Page 281 of Naughty Nelle

CHAPTER 33

“Where have you been?” shrieks Marcella. “And why does your skin look better than mine?”

I shuffle into her chamber, her red gown in its bag draped over my arm. I don’t know or care how she got back to the castle before me. My shock, rage, and despair have succumbed to numbness.

Clad in her feathered leopard negligee, she’s seated at her vanity, doing her makeup. I catch a glimpse of her face in the mirror. With her plaster-white skin, blood-red lips, and serpentine brows, she looks more like a monster in the making than a bride-to-be.

“I spent a fortune at that ridiculous spa,” she hisses. “Why didn’t you make them throw in free makeup and hair?”

Choosing to ignore her, I silently hang the bag with her gown over her closet door. Her chamber is a pigsty. It’s as if never existed. Her bed’s a mess; clothes are strewn everywhere, and fairy-tale tabloids are scattered all over the floor. Straightening things up, I come across an old front-page story that makes my heart jump:

SNOW WHITE TESTIFIES:

EVIL QUEEN DOOMED!

A Fairytale Tattler Exclusive by H.C. Anderson

The Evil Queen, charged as a possible suspect in the near-fatal poisoning of Snow White, was convicted today. Minutes before sentencing, Prince Gallant, who saved the beautiful princess—often thought to be the fairest in the land—told reporters, “I hope The Evil Queen gets what she deserves.”

Oh, God. I have gotten what I deserve. Death would have been a kind punishment compared to what I’m suffering now. I force myself to read on.

Medical tests have revealed that The Evil Queen poisoned Snow White with a rare snake venom, that caused her to go into a deadly, deep sleep.

Snake venom?Wait a minute. This shoddy reporter got his facts all mixed up. My evil potion, the one I used for the apple, was made with powdered stinkweed, bulbadox juice, and dragonstone extract. I didn’t use any snake venom. Not a single drop!

Before I can read more, Marcella eyes me in the corner of her vanity mirror. “This is no time to be reading gossip magazines!” she snaps. “You’re supposed to be dressing me!”

I let go of the magazine and slump over to her gown. Carefully, I remove it from the garment bag. The long train puddles on the floor.

Marcella gives it the once-over. “Perfection! Now, get me into it.”

Ripping off her negligee, she exposes her corseted body. My eyes pop. Who knew what really lurked beneath that towel in the sauna. Her tummy bulges as if it’s hiding a loaf of bread; saddlebags line the sides of her cottage cheese thighs, and her cannonballs are the size of small planets. She’s easily gained fifteen pounds, thanks to my high caloric diet potion. Yet, another one of my brilliant plans gone bad. Getting the skank into her slinky gown is going to be a lot harder than I imagined. A contest of mind over matter. War.

Then, ding, a little bell goes off in my head as I’m undoing the fastenings. So what if it doesn’t fit her? She won’t have a wedding gown. No gown. No wedding. I’ll be the victor. And to the victor belongs the spoils. Could I…?

“What are you waiting for?” growls Marcella, cutting my tempting thoughts short. Impulsively, she grabs the gown out of my hands and steps into it, feet first. She slides it up her legs. Damn it. So far, so good. But once it gets to her hips, it won’t budge. Not even an inch.

“Do something!” she screams.

“Squeeze your butt. And suck in your gut,” I tell her. Good luck.

Ha! No matter how hard she squeezes or sucks, the dress won’t give. Losing her patience, she begins to yank at it, stretching it in every direction. The taut sound of seams bursting sends a shiver down my spine.

No matter how much I hate her, no matter how much I cannot bear the thought of her marrying Gallant, I can’t let her destroy Armando’s masterpiece. I can’t. With both hands, I pull the dress down. It bunches on the floor like a red ball of fire.

“What have you done?” she screeches. “I’m going to be late for the ball!”

She splays her knuckly fingers across the bulges of her corseted hips. Eyeing her monstrous, flashy diamond, I get an idea. A brilliant one.

“This is going to work.” I smile wickedly. With a single yank, I pull in the strings of her corset, so tightly that her eyes bulge out of their sockets.

“What are you doing?” she gasps.

Isn’t it obvious? I’m suffocating you, wench!

Marcella moans. A memory of Snow White flickers in my head. This is exactly how I once tried to kill her. I tremble and quickly loosen Marcella’s corset.

She lets out a deep breath.

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