Cinderella and the Glass Ceiling

by Laura Lane

  “I don’t get it,” she said, “You’re pretty and smart and you can see color. Humans and animals alike should be falling in love with you!”

  “I enjoy being single,” said Thumbelina. “I like to sleep like a starfish, I like peeing with the door open, I like knowing my leftovers will still be in the fridge and I like binge-reading fables without having to wait for someone.”

  Aunty Mouse didn’t accept Thumbelina’s explanation because of a time-honored convention: a single woman can’t possibly know what’s best for her. The next night, Aunty Mouse invited a guest over for dinner.

  “Oh, Mr. Mole! What a pleasant surprise,” said Aunty Mouse, doing a terrible job of feigning shock.

  “You invited me,” said Mr. Mole. “You said, ‘I have a really hot little lady staying at my house who I want you to meet.’ And while moles can only see light and movement, I still like the idea of dating someone hot.”

  “Anyway, Thumbelina, meet Mr. Mole. He has a great velvet jacket and everyone knows only cultured and cool people wear fancy velvet jackets. I think you guys will hit it off, and who knows? Maybe one day you will get married and end Thumbelina’s extremely sad, lonesome existence.”

  “We’re both unmarried, so why do you think this mole guy—who is two decades older than me—is independent and sophisticated, while I’m desperate and lonely?” said Thumbelina.

  “It’s just different,” said Aunty Mouse. “He’s a silver fox-mole, and you’re almost past your prime.”

  Mr. Mole spent the next two insufferable hours discussing his art collection, the renovation on his summer molehill, and why he loves sweet potatoes.

  “Whelp, I hate sweet potatoes and I don’t value my self-worth based on whether or not I’m in a relationship, so this won’t work out,” said Thumbelina.

  When Mr. Mole left, Thumbelina curled up in her bed and started crying. She wanted to leave Aunty Mouse’s single-shamey house with bad shower pressure, but she was too far to make the journey on her own.

  A sparrow who was eating berries nearby and had overheard the disaster of a date flew down.

  “Girl, you deserve better than that loser mole and nosy mouse,” chirped the Sparrow. “Sparrows mate for life but we don’t judge birds or mammals who don’t.”

  “This is very validating,” said Thumbelina.

  “Let’s get you outta here. Hop on my back, Thumbelina, and I’ll fly you home!”

  Thumbelina climbed on the Sparrow’s back and held on tight to her feathers while they flew high above the forest. Midway through the trip, the Sparrow stopped for a pee break in a flower garden. The bird thought it was messed up to piss on people while flying.

  While Thumbelina waited, a small man flew out from behind a rose bush. He was Thumbelina’s size but had a pair of wings on his back. He was a prince (shocker)!

  “Do you believe in love at first sight?” the Fairy Prince asked, winking. “Or should I fly past you again?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m the Fairy Prince and I have already decided I want to marry you!”

  “I’m Thumbelina, and I have already decided that will never happen,” said Thumbelina. “First of all, you literally just met me and second of all, what is it with everyone trying to marry me lately? A toad, a mole, and now you!”

  “Of course you wouldn’t want to marry a toad or a mole. That’s gross. But I am a Fairy Prince with a supremely stylish, high and tight fade haircut.”

  “Look, buddy. I don’t ever want to get married,” said Thumbelina.

  “Why not?” asked the Prince.

  “Do you really want me to get into it?” asked Thumbelina.

  “Hit me with it!” said the Fairy Prince.

  Thumbelina took a deep breath.

  “Marriage is an outdated patriarchal institution that is rooted in economic alliances and toxic gender roles that saw women as the property of their fathers and then husbands,” said Thumbelina. “Also, I hate cake.”

  “Yikes!” said the Prince. “Now I feel kinda bad that I’ve dreamed of getting married my whole life. I’ve already sketched out the perfect tuxedo to wear—it will be periwinkle!”

  “And you will look great. I absolutely don’t judge people or animals who want to get married—and to be clear, all creatures should have the right to get married—it’s just not something I want,” said Thumbelina. “But for some reason, everyone in my life seems to think this is a problem.”

  “I can’t wait to get married,” said the Fairy Prince. “Royal fairy weddings are great for ratings.”

  “I love a good royal fairy wedding. I have a commemorative mug from the last one,” said Thumbelina. “What I don’t love is long-term monogamy. Even if that changes down the road, I don’t need the government to approve of my relationship for it to be considered valid.”

  “Can’t say I didn’t try!” said the Prince. “Farewell my beautiful, proudly promiscuous, and independent Thumbelina.”

  “Farewell my Fairy Prince,” said Thumbelina. “If you have a good vegan option, don’t forget to invite me to your wedding!”

  And with that, the Sparrow scooped up Thumbelina and flew her home where she lived happily single ever after.

  THE END

  @THEREALGOLDILOCKS & #THETHREEBEARS

  NCE UPON A TIME…

  There lived a loving family of three bears: a Mama Bear, a Papa Bear, and a Baby Bear. Every day they woke up and made porridge, which is like if oatmeal and grits had a breakfast baby. They always put the porridge in the microwave for a minute too long. Half of the time it exploded and they had to clean the microwave. The other half of the time they would go for a walk while it cooled on the kitchen table.

  One morning while they were on their porridge-cooling walk, a young girl named Goldilocks spotted the Bears’ home as she was posing in front of a graffiti wall nearby. She was on the hunt to take some fierce pics for her social. She peeked inside and thought their home would be the perfect backdrop for a faux-candid photo series.

  “This house is presh! So much character. It’s just what I need!”

  Without thinking twice, she turned the knob of the front door and let herself in, because no one had ever told her no as a child.

  “Hello!” she called out. “My name is Goldilocks. I’m here to take pictures in your home. I have a lot of followers and I’m going to blow this home up on the internet.”

  Nobody answered, so Goldilocks shrugged and started snapping away. She pulled out her phone tripod and selfie light to get some photos of herself posing in various places around the Bears’ supes cute home.

  She posed in front of the entryway gallery wall featuring generations of the Bears’ family that she thought gave off major ski chalet vibes. She put her hands on her hips, jutted her collarbones forward and turned her good side toward the camera. Next, she stood in front of the fireplace, and pretended to warm her hands while serving the camera some ’tude.

  Then she spotted the porridge cooling down on the kitchen table.

  “This porridge is perfect for my breakfast post!” she exclaimed, examining the quirky ceramic bowls it was plated in. “I’ll add some flowers around the bowls to give it some zhuzh.”

  She snapped a photo of herself with the porridges and then looked for the perfect filter.

  “This filter is too hot,” she said as she swiped through different options. “This filter is too cold. But this filter is just right!”

  She figured she ought to taste the porridge to write an authentic caption. Plus, she was hungry. So she gulped down Baby Bear’s porridge.

  “Made myself some tasty and healthy cinnamon coconut goodness for brekkie,” Goldilocks typed into the caption field.

  Next she went into the living room, where she spotted three velvet arm chairs lined up in a row.

  “These chairs look like they’re straight out of the Restoration HardBear catalogue!” squealed Goldilocks. “I’ve gotta get some photos in them.”

  First, she pos
ed in Papa Bear’s chair, but it was too wide and the proportions were all off. Next she tried Mama Bear’s chair, but it was too narrow and she looked awkward in it. Then, she tried Baby Bear’s chair, and it was just right. She kneeled on the chair’s cushion and struck a pose. But after she snapped the photo, she heard a loud tear as the upholstery split and her leg pierced through the center!

  “This chair is busted. Whoops,” she said. “I bet they’re RHB knock-offs anyway. It’s the chair’s fault. Stupid chair.”

  She was ready to pack up and head out but remembered she needed to post some sponsored content. That’s when she spotted a staircase leading up to the Bears’ bedroom. She climbed the stairs and swung the door open. Inside were three charming wooden country beds she thought were totally cottage chic.

  She jumped onto Papa Bear’s bed, never questioning whether this was an invasion of privacy. She landed with a thud.

  “Hey there G-Squad! OMG, look at this guy’s bed. Rock. Hard,” she vlogged to her followers. “He could really use some softer linens. Use promocode GOLDEN at StorytimeBeds.com so you don’t end up like this old geezer.”

  Next she tried Mama Bear’s bed, but it was too soft.

  “G-Squad, who can even sleep like this? This bed is so soft. Watch what happens when I try to take a photo. I sink into the bed and it covers up this fab mesh top–skirt combo. Cute skirt though, right? Get this look at FairyApparel.com by using promocode GOLDIGURL.”

  Lastly she tried Baby Bear’s bed and it was just right. She sprawled herself across the bed, when she began to get sleepy.

  “I worked so hard today, G-Squad,” said Goldilocks to her followers. “Photoshoots can be really exhausting. I never have time to run errands, like going to the post office. Use promocode YELLOWHAIR at Stamps.com.”

  She promptly fell fast asleep in Baby Bear’s bed.

  Meanwhile, the Bears had finished their breakfast stroll and were eager to eat their porridge. They opened up their front door and immediately realized something was off.

  They looked at the kitchen table and saw the flowers around their porridge bowls.

  “Somebody has been photographing my porridge!” said Papa Bear.

  “Somebody has been photographing my porridge!” said Mama Bear.

  “Somebody has been photographing my porridge, and they ate it all up!” said Baby Bear.

  Realizing there had been an intruder, they began to look around their home. The gallery wall photos were tilted, the pillows on their living room chairs were completely thrown about, and there was a phone tripod on the coffee table.

  “Somebody has been posing in my chair!” said Papa Bear.

  “Somebody has been posing in my chair!” said Mama Bear.

  “Somebody has been posing in my chair, and they split the cushion open!” said Baby Bear.

  Just then, Papa Bear spotted the door at the top of the stairs cracked open. They climbed the stairs and peered inside their bedroom. Papa Bear’s oversized pillows had been tossed on the ground, Mama Bear’s homemade quilt had been thrown on the floor, and there was a selfie light on the nightstand table.

  “Somebody has been vlogging in my bed!” said Papa Bear.

  “Somebody has been vlogging in my bed!” said Mama Bear.

  “Somebody has been vlogging in my bed, and they’re still there!” said Baby Bear.

  The Bears let out a yelp of surprise.

  Goldilocks jolted awake. Her eyes went wide when she saw the three bears standing over her.

  “Call the authorities!” shouted Mama Bear.

  “Wait!” said Goldilocks. “Do you know who I am?”

  “No, that’s the whole problem. We don’t know who you are,” said Papa Bear.

  “And you’re in my bed,” said Baby Bear.

  “I’m a very popular influencer who just conducted a major photo sesh in your home. You should be happy to have me here. This photo sesh was kismet.”

  “You let yourself into our home without asking,” said Papa Bear.

  “Yeah, but it was for the pics, and I needed them,” responded Goldilocks.

  “Do you know how that sounds?” asked Mama Bear.

  “No,” said Goldilocks.

  “Entitled.”

  “My title?” said Goldilocks. “I’m @therealgoldilocks. The handle @goldilocks was already taken and that B wouldn’t sell it to me.”

  “‘Entitled’ means you only think about yourself and believe you deserve special treatment and privileges,” said Baby Bear. “And that you eat other people’s breakfast because you think you can have whatever you want.”

  “Listen. You’re not hearing me. I’ve taken a bunch of hella sweet pics of your house. I made it look way better than it actually looks IRL. These posts will be very popular. You should be thanking me. What are you? One of those people who hates social media?”

  “As it turns out, I’m actually a very popular Mommy Bear blogger. This isn’t about the photos, it’s about your lack of respect for other people,” said Mama Bear. “You broke and entered our house without permission and feel zero remorse about going through our stuff. What part of you thinks that’s okay?”

  “The part that already has 1,432 likes on this post,” said Goldilocks, holding up her phone.

  “I’ve met a lot of privileged jerks in my life, but not one as young as you,” said Mama Bear.

  “Thank you!” said Goldilocks.

  “This girl is the worst,” said Baby Bear.

  As Papa Bear called the authorities to report her for breaking and entering, Goldilocks ran toward the bedroom window. But as she prepared to jump out and get away, she noticed the sun was casting incredible light. She pulled out her phone for one last photo, but as she did, she slipped. She fell out of the window, landed badly, and broke her neck.

  We know what you’re thinking: having someone break their neck and end up in the hospital because they’re an entitled narcissist and ate someone’s brekkie is a little extreme. But we didn’t even make that up! It’s part of the original story. And no, a prince did not come to save her.

  We guess this is one situation where the classic fairy tale wasn’t so bad after all.

  THE END

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To our fairy godmother book agent Cindy Uh. We are grateful to have someone as fierce as you in our corner. Also, thank you for telling us that our book proposal needed to have “professional photos” of us instead of the ones of us dressed as princesses.

  To Stephanie Knapp, Laura Mazer, Kaitlin Carruthers-Busser, and the team at Seal Press for publishing this book, supporting us along the way, and staying true to our voice. You have to kiss a lot of frog editors until you find princess ones.

  To the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre, Shannon O’Neill, Bridget Holmes, Michael Hartney, and the entire crew at UCB Hell’s Kitchen. Thank you for the opportunity to perform our sketch show that became this book and for allowing us to spit out a condom on your stage in the name of comedy.

  To Madalyn Baldanzi. Thank you for encouraging us to keep going with this idea and pitching jokes such as “I don’t want to hurt the lips with the pulling.”

  To Amber Reauchean Williams for being the best castmate and friend we could ask for and for making our words even funnier onstage. Thanks for trying to fix that cheap-ass Rapunzel wig we bought on Amazon so many times.

  To our directors Chet Siegel and Matt Gehring for bringing our sketches to life, including a choreographed dance to the song “A Woke New World.” Matt, we’re still mad you cut Nana dog from the Tinker Bell sketch.

  To Armando Zubieta for taking photos of us dressed as princesses with pussy hats and not asking for an explanation. To Jackie Abbott for both your notes and tolerating the cold to take photos of us in crowns and business suits, which the hipsters in Brooklyn thought was just “our look.” We are beyond grateful to you both for your talents and generosity.

  To Disney for giving us our love of fairy tales, even though you wrote lines like “le
ave the sewing to the women” and “girls talk too much.” You’re getting better. To the Brothers Grimm for sneaking in some R-rated violence and gore into children’s tales. And to Hans Christian Andersen for being a total weirdo.

  To our friends and family who gave us invaluable feedback or supported the project along the way: Lauren Adams, Monica Bergstrand, Jen Birn, Mallory Blair, Ben Blake, Matt Cody, Cristina Cote, J. W. Crump, Nicole Drespel, Whitney English, Hampton Fluker, Cora Frazier, Sam French, Cristina Gibson, Betty Gilpin, Molly Griggs, Sarah Houghton, Rich and Ella Johnston, Samia Khan, Jess Keefe, Alex Keegan, Sally Langlitz, Reagan Lopez, Amanda Champagne Meadows, Sarah Merrill, Darla Murray, Jensen Olaya, Eloise Parker, Mary Beth Quirk, Bre Racano, Sue and Denny Radkowsky, Evan Real, Franses Rodriguez, Ali Schwartz, Angela Spera, Matt Sullivan, Abe Tabaie, Dayane Taylor, Laura Willcox, and Jay Wolff.

  To our parents, Amy, Andy, Bill, and Lindy. Thank you for sitting through the many, many hours of unrehearsed living-room productions of fairy tales as children. Who could have guessed those were first drafts of a show we’d write, produce, and act in in our 30s? We love you.

  To our younger siblings Jonathan, Molly, Grace, and Polly for letting us dress you up and “play princess.” We love you, too.

  To Samo the dog for being so chill during rehearsals and book writing meetings and giving us emotional support in the form of licking our feet.

  To Nic for being my personal show photographer, graphic designer, and first draft reader. Thank you for our son and for our life. I don’t believe women need a Prince Charming but if I did, you’re pretty close to it.

  To Dru for trekking to Hell’s Kitchen Theatre to drop off postcards for the show, for delaying our honeymoon for this book’s deadline, and for being better than happily ever after (which doesn’t exist, but, you get it).

  Thank you to the feminist icons and thinkers everywhere and the people on the frontlines trying to make the world a more equal place. You continue to teach us. Don’t let the comment section drive you mad.