Page 240 of Naughty Nelle

You mean you need to get new shoes. I need to get a new job.

Emperor Armando, back to being his effervescent self, hugs me good-bye. “Jane, dahling, I’ll see you soon.”

How does he know my name? I don’t recall telling him.

The shoe store, a few doors down, is called The Glass Slipper. Its motto: “For the Perfect Fit Shoe.”

Whereas The Ballgown Emporium was large and grand, this store is small and intimate. A boutique. Dainty, candle-lit chandeliers bathe the upholstered pale blue walls in a warm glow and make the shoe samples scattered on glass shelves sparkle like jewels. The boutique’s namesake centerpiece—a giant glass slipper sculpture—sits smack in the middle of a large, circular silk couch.

The couch is lined with dozens of royal women, trying on stacks of shoes. An army of elves runs helter skelter, assisting the demanding customers. I bet every princess in Lalaland must come here. My heart skips a beat. What if I run into Snow White?

Marcella strolls around the store in a trance, salivating over every pair of shoes. I should have brought a bucket.

“Hello, can I help you?” comes a voice from afar.

That voice! I know it! Again, it can’t possibly be…

From a back room, in lopes a tower of a woman wearing white, jeweled cat-eye glasses. She looks at me. I look at her. We scream simultaneously, then run to hug each other. I can’t believe it! Elzmerelda!! This is too much. First, Winnie. And now Elz!

“I love your spectacles!” I tell her. She’s one of those people who actually look better in glasses than without them. They make her nose seem smaller and draw attention away from her other homely features.

“Thanks!” says Elz in her singsong voice. “I designed them myself.”

Marcella shimmies up to us. “Do you two like know each other?”

“We’re old friends,” I reply.

“Good! You can get me a discount.”

You don’t pay me enough, skank.

Elz asks Marcella her shoe size.

“Can’t you tell? I’m a sample Size 6!”

A six, my foot!Her feet are the size of overgrown bananas.

Marcella demands to try on every shoe. Without flinching, Elz retreats to the stock room. She returns with two towers of glass boxes, all marked Size 6. Marcella goes at them like a vulture. With grunts and groans, she tries to squeeze her long, veiny feet into one pair after another. No matter how hard she tries, she can’t; they’re simply all too small.

“These shoe boxes are either mismarked, or you’ve carelessly placed the wrong size shoes in them,” Her Royal Skankiness grumbles. She orders Elz to bring her another pair of Size 6 shoes in every style.

On the floor is a mountain of discarded shoes. Pig! I help Elz match up the shoes and return them to their proper box. Carrying the twin towers of perfectly stacked glass boxes, she heads back to the stock room.

“What’s taking so long?” asks Marcella. Steam is shooting out of her nostrils. She’s going to blow. Hurry, Elz! Hurry!

Just in time, Elz reappears with two new stacks of shoes. Something’s weird about the boxes. It takes me a minute to figure it out. I know. They’re upside down. The top lids where Size 6 is marked are now on the bottom. Ha! The shoes are actually Size 9 (6 upside down!). Marcella doesn’t notice; she tries them all on, in rapid-speed succession. They fit her perfectly.

“Told you I was a perfect sample Size 6!” she gloats. “I’ll take them all.”

I can’t believe it. She still hasn’t figured out the shoes are really Size 9. As she waltzes around the boutique in a pair of her new shoes, Elz and I shake our heads in astonishment.

Suddenly, Marcella screams out, “I’ve got to have them!” She’s discovered yet another pair of shoes she can’t live without. A pair of sparkly ruby slippers. The perfect shoes to wear with her new red ball gown.

“They’re Size 6!” she squeals. “And they’re ON SALE!”

“They’re the last pair,” says Elz.

Just as Marcella’s about to swoop them up, the portly, white-haired woman I saw earlier at The Ballgown Emporium snatches them. “Ring them up,” she commands Elz in her familiar booming voice.

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