Chapter One - The lottery, the first date, and the search for a princess

I walked in and the first number I rehearsed with the cast of Cinderella was The Prince is Giving a Ball, and I thought the highlight was going to be enjoying how the seam of the rehearsal room mirror distorted my image, but then Choreographer 1 delivered an instruction that really got to me. He said we should react as though we had just won the lottery.

Well. I had a dream in which I did just that. I won the lottery!
But immediately there were issues.
My phone started ringing off the hook.
My long lost (or never known) relatives started wanting to get reacquainted.
My long lost (or never known) friends started getting really friendly.
My mailbox started overflowing with pleas for donation, business propositions, great investment ideas.
My email started filling with requests for conversation with Katrina Wetnwild. (Wait a minute - that's happening anyway.) I immediately took action (no I did not contact Katrina Wetnwild) and resigned from my job as a bovine dung analyst, and tried to get on top of some of my new responsibilities.
The main new responsibility, of course, was financial management. I knew I had to hire somebody to manage my money, but you can't trust just anybody with millions of dollars. I chose badly. I chose Dewey, Fleecem, and Howe. I lost everything.
Fortunately, at this point I awakened and, well, I still have no money. But it is more of a chronic condition rather than an acute one, so I guess it's, uh, OK.

So. If I look less than ecstatic after hearing that the Prince is Giving a Ball, it is because I am imagining winning the lottery. I am, however, reconsidering about Katrina Wetnwild.

And what about that first Cinderella-Prince dance? It is thoughtfully choreographed, and beautifully executed by Cindy 1 and Prince 1, but here's the thing. When I first meet a chick for ballroom dancing as a rule we don't usually get into the lifting and leaping and all that right away. What would be left for the second date? Although, typically I can't remember ever having a second consecutive ballroom dancing date. Or, come to think of it, a second date of any sort. I've always been under the impression that chicks like to start out a little slower. Could this be why I am not a prince? Could this be why chicks don't dig me?

And the glass slipper that A1 leaves behind appears to be something like a size - I don't know - 10?. And although they searched far and wide (perhaps a poor choice of words), there was no chick in the the entire kingdom whose foot the slipper would fit. Seriously? You gotta be kidding me.