In the old days, they wanted me to make then look rich and pretty so they could catch the eye of someone rich, naive and influential. Simpler times, blonde ambition reached no further than catching their prince and having their dream day in the whitest frilliest of dresses with the envious crowds looking on.
It's easier for them now of course, the thirst for fame is as strong, if not stronger than the hunger for a fairytale wedding. Easier for me too, even those that still believe in me I send away from my door.
I am getting too old to be moved by all of those bright eager faces, and besides the fad these days is for self-belief, not belief in magic. If they don't have that in spades the reality shows will grind them up anyway, just as surely as the days of domestic boredom drove the Cinderellas to become manipulative politicking courtiers.
Now, where's an old woman to get a nice cup of tea from? I call out to Charlotte, still as ugly as ever, to bring me refreshments and hand me the remote control. Britain's Got Talent is just starting...
Storm tossed reeds bounce back,
"you are strong, independent,
she needs me," he pleads.
She was the sort of girl who showed up to a wedding in a sports car and a figure skimming black dress, and she stalked in on impossible high heels, barely managing to avoid teetering. Her green eyes glinted under chunky layers of blonde fringe and above the foamy head of another pint of local bitter. She laughed raucously at dirty jokes, and sprinkled innuendo around like the trampled confetti. The wife of the man who was buying the girl drinks watched warily, wearily, without seeming to watch - years of practice at that. She trusted that her husband would know when to withdraw, to pull away when the flirting changed from exploratory to expectant, after all, he'd had years of practice too.
No-one wondered why the girl was wearing black.
The Man with No Name, he once said "They say marriages are made in Heaven, but so is thunder and lightning." Me and the wife, well, we were finally over after four and a half years together, and the first two were pretty good, but well; if you want a guarantee, buy a toaster.
She told me “I tried being reasonable, I didn't like it.” She reckoned it's what people know about themselves inside that makes 'em afraid, and she was afraid of what would happen if things kept on the way they did. But I didn't expect her to be standing over me one sultry sticky smoky night on the edge of the woods quoting The Man back at me. "There are two kinds of people in the world, my friend. Those who have a loaded gun and those who dig. You dig."
Inspired by Grey Johnson here
