At last. The day of the ball arrives. Cindy is up with the chickens, like always. Hell, she's up *before* the chickens. The chickens think she's lost her friggin' mind.

Cindy plans to get a lot done in the early hours and then go back to bed for at least a six-hour nap. Set the alarm clock for 1600 hours; awaken, make the magickal transformation from aging hippie to glamor queen, and be at the Prince's crib by 1815.

The Prince just happens to live between Rock & Roll Heaven and the palace, see, where the ball is being held. Heh heh. This gives Cindy the excuse she needs to drop by his place so she doesn't have to [[[..shudder..]]] clean hers. It also allows her to turn into a pumpkin any time she wants.

Everything goes pretty much as planned except for the nap and the cat hairs in the toenail polish. (Rose Amethyst. Black cat hair.) The nap succumbs after four hours due to a slight case of anticipatory anxiety and a continually ringing shoephone. The Prince even calls to lay some groundrules. Wants to be sure she is on the right wake/sleep schedule.

"Well, I hope so," Cindy says, "I slept four hours, so I think I'll be cool. If I pass out somewhere during the evening, just let me sleep and you party on, okay?"

"Cool with me," the Prince says, "just ... whatever you do, just don't puke in the carriage. I cleaned all the beer cans out of it."

"No puking in the carriage. Roger."

The much anticipated moment finally arrives. The shiny white carriage pulls up in front of the palace. Cindy and the Prince alight. Cindy is stunning in a long black velvet dress cut down to here and a fancy jacket. The moonlight dances off her Bajoran earring, its moons, stars and planets twinkling all the way down the left side of her neck. The Prince is indescribably handsome, also in black. He offers his arm to Cindy and together they sweep into the ballroom like they own the joint.

Cindy is immediately imbued with the magick of it. Surrounded by glitterati, dazzled by soft lights and moved by some swingin' blues, she is transported from her everyday world to one of serendipitous possibility. The Prince catches the spirit, as well. They are an extremely handsome pair. They exude presence and energy. The crowd is stunned at the transformation they see in Cindy. She is so different! So changed! And who is that Handsome Prince hovering around her? Where did he come from? All eyes in the room are fixed upon them.

It is at that very moment, as all eyes are trained intently upon Cindy and her Handsome Prince, that Cindy catches a glimpse of the King's Fair Maiden. She stands by the buffet table, loading the King's plate with swedish meatballs and stuffed jalapenos and way too many big, black olives.

Wait a minute. Cindy takes a better look. Oops. There is no doubt about it, the King's Fair Maiden is wearing the *exact* same fancy jacket as Cindy. Dang. She looks the third time. It's the same jacket, alright. Dang.

Now ain't that always the way? It is just fated that two women are gonna show up in the same piece of clothing. It's one of those cosmic laws you can't get around. Cindy quickly assesses the situation. One of us has gotta come out of the jacket, she decides. And I reckon it's gonna be me.

Fairy Godmother #1 had threatened her with bodily harm if she kept that jacket on, anyway. "I don't conjure up great creations like this every day," she had told Cindy when she zapped her into the dress. "And if you cover it up with a jacket I'll find a way to make your life miserable. I'll keep the network so screwed up you'll never reach IO again."

The jacket comes off.

The crowd gasps.

The Prince drops his white zinfandel on the Court Jester's foot at about the same moment his chin hits the ground.

Lady MacBeth turns green with envy and begins to protest. Loudly.

Cindy has again transformed. Only this time she has done it right before their eyes.

.... continued here