perfect shocker accident, 77 months and 3 days after she first appeared at our south door.
Little Cheshire grew up in our kitchen with the other cats. Wild cats that played cards with Eve. I don’t think he remembers much of Hermione or retains any of her genes expect for the nineteen lives all of which he’s planning to live with us, sigh! The fish from our ponds will keep disappearing, so will the people from the nearby villages I know, until one day we can lure him under the ground with the white-rabbit-trick, hide the keys and make him stay there with the Queen of hearts.
You have to understand Achilles. He’s difficult. And that’s the only reason why I keep forgiving that grin and keep him around. His vicious nature keeps my vile alive so I can build it up and thwart 'you'. Finally.

(to be continued...for part IV go to http://kolika.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-cinderella-story-part-4.html)

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