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godmother

After Ever After: Part Five

Hey everyone! I am SO excited for After Ever After: Part Five because you get to meet…. Godmother! I can’t tell you how much FUN it was to come up with Godmother’s character; she’s the central comedic relief for this pilot chapter, I just love her sass and unashamed attitude! She owns everything she is and doesn’t excuse herself for anyone. Not to mention she’s deathly stylish! Think Karen Walker mixed with Kris Jenner: love it! Haha!
Enjoy part five Armoury!

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After Ever After: Part Five

Forty-five glorious minutes later, Cindy Ella sashayed down Swanston Street, arms laden with exquisite bags of all shapes and sizes. Inside the bags stacked in neat rows were boxes upon boxes. Inside the boxes were shoes, wrapped in the softest tissue paper by thoughtful shop assistants.
Cindy was still intoxicated from the experience. The spotlight from the shoe store weakened her, the scent of fine fragrance and leather diffused all of her doubts and woes and sitting on quality seating, encircled by an army of adoring maidens, she finally felt like a princess again. It was a dream come true.
Now, back in reality, Cindy waited with the crowd outside the church on the corner of Swanston Street, and walked amongst them once the green man flashed. Cindy thought it to be odd that strange coloured little men decided when and when not people and cars crossed the road. Then again, there were many more strange things in the place. She then saw Matt and Rorie sitting on the steps of Federation Square, and the moment she saw them her face lit up.
“Cindy!”
“Hey guys!” she tried her best to hug them through the barrier of shoe boxes and ribbon.
“What’s all this?” Rorie peeked into the bags.
“Magic,” Cindy inhaled and her eyes closed like she was being swept up into a daydream. “I went shopping, as they call it, and I’ve never felt better.”
“I’ve definitely got to go shopping with you then,” Rorie nodded almost aggressively.
“Er, I don’t really get it,” Matt shrugged. “Anyway, let’s head over?”
“If we have too,” Cindy rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for Godmother’s theatrics.”
Cindy linked arms with Rorie, Matt slid up with black sunglasses and, in the den of one of Melbourne’s busiest landmarks, the threesome walked among the culturally diverse, the pretentious hipster and the social elite, making their way across the street and up the steps of Flinders Street Station.
They halted at an inconspicuous armed guard in front of a burgundy door, who had a tiny little golden pin with the initials ‘D.S.S’ on his serious looking uniform. Oddly, Melbourne’s Department of Supernatural Services was not the most creative division of Human Resources and their head office and staff was lackluster and underwhelming at best.
The guard blinked at them once before opening the door for them. Cindy, Matt and Rorie headed up the thin staircase, its walls painted in an unflattering odd-salmon colour and then crossed over a tuna grey coloured carpet to the reception area. Instead of teapots, glass slippers and three bowls of porridge, the reception area’s most exciting object was a fake IKEA pot plant, minus the pot.
“They seriously need to sack their interior designer,” Cindy mentioned, screwing up her lips. “Her assistant isn’t here?”
All of a sudden, a long, shrill, “Daaaaaaaaaaarlings!” filled the corridor, Godmother making her presence known.
Even though the floor was clearly carpeted, Godmother’s Walter Steiger stilettoes clacked against the ground as she walked to them. In one hand, her early afternoon martini was half drunk, a cigarette filter with a smoking cigarette rested comfortably in-between her thin spider-like fingers in the other. Godmother looked as if she lived on a diet of half a pea and three litres of gin a day, and appeared as if her wardrobe came priority imported from Milan and New York. Her hair was precision cut, her makeup flawless, and her entire being reeked of glamour and panache. Her tiny, almost skeleton, frame was draped in some unspecified feathered creature, and even though she was tiny and wispy, her ego and presence could fill a cathedral.
“Come, come,” she purred and took a long drag of her cigarette, letting the ash fall onto the carpet. “Let’s get out of this abysmal excuse of an office and into my domain!”
Godmother opened the golden door at the end of the corridor and, as always, Cindy, Matt and Rorie were held breathless for a moment or two.
Godmother’s ‘office’ was at the furthest top of Flinders Street Station and was encased, practically saturated, in the skyscrapers of Melbourne city. Lush, Italian furniture, triple wicked black candles, walls of assorted liquor and gold and white accents filled the generous space.
“Sit,” she insisted, before she called out, “Russell!”
Russell ‘the love muscle’, Godmother’s assistant, came out from a door to left. Russell was from some unspecified country in Europe and he looked like a walking Calvin Klein ad. His ‘uniform’ was strictly tight short shorts and Timberland boots. Nothing else. Russell hustled over, his backside practically bulging out of his shorts as he carried six cocktails.
“Give each of our special guests a cocktail, sweetness.” Godmother’s eyes protruded as Russell leaned over in front of her. “Two for me.”
Moments later, sitting and with cocktails in hand, Godmother downed the last of her early-afternoon cocktail, tossed back the first of her new mid-afternoon cocktail in one gulp, and nested the other one in her hand.
“So,” she smacked her lips together, “we have lots of business to get through.” She lifted up her iPad and started tapping. “Shall we skip the pleasantries?”
“Ah, pleasantries?”
“Yeah, you know,” she tossed her hand in the air lazily. “That bit where I’m supposed to care? I’m mandated by the Department to check up on you, see how you’re going. You all know that I really don’t care.”
“Clearly,” Cindy said, dry and unimpressed.
“Oh, not like that,” Godmother rolled her eyes. “Come now, enough of that Russell,” she nodded at him twice, “fetch my bag.” She then looked back over at her charges. “We received your fourth roommate yesterday.” She flashed a set of recently bleached teeth at them. “Let’s get this over and done with. I have a facial in an hour.”
Russell handed Godmother her black Chanel bag, a large padded envelope sticking out of it. She took another drag of her cigarette, tipped the ash into a black marble ashtray and dropped the envelope on the table in-between them. “I’ll let you three do the honours.”
Cindy, Matt and Rorie studied the envelope for a long moment, before Rorie picked it up, Matt ripped it open and Cindy put her hand inside.
“Clearly she’s not used to feeling up a package,” Godmother winked at Russell and Cindy’s fingers tried to find whatever was placed inside. “Go a little deeper.”
With a sigh, Cindy plucked out what looked like a small black SD card. On one side it said “#4,” with the initials “D.S.S.”, and on the other side were tiny little letters stating it was “Made in China.”
“Russell, hit the lights,” Godmother instructed him. “Light a few candles, get the Transporter out.”
Cindy held up the little chip, and on either side of her Matt and Rorie squinted at it, their face full of intrigue.
“We have them manufactured there in China,” Godmother exhaled, a plume of smoke filling the air as she swished her martini, “and then the little chips sit in customs for weeks on end.”
The lights went out and several orange flames bounced about, perfuming the room with heavy exotic oils.
“Showtime!” Godmother clasped her manicure over the chip and handed it to Russell, who opened a cupboard and wheeled out what looked like a freestanding futuristic fridge. Russell then (much to Godmother’s pleasure) squatted down, slid in the chip at the front of the machine, flicked the switch on at its side, its insides beginning to shutter and fizz.
“Normally this is when I would explain the exact science and expert technique that is behind this machine, but our budget doesn’t really cater to that.” She downed the last of her drink and stood up. “All you need to know is that a cartoon 2D is being converted into a fully-grown Australian human.” She patted her cape as smoke frothed out of the machine.
The contraption then threatened to escalate to some sort of cinematic and climatic big budget scene, however it ended at a C-grade movie standard, with a barely audible ‘ding’ to indicate that it was finally done.
The door to the contraption then swung open.

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  • After Ever After: Part Six continues this Thursday the 11th of February, 2016.
  • Creative credit for this incredible image of Godmother goes to Lina Zabaleta, whose tumblr you can check out at linapoligrafia.tumblr.com – thank you SO much Lina for this unbelievable illustration!
  • This narrative was edited by my wonderful editor: Kayla Marie Murphy. Contact: kaylamariemurphy@hotmail.com for any inquiries.
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