Cancel-rella & a Material Girl:
Somewhere between the pumpkin patch and the pelvic floor—we’re all just trying to stay fabulous.
In this week’s double feature, we follow Cinderella’s fall from glass-slippered sweetheart to full-blown tabloid cautionary tale, and we time travel with Madonna’s spiritual twin as she fabulously fights the ravages of time—armed only with the titles of pop songs and unfiltered wit. You’ll love the storytellers as much as their iconic leading ladies.
This issue of Story Summit Voices features the irreverent Chase Norman and the no-holds-barred Cindi Neisinger as they deliver laughs, inconvenient truths, and just the right amount of glitter.
Chase Norman is a midwestern lady-writer on a mission to add some levity to the human experience. Specializing in playfully irreverent humor with heart, she loves to write scripts that poke fun at the absurdities of life. Chase hopes to write for a Mike Schur television show one day.
Chase shared that the following submission is a segment of a short story she wrote for a flash fiction contest. She’s now adapting it into a feature screenplay, and we can see why.
“Hitting the Glass (Shoe) Ceiling” by Chase Norman
Cinderella and Prince Charming settled out of court. But by then, the damage was done. The townsfolk were titillated and appalled by the rumors, which spread like spiderwebs across the papers. The foot fetish allegations were predictable. What kind of freak sends out armed guards to measure every woman’s foot in the province? And who was even manning public security during this bizarre, mandated sexual side quest?
The Kingdom Gazette churned out headline after headline:
“Prince Alarming’s Abuse of Taxpayer Dollars to Find His Sole-Mate”: Featuring a picture of him loitering outside a Skechers store in the main square.
“Maybe Prince Charming Should Get a Pedicure Before He Judges Women”: With an unflattering shot of him barefoot on a beach vacation from ten years ago, where a large bunion could be seen peeking out from the side of his flip-flop.
“What About Her Personality, Charming? How a Chauvinist Pig Objectified a Hardworking Orphan”: No photograph, just a full-page ad for Better Health.
When anti-Cinderella blind items began appearing on a new social media account, @Deuxsoeurs, people assumed it was her vengeful relatives on a clout-hunting spree. The allegations listed were unbelievable at best: “An inside source claims that Cinderella can often be seen talking to her horses for hours at a time,” and “Leaked bill to royal parliament details Cinderella suggesting pumpkins as the new eco-friendly transportation alternative.” It was all so preposterous. The townspeople simply laughed it off.
But then a resurfaced clip of Cinderella at last year’s Royal Ball exploded online. When the fashion reporter asked her who she was wearing, Cinderella replied, plain as day, “The mice and birds I used to live with!” You’d have to admit, without context, it seemed like psychotic behavior. Some loyalists claimed the footage had been doctored, but still, public opinion began to sway.
Slowly, the general consensus shifted firmly to Charming’s side. So, what if the prince was into feet? He’s a grown man who’s allowed to have sexual preferences! Cinderella probably planned all of this from the start.
Then came the body-shaming articles and conspiracy theories:
“How ‘Poor’ Cinderella Afforded to Get Full Foot Reconstruction to Seduce Her Way to the Throne”
“Cinderella—Out Past Midnight at the Ballroom Again: What Happened to Our Modest Princess?”
“Glass Slippers: Fashion Statement or Illuminati Symbol? A Local Cobbler Weighs In”
Turns out, the public could have as much fun pulling her down as they did building her up. Sales of The Kingdom Gazette went through the roof. The stockholders were happy.
By the time Prince Charming held a press conference on the palace steps, Cinderella’s social grave had been dug. He accused “her dirty rat attorneys of taking [him] for all [he’s] worth.” To be fair, her attorneys were rats—distant cousins of one of her footmen—but they were also super nice guys. The facts didn’t seem to matter. It was a witch hunt. The paparazzi were ruthless. Cancel-rella culture ran rampant.
It got so bad that Cinderella decided to leave town. She sold her half of the castle back to Charming and rode her carriage out of the palace gates in the dark of night, narrowly avoiding the paps. One of her footmen, Mr. Squeaks, had recalled a nice abandoned shed he “used to infest—I mean, to rest,” when he was between places. Cinderella could go into hiding there until the dust settled.
But when her carriage broke down in the middle of a backcountry road, Cinderella broke down too. Because where did it happen to be but her old stomping grounds? The pumpkin patch by her stepmother’s house. Cinderella threw her Birkin on the ground, sat in her YSL gown, and wept.
With a gentle swirl of sparkles, her Fairy Godmother appeared. She patted Cinderella’s back as the poor girl sobbed into the fluffy hem of Fairy Godmother’s cloak.
“Oh no, dear, did you get what you wanted?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t how I thought it would be.” Cinderella sniffed.
“That’s how it goes, dearie. Life’s a Bibbidi-Bobbidi Bitch sometimes.”
Learn more about Chase
Cindi Neisinger is a self-taught writer and proud Ink Rebel. She writes across genres—memoir, essays, fiction, poems, and slam poetry—with a deep respect for learning the craft. She enjoys spotlighting fellow creatives, stirring the pot with everyday observations, and sharing whatever delights, disrupts, or demands attention on her Facebook feed.
This is an excerpt from her memoir-in-progress, My Life Between a Tortilla and White Bread: Musings of a Senior-ish Chicana. In Mini-Essays.
Cindi shared, “FYI: Chicana refers to a Mexican-American woman born in the USA who embraces both her Mexican roots and her American life. For me, that means tamales in the kitchen, meatloaf in the fridge, mariachi music at family parties, and Led Zeppelin on repeat. Now, as I grow older, I write about how it was then, how it is now, and the space between—where my stories still live.”
“Musings of a Senior-ish Chicana” by Cindi Neisinger
Some nights, sleep takes a raincheck—and that’s when things bubble up in the quiet, where aging and attitude meet on the side of the bed. I find myself reaching for a pen, not a pillow. The following is one of those 3:01 a.m. moments—when memory meets mischief.
In 1958, when I was four months old, Madonna was born. I like to think of her as my spirit guide—soul twins, just with vastly different tour schedules.
Material Girl
I remembered a place called Loretta’s—a local dive bar with a bad reputation. My friend Lisa and I had just gotten off our boring 9-to-5, still dressed in our London Fog coats and business attire. It was supposed to be a TGIF Hollywood Video night; instead, we decided to walk on the wild side and grab a drink at this notorious bar. I can’t shake the sight of a wild-eyed biker drinking out of my red spike-heel pump. Did you know those guys are helluva fun? And there, on the jukebox, Madonna was playing: “Cause we’re living in a material world…”
Vogue—Strike a Pose
I used to sashay down the long halls of the hospital where I worked, like a Vogue runway model—with a bouncy strut. Catcalls and whistles were a regular sound, but never welcome. It made me uncomfortable, and I usually responded—with a hiss and a growl. I'd get in their face: “How would you like it if I scratched out your eyes?” I didn’t say that exactly, but they’d think twice if I passed them again. What a difference when beauty fades and mobility is challenged; now I strut down those same halls—not as staff, but as a patient—still modeling, just with a limp, a bedazzled cane, and a damn good sense of timing.
Like a Virgin
I scoot back into bed and lightly thump my head on the headboard—the sound brings back visions of a wilder time, ooh la la—a younger day with my man. Thump, thummp, THUMP! On the headboard—he gently scoots me down… then he shoots his stars… Whoa! I’d better stop there… My oldster lady bits are revving up; I feel alive remembering.
Sometimes young people talk like we don’t know shit about s-e-x. Baby, I invented that trick. If social media and selfies were a thing back then, I’d be a millionaire on OnlyFans, and you’d be hashtagging, tweeting, and sharing.
Lucky Star
Don’t get me started! As I get older, I have some serious questions. What about mysterious hair migration? Since my hormones went wack, it seems my eyebrow tails are missing! Mystery solved: now my chin is growing a few whiskers. What the pluck! Fairly sure that’s where my eyebrow tails landed.
Express Yourself
One last thought comes to mind as I slip the sleep mask over my head. Earlier, I watched the MTV Awards. Who was there? Madonna, in all her glory. But did you see that derrière? Who cares if it’s real? She does as she pleases, and I love that about her.
Youth has no age. Yeah—Madonna and I were born the same year.
For more from Story Summit Voices, subscribe and receive reminders in your inbox when new issues have been posted.
Follow us at Story Summit for writing tips and interviews with industry professionals in publishing and entertainment. And go to storysummit.us to learn more about our online and in-person classes and retreats.
Both pieces have so much wit to them. Well told!
These pieces are both fabulous!