Cindy Smella

About 3 months ago, there was a depressed girl in college.  She was depressed because her mother was dead and her father was a drug kingpin with a different chick. She was his baby momma of two kids and the three of them couldn’t stand her.  The baby momma showered her kids with video games, private school, clothes, cars, jewelry, phones, and pandered to their every petty need. But for the struggling, debt-trodden college girl, she got whatever trash her sisters didn’t want.  She had to work for everything she had.  Only when she got to go home early, did she have time stop by her plug on the corner.  She was known in the neighborhood as Cindy Smella, because of the thick smell of smoke in her hair. This one night she was drunk and started talking to the cat for hours. The cat meowed.

Cindy stumbled over to the mirror and fluffed her flat-ironed hair. As she continued to try an assortment of sexy poses, she said, “You’re right, kitty. I’m freakin hot.  The two of those harlots have to hide behind all that makeup and to contend with me.”

Even though she was drunk, she spoke the truth.  Even in her splotchy work uniform, and bloodshot eyes, she was still pretty cute. Her half-sisters, no matter how perfect their eyebrows were, were still clumsy and ugly. They always would be.

One day, she got home just as her stepmom and half-sisters were leaving to go to a party. She knew better, but asked her stepmom “Can I go?” anyway.

“Can you go? You can go take that trash out. You can go pull the weeds out of the garden. You can go mop the floors. You can go clean your sisters’ rooms.  By the time you do all that, it’ll be over anyway. So you might as well just stay home.”  Her stepmom and half-sisters got in their chauffeured limo and drove off.

She was furious and ran inside to drink and drug her pain away.  Bottle after bottle, line after line.  She was almost passed out in the dimly-lit kitchen, but she suddenly shielded her eyes, as if she was seeing a bright light. She stared at the overhead cabinet in wonder.  The cat meowed, but she continued looking at the cabinet.

“But how am I supposed to go to the beach party in these clothes, fairy godmother.  I’ll be laughed out of town.” She slumped in the chair and sighed. After a moment of moping she popped up and ran to her half-sister’s closet. After trying on various outfits, she found a halter top and a skirt and squealed with delight. “YAAASSSSSS!!”

She finds a baby pumpkin in the patch and picks it. She holds it tight to her chest and leashes her cat. “I am off to the ball and I’m gonna be a pretty princess!” She stumbles out of the door and gallops to a nearby house.  But she knew she had to be back before her stepmom at midnight.

She stumbled all up and down her neighborhood until she found a house with the front door open and lots of parked cars.  When Cindy came in the house, a hush fell. Everyone stopped mid-sentence in fear of the birthday party crasher.

“Who is that?” children asked each other. The two parents also wondered who the newcomer was, for never in a month of Sundays, would they ever have guessed that the drunken girl was poor Cindy from down the road.

When the uncle saw Cindy, he was struck by her rudeness. Walking over to her, he bent next to her ear and asked her to leave.  And to the great terror and chagrin of the birthday boy.  She forcefully danced with him all evening.

“Who are you, weird lady?!” the boy kept asking her.

But Cindy replied, “What does it matter who I am? You’ll never see me again anyway.”

“The sooner the better.” He replied.

Cindy had a wonderful time, but all of a sudden, she heard the sound of a siren. The police!  Without a word of goodbye, she slippled out of the back door and ran down the steps. As she ran, she lost one of her slipper, but she was too busy trying not to get arrested to pick it up.  If the police were to catch her, what a disaster that would be! She fled and vanished into the night.

The boy, who was now super pissed at her for ruining his party, picked up her slipper and said to the police, “Go and find who this slipper matches!  This is gonna be the worst birthday ever unless I find her!” So the police ran a DNA test and compared it to all the girls in the Tri-State area. Surprise! The DNA matched her perfectly.

“That ungrateful wench couldn’t have been at that party,” snapped the stepmother.  “Tell them to get out my house unless he trynna get with one of my girls.”

Suddenly she broke off, for someone found her passed out in the bathroom. The stepmother rushed to the door and reeled from the thick smell of vomit. Everyone took turns to see her and gasped in disgust. The police said,

“Come with us, Miss Cindy. You’re going downtown for breaking and entering.” So Cinderella, still high on opioids and not realizing the severity of her situation, cheerfully went with them. And she served 13 years for drug possession, drug use, and disturbing the peace.  It would be years before she ever saw her cat again, but by then, it was already dead.

This poem is about: 
Our world

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