Apex Book Company

Short Fiction: When the Party’s Over

“Two minutes to air, people! Two minutes!” the stage manager bawled as he stormed across the stage. “Let’s finish getting the audience in and settled.”

The crew scurried to complete their tasks in the last fleeting moments; their concentration absolute in the cacophony of the audience filling the stage seating to capacity. An electric excitement carried across the whole studio.

The stage manager knocked on a dressing room door. “One minute, Ms. Lynch.”

“Thank you, Harvey.” Monica Lynch came out of her dressing room and smiled at the thirty-something, balding man wearing the wild print shirt over t-shirt and jeans. He wore a headset covering one ear. “How are our guests doing?”

“About what you’d expect?” Harvey said with a shrug.

“They’re not fighting yet, are they?”

“Not yet, but it’s there. They’re saving it for the cameras.”

“Perfect.”

Harvey listened to his headset. “Twenty seconds, Ms. Lynch.”

“Then places, Harvey, places.”

#

The audience went silent in anticipation as Harvey counted down the last few seconds before going live on television. The theme music swelled, and the anonymous announcer introduced the show and its host, Monica Lynch.

The audience went wild as Monica made her grand entrance. She was a stately woman in the prime of her adult life. She was the personification of charm, charisma, and compassion - of which, only part was a complete sham. She paused a moment to bask in the adoration of her audience. Oprah, eat your heart out.

Monica Lynch was the most controversial talk show host on the air. She left everyone else in the dust. Jenny Jones, Dr. Phil, even Geraldo had nothing on her. Her guests and fans were heralded as the “Lynch Mob”, and even acted like it. Monica had made more people cry than Barbara Walters, created more fights than Jerry Springer, and the viewing audience couldn’t wait to see what she would do next.

When the roar of the crowd started to wan, she began her introduction to that day’s show. “Hello and thank you! We have a great show in store for you today. You’ve heard the stories - young girls, wicked stepmothers, and charming princes. It’s a classic combination, but does it always lead to Happily Ever After? Were young girls really innocent? How wicked were the stepmothers? We’re about to find out. This is blended family dynamics at its best - or worst. We’ll meet our first guests right after these messages.”

“And we’re out!” Harvey shouted. “Two minutes, everyone.”

Monica relaxed a smidgen and used the break to settle in her chair. Around taking a sip of water and having her hair and makeup checked, she flipped through her notes to remind herself of the game plan. She would occasionally acknowledge something from the audience, but for the most part, she ignored them.

“Twenty seconds,” Harvey prompted.

Monica put away her notes and put on her mega-watt, camera ready smile, ready for Harvey’s final countdown. “And we’re back. Our first guest needs no introduction. We were captivated by the rags to riches story. We were fascinated by the shoes. Please welcome Cinderella!”

The crowd went wild as the popular blond haired, blue eyed princess glided out on stage. She and Monica greeted each other warmly. Then, when the crowd quieted sufficiently, Monica brought out her second guest.

“Also with us today, a young woman who’s endured multiple attempts on her life by her stepmother. She made her own way in the Dwarfish community and is now also a princess, please welcome, Snow White!”

Again the crowd went nuts for the dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty. She gave them her brightest blood red smile as she greeted Monica and Cinderella. She took her place on the guest sofa.

“And our third guest is somewhat of an exception. Though she didn’t suffer at the hands of a stepmother, she was cursed by a wicked fairy godmother. Please welcome Aurora, better known as Sleeping Beauty!”

The second blonde bombshell received a slightly cooler reception, since she wasn’t as well-known or loved as the other two princesses. She waved politely to the audience, greeted the others on stage and took her own seat.

Monica paused for dramatic effect a moment before getting on with the interview process. “As we’ve already mentioned, there is a common thread connecting you all - stepmothers or godmothers. How has that really contributed in your life, and how much was the press blowing things out of proportion? Aurora, why don’t you go first?”

“Well, granted, I didn’t have the same stepmother issue these other girls had, but at least they knew what was happening to them. No one told me about the curse this evil witch put on me when I was born. One day I’m roaming the castle, minding my own business, trying new things, when - BAM! - the next thing I know it’s a hundred years later and there’s some prince standing over me. Fairy godmothers! Bah! Who needs ‘em!”

“Mine was pretty cool,” Cinderella said sweetly. “If it weren’t for my fairy godmother, I’d still be back in my father’s house doing domestic work. And I’ll tell you, Monica, the press didn’t exaggerate one bit with my case. The witch my father married made me a servant in my own home.”

“Oh whine, whine, whine.” Snow White crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “‘I slept for a hundred years’.'My mommy made me mop the floors’. You had it so rough. Yeah, right.”

“It sounds like you’ve got something to say, Snow.”

“Darned right, I do, Monica. When one of these two has a stepmother who not only hires a hit man to have her killed, but tries it herself three times, then I’ll have some sympathy. And they didn’t have to deal with the dwarves.”

“You got to live with seven men who adored you!” Cinderella retorted. “I had to deal with two power hungry stepsisters who undermined everything I did to better myself.”

“Oh, boo freakin’ hoo. You got to meet your prince at a party, dressed up and pretty. I had to wait for mine to stumble onto me in the woods while I was unconscious.”

“You think that ball was easy? You try dancing in glass slippers. They’re cold. They’re hard. And they have no traction!”

“Well, what about me?” Aurora interrupted.

“What about you?” Snow White and Cinderella chorused.

“At least you got to live your lives! I slept through what should’ve been my life. I woke up and everything was completely different! A hundred years is a long time!”

Monica sat back and watched as the girls bickered among themselves over who’d had the rougher life and smiled smugly. She loved it when her guests took over. It made her job a lot easier. She’s let them have their heads - like frisky, young colts - for another minute. A discreet cue from Harvey told her it was time to rein her guests in before going to commercial.

“We have to take a break. When we come back, we’ll hear the other side of the story.” Monica looked at her guests. The cameras followed and fixed on the princesses puzzled expressions. “Stay tuned.”

Harvey led the cheering crowd to new levels of enthusiasm before giving the all clear and a two minute warning. The set was rearranged to accommodate the next set of guests. Hair and makeup people swarmed over the stage - fixing, powdering, and teasing - then melted away before Harvey began his final countdown. The princesses, who’d been chatting amiably in those two minutes, went right back to looking pensive. Monica had to give them credit for being trained to know their roles.

She turned back to the audience and the camera. “Our next set of guests have been pursued, persecuted and vilified by the press and the public, but has it all been a giant misunderstanding? I give you the stepmothers! Cinderella’s stepmother, Blanche; Snow White’s stepmother, Clarisse; and Aurora’s fairy godmother, Lilith!”

The three women came out as Monica said their names. Boos, catcalls, and general unpleasantness greeted each woman as she came out, until Monica introduced Lilith. The fairy’s entrance brought a hushed air of fearful respect. The stage hands kept the crowd controlled enough to keep them from throwing things. No one wanted another lawsuit. The women sat primly on their sofa across from their charges. “Charges” being an operative word - sparks of recrimination flew between the women on stage in a most dramatic moment. Monica drew it out as long as she dared. Then it was back to business.

“Ladies, you’ve heard the girls’ stories while backstage. Now, it’s your turn. Blanche, let’s start with you.”

No one could deny that Blanche was a handsome woman, but with a cold, hard edge. “I did the best I could, Monica. I was a single mother with two girls of my own when I met Cindy’s father. I put the best interests of my own girls ahead of hers. So what? What parent wouldn’t? I did my best with her.”

“Your best?” Cinderella scoffed. “You turned me into a maid!”

“I was trying to teach you life skills! Something to fall back on in case you needed to work.”

“I wore rags and slept in a tiny room off the kitchen.”

“Lessons in humility! I didn’t want to make the same mistake with you that I made with my own girls. Don’t you think I didn’t know my own two girls were conceited and lazy?”

“And ugly.” Cinderella wasn’t smiling so sweetly now.

“That’s uncalled for!” Blanche stabbed a finger at her. “Besides, you have skills that will carry you through the rest of your life! That’s more than I had!”

“Yeah, right.”

“Maybe Cindy is trying to tell you, Blanche, that there might’ve been better ways to get those life lessons across.” Monica was in translator mode now.

Cinderella’s blue eyes flashed. “If this was all for ‘my own good’, Blanche, then explain why you did what you did the day of the ball?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come now, Blanche, this isn’t a court of law,” Monica prodded none too gently. “Don’t worry about self-incrimination. Think of this as your opportunity to tell your side of the story. Clear the air.”

“Yeah, Blanche, tell them about how you wouldn’t let me go to the ball when every woman in the realm was supposed to go! How you had your girls destroy my dress? How you locked me in my room so I couldn’t have gone even if I’d had the dress.”

“You did pretty well with that fairy godmother of yours,” Blanche shot back.

“I didn’t want a godmother! I wanted a mother! Was that too much to ask?”

“You ended up with a handsome prince and a kingdom! What did I get out of all of it? I can’t go anywhere without someone booing me, and don’t get me started on the pushing and spitting. You had that prince of yours turn my girls into statues!”

“The statue thing was his idea, and it was only for a month! Besides, the prolonged clay mask did wonders for their skin! Ask them!”

Cinderella pointed out into the audience. The camera and the audience’s attention were drawn to the two embarrassed young women alternating between trying to sink into their seats and enjoying the attention. The girls were slightly older than Cinderella and plain, but the “ugly” epitaph had been exaggerated.

Monica was immediately on her feet, holding out her hand for the wireless microphone which was slapped into it by Harvey. It had the feel of an experienced surgical team. Before the audience could draw a collective breath, Monica was at the end of the sisters’ row drawing them out.

“Tell us your names, please?”

“Um, I’m Hortense,” the taller, older, leaner sister answered.

“And I’m Maude,” said the shorter, rounder, younger sister.

“And do you have something you’d like to say about all of this?”

Hortense took control of the microphone. “You know, Monica, Cindy was right. Being a statue did do wonders for the pores - even cleared up Maude’s stubborn acne.”

“It did!” Maude beamed for the camera. “At least it had some visible benefit, not like what Mother Dearest wanted us to do.”

“And what was that?”

“When Cindy’s prince showed up with that stupid glass slipper, she,” Hortense indicated Blanche, “wanted us to cut off parts of our feet to make the shoe fit. Do whatever we had to get that prince.”

Blanche jumped to her feet, gesturing emphatically toward them. “I was only trying to provide for you the best way I knew how!” The crowd booed and hissed her back into her seat. “I was just trying to look for my…for you girls!”

Monica sent Hortense and Maude back to their seats and made her way back to the stage. She noticed Cinderella expression was somewhere between smugness and uncertainty. It was an unusual expression, but one Monica knew well. She also knew it was time to switch the focus.

“Clarisse, what about you? Snow White contends you tried to have her killed not once but four times.”

“All the charges were dropped.”

Snow White snorted in a most unlady-like manner. Monica smiled slowly. This was going to be good. She could feel the ratings climb.Clarisse went on. “It’s bad enough to get older, but do you realize the pressure to retain one’s beauty in this world? You gain a little bit of weight, get one wrinkle, or heaven forbid contemplate cosmetic surgery, and the press is all over you! Then before you know it, you’ve been replaced by the next young thing.”

“Is that why the Magic Mirror?” Monica asked.

“How else was I supposed to keep up with my competition? This was my livelihood we were talking about. Then she sprouted. It was one thing when she was an adorable little brat, but when Snow became a teenager… She would’ve had my throne if I hadn’t done what I did.” Clarisse stopped herself before she finished the sentence.

Monica didn’t let the minor curse in the back of her brain reach anything that would come across on camera. She’d come this close to an on-camera confession. She turned her attention to Snow White. The young princess was sputtering wordlessly in her seat. If possible, her trademark snow white skin paling even further.

“That’s what this whole horrid affair was all about?” the young woman demanded when she could speak. “Public opinion?”

“Public opinion is worth more than gold when it comes to politics, my dear. Haven’t you learned that by now?”

“What have I learned? What have I learned? I’ll tell you what I’ve learned…”

The audience growled its approval. They knew the sounds of a cat fight when they heard one. Monica spared a glance their direction, but it was good movement. It didn’t have the feel of anything dangerous. She let them go a while longer.

“Just because you wanted to stay a cover girl, I had to live with seven dwarves? If I was to live at all? Are you serious?”

“What’re you complaining about?” Clarisse demanded. “You’re the fairest one in the land whether you have dishpan hands or not! You have the prince, power, popularity…”

“No thanks to you!”

“Be careful, Snow, you’re starting to sound like me.”

Snow White leapt to her feet. The red tipped index finger on one hand stabbing toward her stepmother. Her other hand clenched in a tight fist. “I am nothing like you!”

“Not yet, maybe, but just you wait until the next young thing comes along, then we’ll see!”

“Never!” Snow White’s voice dropped to an intense, emotion-laden growl. “I will never, ever be like you.”

The princess dropped back onto the sofa with a muffled sob. Monica automatically handed her a box of tissue. Snow White took a couple and daintily dabbed her eyes and her nose, careful not to smear her makeup.

Monica knew a transition when she saw it and turned to the last woman. “Let’s move on to you, Lilith. While you’re not technically a stepmother, but you’ve fulfilled the role traditionally held by them. Why did you put the curse on Aurora?”

“Revenge.”

Monica was surprised by the taciturn, one word answer. She hoped for more, but Lilith folder her hands in her lap and sat back. Monica smiled slowly as she sized the fairy up. Lilith wasn’t the tiny, delicate winged creature most people associated with the word. She was tall, angular with sharp bones and planes. She had a dusky complexion and stormy dark eyes. If Monica didn’t know better, she would swear Lilith was a thundercloud on two legs. Her reticence meant nothing to Monica. She’d dealt with tougher interviews.

“Revenge for what?”

“Her parents slighted me. They invited everyone else to her christening but me.”

“It wasn’t on purpose!”

Lilith turned on Aurora, eyes flashing like lightening. “What do you know about it, you little twit?”

The audience reacted enthusiastically to the interview already dissolving into name calling. Monica had to follow things closely now, to make sure things didn’t break down completely.

“I heard the stories after I woke up. I read the letters. They told me what you did. I bet it really ticked you off when I didn’t die.”

“Sleeping for a hundred years was enough, especially when your parents had to remain awake for the good of the kingdom. Did you think I didn’t know about Callie hiding in the wings? I knew what she was going to do, and either way, I got what I wanted. Your parents suffered.”

“Just because you had your feelings hurt? No one had seen you for decades! You were a legend! You weren’t real!”

“Well, they learned the value of not making assumptions, now didn’t they?”"Didn’t you ever hear of an RSVP? Or a forwarding address? From what I was told, they tried but you didn’t respond! Who knew you were coming? If you got your feelings hurt, it’s your own fault!”

Lilith glared at Aurora as the audience roared its approval of the Beauty’s argument. Monica glanced at Harvey. He was gesturing frantically for her to wrap up.

“We have to take another break, but when we come back we’ll be taking questions and seeing if we can get to the bottom of all of this. Please stay tuned.”

She held her smile and her pose until Harvey released her. Everyone relaxed as the crew scurried about their tasks. Monica’s microphones were checked as she headed out into the audience for the next segment. This was actually her favorite part of the show, the free for all. Anything could happen now, and Monica could count on her “Lynch Mob” to make it happen.

“And we’re back! If you’ve just joined us, we’re talking with the princesses and their stepmothers. Now it’s time for questions from our studio audience.”

Hands went up all over the studio. Monica had a good eye for picking which could be good drama and which were simply people looking for fifteen seconds of fame. She picked a round, enthusiastic matron for her first question.

The large woman in the loud floral print patio dress climbed to her feet and all but snatched the microphone out of Monica’s hand. “All I wanna know is what kinda mama you ladies - and I use that term loosely - think you are? Anybody treatin’ their younguns that way should be horsewhipped.”

“It didn’t kill them, so now they’re stronger,” Lilith responded coolly. “I may not be a mother, but I applaud what these ladies did for the girls. Look at them - strong, independent women who are now are rich and powerful.”

“You gotta to be kidding! How can you possibly justify…”

“You weren’t there!” Clarisse shouted jumping to her feet, stabbing the air with her finger. “You don’t know the pressure we were under.”

“Would you do things differently if you could go back and do it again?” Monica asked, getting into the fray.

“We can’t answer that!” Blanche said.

“Why not?” Cinderella demanded, getting to her feet and into Blanche’s face. “Why can’t you answer that? Because you’d do the exact same thing? You’d do the exact same things all over again? Wouldn’t you?”

“She didn’t say that!” Clarisse jumped to Blanche’s defense - verbally and physically. “We’d do our best for you like we did then.”

“Your best? Your best!” Snow White got into the mix. “You think that was doing your best?”

“You got the prince, didn’t you?”

“Who asked us if that’s what we wanted?” Aurora joined the other girls. “Did you ever ask if we wanted those princes?”

“All princesses want a prince. Everyone knows that.”

“Says you. Did you ever ask?”

Snow White looked at Clarisse. “I never wanted to be fairest in the land. I didn’t ask to be. That was my birth mother’s wish, not mine. Did you ever think to ask what I may have wanted? NO! It’s all about the queen’s wishes - not the princess’.”

“And just what’s so special about a Prince?” Cinderella demanded. “I mean most the time they’re more inbred than half the red necks in Arkansas.”

“Hey!” A trio of similarly outraged voices protested from off camera.

Monica turned with cameras and audience to the three young men storming their way onto the stage. One was tall, virile with the looks of a romance cover model. The one next to him was much the same, except with teen movie idol looks. Monica had no doubt these were the handsome princes.

The third was different. He was shorter, stockier, more “typical” looking with slightly thinning hair, but he had a charisma about him that made people stop and take notice. Monica knew in a flash this was Prince Charming. He would be the most dangerous.The three paragons of male royalty strutted toward their women. Monica had to move quickly to reach the stage in time to meet them. The drama level just shot up another notch. And from the looks on the girls’ faces, Monica was glad they’d gone from chairs to sofas or someone would have something broken by a chair. She quickly inserted herself between the boys and girls, drawing everyone’s attention to herself and the cameras.

“Would you gentlemen care to have a seat and tell us your side of the story?”

“Why sit?” the Fabio-esque prince, Handsome #1, demanded. “When we can say everything we need to say right here?”

Charming stepped forward and smiled in a winning manner. “We’re here, Monica, because we’re tired of getting the short end of this stick.”

“What stick is that?” Cinderella looked him over haughtily. “If anyone’s getting the short stick, I’d say it was Snow.”

The audience reacted loudly to that. Charming’s face froze and his mouth went tight.

Aurora sneered a bit. “Besides, you - all of you - got what you wanted, a princess to carry on your family lines.”

The teen idol prince, Handsome #2, carried on for the testosterone-laden trio. “Oh, yeah, we so got what we wanted. Co-dependent, diva princesses and the mothers-in-law from Hell. Oh, yeah, that’s our fairy tale romance. Why do you think we spend so much time ‘patrolling the borders’? None of us are warring - it was to get away from all your whining.”

Charming turned on Snow White. “We were just as deceived, manipulated, and used as you were, and you don’t see us moaning about it.”

Handsome #2 turned on Cinderella, anger not about to mar his teen idol looks. “Did you really think I wanted to go throughout the realm trying that slipper on every girl? The smell of sweat socks still gives me nightmares. I did it because I fell in love at that stupid party, and it’s what was expected of me! It’s part of our lives, we deal with it.”

Cinderella’s lower lip trembled as she backed down from her prince’s tirade, her big blue eyes filling with tears. Somewhere in the back of Monica’s brain she added up the ratings points this was going to net her.

“We all did what was expected of us. Didn’t you ever think it was strange that I met you in a forest - with my allergies? Come on! Think about it.”

“Well…” Snow White hesitated, suddenly uncertain about a lot of things.

Handsome #1 turned on Aurora, “And you, did you really think I wanted a hundred year old sleeping chick? I was manipulated into being at the ‘right place at the right time.’”

Aurora sputtered.

“So what are you trying to say?” Monica prompted when all three princesses collapsed on their sofa in sobbing puddles.

“We’re saying the party’s over, Monica,” Charming replied. “Either these women get some counseling, or they find some new fairy tales. We’re gonna walk.”

Everyone made shocked and horrified sounds. The stepmothers and even Lilith jumped to their feet in protest. Charming turned on them next. “Don’t get me started on you ladies. We’ve given you all plenty of time and opportunity to straighten this out. You wouldn’t. Now, it’s all or nothing.”

“That sounds an awful lot like an ultimatum,” Monica said.

“Not ’sounds like’, Monica. It is an ultimatum. You don’t understand what it’s been like, living with this. We have full support of the fathers, too. We’re not leaving without an answer.”

“You dare give me an ultimatum?” Lilith demanded in a voice that sounded suspiciously like thunder. Some of the audience members ducked in their seats.

“Give it a rest, Lilith, or we’ll tell everyone you’re not as scary as you pretend to be,” Handsome #1 said, smiling sweetly.

Lilith glared at him.

“Do the words ‘pink taffeta’ mean anything to you, Lil?”

“Okay, okay, deal.”

“Lilith!” Clarisse and Blanche chorused, horrified.

“I wouldn’t get too comfortable if I were you ladies,” Handsome #2 said. “We have your numbers too.”

“Give it your best shot, pretty boy,” Blanche said.

“Grandchildren,” Charming said. “And the lack thereof.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Clarisse finally hissed. “You need children, too.”

“There are other ways to do that which don’t involve you people,” Charming said.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Cinderella said, planting her hands on her hips. “We’d take you to the cleaners in community property.”

“It might be worth it,” Handsome #2 said. “Listen, Princesses, we’re tired of the drama and you’re not even queens yet.”

“And if you don’t deal,” Handsome #1 said, picking up where 2# left off. “You never will.”

“So what’s it gonna be, ladies?” Charming asked. “Counselors are standing by.”

The women looked among themselves with expressions mixing apprehension and suspicion. Then in a rush they agreed as one. The audience went wild.

Monica saw they were out of time. “We will check back in with our guests in the future to see how this all plays out. Because, even as the princes have said, the party may be over, but the ever after is just beginning. Whether or not it’ll be happy is anyone’s guess. Just because this shows fairy tales may not always come true, here’s encouraging you to never stop wishing…”

The guests behind Monica were heard repeating, in various degrees of sincerity, “I’m sorry,” while hugging in varying degrees of warmth. Monica didn’t even spare them a glance. “I’m Monica Lynch. Good night.”

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Rhonda Eudaly lives in Fort Worth, Texas with her cat, Dixon, where she is a self-proclaimed “Jane-of-All-Trades”. Her two passions are writing and music.

Her work has been featured in More Stories That Won’t Make Your Parents Hurl; Fundamentally Challenged; Sinister Sleuths; Cyber Oasis; two stories in the Charles Grant Charity Anthology, Small Bites; and the ASFA Quarterly - Winter 2004 issue. She is a writer with the Fort Worth Tribune.

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Rhonda Eudaly’s short story “Dream Takers” appears in the Apex Publications anthology Aegri Somnia.

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