The pass-up 2

 

 

THE PASS-UP

Rony Brown

Episode two- the glass slipper

 

Today, we Siitians have erhm, something, that when roughly translated in the human language is known as a party . There is a reason, and a good one at that, as to why this word has no direct translation in my language, for once a year, we people of Siit pretend that there is hope that someday all head bashings will cease.

But 'tis useless. For this day only incites people so they smash more heads the next day. But what can Sitianity do without hope! And yes, a day such as this day will definitely do the human some good.
 
You see, the poor thing is home sick. And since I have grown very fond of this little thing I can only hope that this party helps her home sickness.

(Fine, she is a head taller than I am. But I am the all-knowing sage, so don't judge me!)

I vividly recall the…uhmmmm… water she shed from her eyes, as though her eyes were waterfalls, when she told the family of farmers about herself.

(We siitians do not shed water.)

She told them her name.

"Dede", she said.

It sounded something like day-day. She said she was African; Ghanaian, to be exact.

(How else could she have been blessed with such paranormal curves.)

All my life, I have never seen any Siitian family sad after any waterwork.

Just look at them fuss over her; doing all they can to make her feel at home. This "party" better be good for Dede.

The Siitian family present her with a gown. It is made of the whitest wool and falls from her shoulders down to the Siitian marble floor. The gown clutches her physique at all the right places. Her hair is also braided to Siitian perfection despite its stubborn kink.

 Surely, she is going to be the belle of the ball.

From all the corners of the regions, Siitians gather to their regional capital in full plump and lush. Many will have their glass slipper slipped on their foot. The nitwit who slid a glass slipper on my foot fell victim to my first head smashing.
 
So what is all this talk about glass slippers, you may ask.

In the human world there is a folklore. It is a lore as old as old can be. This lore goes by the name, "Cinderella". A lore of Siitian origin, I must insist. For in Siit, when a man slips a glass slipper on the foot of a young maiden ,he has by so doing declared the maiden duly wed.

I pray Dede finds someone who steals her heart. I pray some one slips a befitting slipper on her foot for this is the only way to keep her in Siit. Or else the lonlinesss might creep into the depths of her soul and snatch away her life.

O, goodness! What is she up to now?

One-two-three go

One-two-three go

One-two-three go

One-two

One-two

Slide

One-two-three go

One-two-three…

O my! There is no limit to this humans capabilities.

In the regional hall, she has got all the Siitians doing the…the…the..

ELECTRIC SLIDE!

She plugs the selfie machine into the PA system of hall and it produces something. Wow, it that the famous human music?
 
It may be tradition for the people of the first dimension to dance on their wedding day, but here in Siit, it is unheard of!

Then again looking at how the look of wonder on the faces of my fellow Siitians turns to delight and then to ecstasy, I know her magic wand has done its magic again.

O, now she’s teaching them the azonto. There is just no limit to this humans capabilities to infect people with her free spirit.

"Silence!"

The regional chief booms. Everybody freezes.
 
(For the record, I roll my eyes.)

"This is no way for Siitians to act! This is just uncivilly! Who taught you this?"

As the all-knowing sage I can tell for certain that everbody wishes that the ground would just open up and swallow them.

"I did!" Dede steps forward.
 
(Obviously, all but one had that wish.) 

"What are you?" He notices her dark skin.

For whatever record, all Siitians may just as well be described as transparent.

"I am human. My name is Dede."

Everyone gasps. No one dares speaks back to the chief. EVER!

"How brave!" Then he commands, "Get me a glass slipper!"

Her caretakers are shoved forward and handed a price for taking care of the human.

"And what if I don’t want your glass slipper?", Dede asks.

Silence. Ultimate silence deafens the hall.

Remember when I said dancing was unheard of? I take that back.

REJECTING A GLASS SLIPPER IS…IS… SACRILEGE.

"Then you will be passed up!"

The chief says cooly.

There is a uniform gasp of horror in the hall. There hasn't been a pass-up in almost a century.

O no, no, no, no… DEDE IS DOOMED!