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| Topic: CINDERELLA & HER SUGLY ISTERS. | |
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This is the story of Cinderella and her sugly isters.
Cinders and her sugly isters lived in a marge lansion. Cinders worked very hard, frubbing scloors, weaning clindows, emptying pospits and, shivelling shot. By the end of the day, she was knucking fackered. Her sugly isters were fight cucking runts. They did no wucking furk, and had no wucking furries. They were fight bugly arsturds. One was called Mary Hinge and the other was Betty Swallocks, and they were always pucking fist. The two sugly isters had tickets to go to the ball. Cinderella was ducking fisgusted, when the cotton runts wouldn’t let her go. Buttons worked with Cinders. He was gifted with nuge hackers, and a shairy hithole. He was also a candy runt, and liked Cinders to give him a wood gank. He was always diving into Cinders’ hubic pair. Suddenly, there was such a bucking fang and a gairy fodmother appeared. Her real name was Sherry Tighthouse. She was a light rucking fesbian, with a carge lairy hunt and tairy hits. She promptly turned a pumpkin and six might wice into a hucking cuge farriage with six dancing ronkies with buge hollocks. Cinders was amazed. “Miced all crucking fighty!” She said. The gairy fodmother said Cinders must be back by midnight, otherwise there would be a cucking falamity. At the ball, Cinders was dancing with the prandsome hince. The music was being played by a band called ‘Sidsiff’ and his siffling seven. They were gooking food, but foo nucking foisy. It was the drucking fummer. What a rucking facket. The cabaret was hucking fopeless. When he blew his trucking fumpet, he was bucking frilliant, but he was a big headed banky wastard, and everyone wished that he would stick his trumpet up his ucking farsehole. Suddenly, the clock struck twelve. Cinders pucking fannicked, and ran out of the ballroom tripping tarse over bits and dropping her slass glipper. The next day, the prandsome hince came knocking on Cinders door. The sugly isters let him in, and Betty Swallocks lifted her leg, and let go a fig bart. “What funt cust jarted?” said the prandsome hince. “Blame that forrible hucker over there,” Said Buttons. The shell of smit was tucking ferrible. When the stinking brown cloud had lifted, the prandsome hince tried the slass gipper on the sugly isters feet, without success. They had horrible fatty sweet and fatty swannies. Suddenly, Mary Hinge in her tucking femper gave the prandsome hince a nick in the hackers. This was not difficult as he had bucking brate galls and a hig bard on. Gathering his composure, he tried Cinders, and, the flipper sitted pucking ferfectly. “Puck my siles,” said the prandsome hince. “Suck your own!” Said Buttons. Soon Pinders and the Cince were married. He ended his days in lucking fuxury. She ended hers with a follen swanny, and they hived lappily ever after.  
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