Plumerella.

A Tale, Plum style

Disclaimer : I own nothing

Spoilers: None that I can think of.

Rating/Warnings: Don't know…What about "Ooops, I did it again!" ?

Many thanks to Stayce for editing and coming up with the title. But most of all, Babe, thank you for being such a wonderful Fairy Godmother.

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Once upon a time, in a fair city of New Jersey, there lived a girl named Plumerella. This little girl was born and raised in a borough called the Burg, well known for its sparkling clean windows, its narrow but well tended front yards, and the perfection of its housewives. Those housewives were proud of their talent at providing their families with well-cooked meals at regular hours, a well kept house 24/7, and well pressed underwear for each day of the week. They would have died of shame if any member of the family had gone out with wrinkles on their tighty whiteys and panties…They were also well known for their lack of fun, imagination and creativity. They had strong opinions on how people should live their lives. Conformism was their god, Norm was their best friend.

Plumerella was a real spitfire. She had spunk and attitude. She was wild, sexy and determined. ( Some people in the Burg tended to say that she was a weird, unruly, and stubborn bitch, though . . . go figure! ) Unfortunately, this pretty girl was raised to worship conformism and to stick to the norm; and all those wonderful qualities that made her who she was were nipped in the bud. To help her cope with the fact that Plumerella was far from being the perfect Burg daughter, her mother had started a close relationship with a certain Jack Daniels. Jack also proved helpful in forgetting the sheer boredom of being a perfect Burg housewife. Plumerella was a good daughter and was eager to please her family. She felt a bit guilty that her mother had started to knock it back because of her. As is often the case, the worst happened: she yielded to the pressure the Burg forced upon her. One day, she met some guy at the bakery. No one knew exactly what happened there but soon, Plumerella got married, settled in the Burg and became . . . a Burg housewife.

She did her best and tried hard to meet her husband's expectations, for he was a Burg man with strong beliefs about what his household should be like. So Plumerella, like every perfect Burg housewife, cooked, cleaned, washed, pressed, scrubbed, bleached and scoured. She learned to cook without setting the kitchen on fire. And most of the time, she didn't. She cleaned her windows and house on a daily basis. To please her husband, she hand washed and carefully pressed his tighty whiteys for she couldn't send him out with wrinkles on his butt. She scrubbed and bleached the floors of her row house again and again. She scoured the dishes, the table and the kitchen appliances until she could see her reflection in them. And what she saw brought tears to her eyes for it was not a pretty sight: chores and bleach, along with a dull life, had turned this once wild and sexy girl into a pathetic wretch.

On a sad and grey evening, Plumerella sat alone in her kitchen for her husband was having a night out with some co-workers. She had heard through the grapevine that he had been cheating on her for some time now. Sitting at her countertop she took a look at her life. This poor girl was as unhappy as could be. She was bored beyond her wits and sighed heavily for she knew this was her fate. Thinking of how it had all started, she couldn't help and whispered:

"I wish I had never sold him my canolli."

No sooner did she utter the sentence than she heard a pop, and in a hot pink swirl of smoke, two strange figures appeared in front of her.

" Yo, skinny ass, twas about time! We were about to give up hope on you!"

Plumerella's jaw dropped at the vision which had magically appeared in her kitchen. In front of her stood two ladies, both of them amazing in their appearance. The first one was dressed in a tight white dress, with huge black polka dots. The button holes seemed to strain over her ample chest, threatening to send buttons flying all over the place. She had lots of dark hair, tiny black eyes and the hint of a moustache adorning her upper lip. Her mouth and nails were painted in a bloody shade of red. The other lady was a very curvaceous black woman, teetering on four-inch spike heels and squashed into a poison green spandex dress. Her generous boobs were almost popping out of the low scoop neckline. She had her hair made up in tiny braids, with little pink and green pearls which clicked with her every move.

"Who …who are you?" stuttered Plumerella.

"Wadda ya mean "who are you?" ? Who do you think we are? Duh! We're your Fairy Godmothers! "

Plumerella was speechless. She stared at them, puzzled, wondering if Perrault, Andersen and the Grimm brothers had actually seen Fairy Godmothers when they described them in their fairy tales… These two sure didn't look the part.

"Honey, we've been watching over you, seeing you make some questionable choices," the first Fairy Godmother volunteered. "Thank God you finally uttered the magic sentence and here we are to help you clean up the mess you've made of your life."

Plumerella thought for a while. She had been regretting those choices for some time now and she wanted her life to change but…

"How can you help me?"

The Fairy Godmothers didn't answer but the second one came close to Plumerella, sniffed her and wrinkled her nose.

"Eeeew, what's that stench?…You smell like…bleach!!! Look at your hair! And look at those hands! When was the last time you had a decent manicure? No girl can go out with hair and nails like that! Hon, you're going to hell in a hand basket here! It's high time we took care of you!"

And so the Fairy Godmothers took care of Plumerella. They carefully did her hair and make up, did their best to get rid of the smell of bleach, then conjured up a skimpy red dress made of a barely there material and a pair of red four-inch FMPs. When she was all pampered and pretty, Plumerella took a look at herself in the mirror and for the first time in months, she smiled. Then she looked at her brand new manicure and heaved a huge sigh. Thinking that tomorrow she would have to scrub the house and hand wash…

"Holy shit, girl!", said the second Fairy Godmother, "Don't you ever learn? No way are you going back to that! No more of that fucking hand washing!" Then she made an impressive eye roll and mumbled something which sounded very much like… "What prick'd wear fucking tighty whiteys anyway?"

Damn, thought Plumerella, who knew that Fairy Godmothers had ESP? And such a potty mouth!

Her Fairy Godmothers sat her on the couch and talked to her for some time. They explained to Plumerella that their role was to remind her that she had always wanted to be an Intergalactic Princess, and that by no means would an Intergalactic Princess settle for a role as a Stepford Wife. Would Wonder Woman start to wear an apron instead of her skimpy shorts? Would she get rid of her knee high boots and lasso and start to bake cupcakes? Plumerella sighed. She knew they were right. She had just forgotten who she truly was.

Then, her Fairy Godmothers handed her a set of car keys. Plumerella peeked through the window. There, sitting at the curb was a bright red Ford Mustang convertible.

"Time to let your hair down, girl! Hope you're ready to paint the town red! Just be careful, you must be home before the stroke of midnight."

Plumerella nodded, thanked her Fairy Godmothers and set out for the RBLB, a new club that had just opened in town. She parked her car and smiled at the cat calls and wolf whistles which greeted her when she got out. Damn, it was good to feel alive again. She felt sexy; sexier than she had ever felt. Plumerella added an extra swing to her hips and strutted to the club.

Once inside, she headed for the bar and ordered a margarita. Slowly sipping her drink, she let her eyes wander over the crowd. Soon they settled on a dancer who was staring at her. Her heart skipped a beat. God that man was beautiful. His black jeans fit him snugly and he was wearing a black T-shirt which looked like it was painted on his perfect chest. He was sensuous and moved like a cat. Without a word he prowled towards her, his dark Latino eyes never leaving hers. With a blinding smile, the Man in Black took her hand and heads turned as he led her to the dance floor. They danced together for a long time, their hips swaying and dipping to the beat, both oblivious to the other dancers envious looks. Plumerella was enjoying the rhythm of their bodies dancing to the music, and the feeling of his hands brushing her skin through the thin fabric of her dress. His scent was intoxicating. From time to time, he was murmuring sweet little nothings in Spanish, his lips brushing the shell of her ear and sending shivers down her body. She wished that the night would never end. Suddenly she realised it was close to midnight and remembered her Fairy Godmothers' words. She didn't know exactly what would happen to her if she didn't come back home now but she feared their wrath. So as much as it cost her, she pulled away from her mystery man's arms. He raised a quizzical eyebrow:

"Babe?"

" I'm sorry", she whispered, disentangling herself from his embrace, "I must go".

He tried to hold her back as she ran away. In her escape, she lost one of her red FMPs .

"Holy shit! Those are Jimmy Choos" she cursed as she hopped in her car.

Once home she did some thinking and realised that she had to make a decision. Her Fairy Godmothers were right. She had made some bad choices and it was high time for her to put her life back on track. When her husband came back home in the wee hours of the morning, she had made up her mind. He found her sitting on the couch in the living room.

"Hey Cupcake", he slurred, "not in bed? Come upstairs with me. The guys miss you."

Plumerella had put up with that stupid nickname and demeaning line time and time again. But that night, it was one time too many. She went from perfect Burg housewife to her true self in a nanosecond. In two strides, she was in front of him, poking him in the chest to emphasize her every word.

"Don't you dare serve me that fucking bullshit again, you low-life cheating scumbag! I'm fed up with this nickname, fed up with this line, fed up with you cheating on me and fed up with this life! So you'd better pack your things and beat it! Coz if you don't, I can tell you that you're gonna miss your guys. Permanently."

At her words, her husband turned a very unbecoming shade of green. Not that he was afraid, no. But the very idea of hanging around with his guys floating in a jar of formaldehyde wasn't that appealing to him. So he packed his most treasured possessions, his guys, and he cleared off.

Once alone in her living room, Plumerella looked around her and sat down on her couch. She was quite proud of herself. Some bad decisions had made her follow the wrong path but she was back on track now. Her eyes fell upon her forlorn Jimmy Choo FMP which had lost its mate and she sighed. Her mind wandered to her Fairy Godmothers and her mysterious Man in Black. She wondered who he was and if she'd ever see him again. She had the feeling that she would. Plumerella drifted off to sleep with a smile on her lips.

She awoke with a start. She knew she wasn't alone. Her eyes fluttered opened and settled on the figure sitting on the armrest of the couch. The Man in Black was staring at her, a small smile tugging at his lips and a red FMP dangling from his fingers.

"Hey! How did you….?"

He brought a finger to her lips to silence her.

"We have unfinished business, Babe. You left in the middle of our dance…"

He traced the outline of her cheek with a finger, then stood up, walked to the Stereo and inserted a CD. Latino music filtered into the living room. He took her in his arms, her body plastered to his and they started swaying to the beat.

"I don't know how to dance to this."

He nuzzled her hair and whispered to her ear:

"Don't worry about it, Babe." Then with a luscious grin he added: "I'll show you how."

And boy did he show her! He showed her in the living room. He showed her in the bedroom. He showed her in the kitchen and in the bathroom. They danced on the couch, on the bed, on the counter top, on the kitchen table and even in the shower. For the Man in Black could be very skilled and creative when it came to…dancing.

And they lived happily ever after.

Moral:

1 -Don't let anyone dictate you how to live your life. Never choose your path using another's moral compass. Determined is good. Unruly is good. Wild and weird are even better.

2 -Whenever in deep shit, call on your own Fairy Godmother. (Don't get fooled : Most of the time, they go undercover and call themselves friends.)

3 -Always wear rubber gloves when forced to do the chores. One of the worst things in life is to ruin a new manicure. (Along with missing the winter sales, a maxed out credit card and being called Cupcake…)

4 -Never get your panties into a bunch over some nasty pairs of tighty whiteys…Guys should go commando anyway… I'm partial to silky black boxers though…

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Never heard of the RBLB? It's a great club. Probably the best ever. Membership is required. . .

Now maybe some of you are wondering about the name of the club and the meaning of RBLB ? I'm taking your guesses on that one…You can leave them with your review. Maybe I can come up with a reward for the smartest, funniest, most wicked or sinful guess. The kind of reward you're not likely to forget…How do you feel about a …..dance… with a certain MIB? Yeah that's what I thought…

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Reviews, comments and constructive criticism welcome. Your stones will be used for the batcave.