Rindercella and her sugly isters lived in a marge lansion.
Rindercella worked very hard – frubbing scloors, emptying poss pits, and shivelling shot. At the end of the day she was wucking fasted.
The sugly isters were right bugly astards. One was called Mary Hinge, and the other was called Betty Swuttocks. They were really forrible huckers, and had fetty sweet and fetty swannies.
The sugly isters had tickets to go to the ball, but the cotton runts wouldn’t let Rindercella go. Suddenly there was a bucking fang and her gairy fodmother appeared. Her name was Sherry Hithole, and she was a light rucking fesbian. She turned a pumpkin and six mite whice into a hucking cuge farriage with six dandy ronkeys who had buge huttocks and dig bicks.
The gairy fodmother told Rindercella to be back by dimnight otherwise there would be a cucking falamity.
At the ball Rindercella was dancing with the prandsome hince when suddenly the clock struck twelve.
“Miste all chucking frighty!” said Rindercella, and she ran out tripping bass over uttocks, so dropping her slass glipper.
Next day the prandsome hince knocked on Rindercella’s door and the sugly isters let him in. Suddenly Betty Swuttocks lifted her leg and let off a fig bart. “Who’s fust jarted?” asked the prandsome hince. “Blame that fugly ucker over there” said Mary Hinge. When the stinking brown cloud had lifted, the prandsome hince tried the slass glipper on both the sugly isters without success. Their feet stucking funk.
Betty Swuttocks was ducking fisgusted and gave the prandsome hince a bick in the kalls. This was not difficult as he had bucking fuge halls and a hig bard on.
He tried the slass glipper on Rindercella and it fitted pucking ferfectly.
Rindercella and the prandsome hince were married. The hince lived his life in lucking fuxury, and Rindercella lived hers with a follen swanny.
They all hived lappily ever after.