A/N: (And I really need one) No, I do not hate the book. Idea just popped into my head in the way of popcorn or similar and the words sort of arranged themselves.
disclaimer: I do not own Ella Enchanted, any of the characters in it they are property of er- Harper Collins I do believe. The Newberry Medal is owned by someone else, I forget who. This work is a figment of my *imagination* and in no way, shape or form am I being paid for this except in the non monetary way of reviews, if any recieved.
I hate that book.
Yes, I hate it.
I hate it so much I hate myself in it.
That cannot be me.
I am Ella. But what that sorry excuse for a book, what is really just abused trees and wood pulp and mashed fibers and black ink arranged in such a way, depicts me as,
I hate.
I hate the author, the damned publisher, the whimpering wench that is poor excuses for bravery that runs and runs through my mind and puffing and running along the stream of conciousness, that under that 2 dimensional character that never made Charmont laugh; his laughs in that thing are stilted, they are fake, they are the product of words strung together in sentences, into paragraphs, they do no capture the laugh.
This Cinderella idea is in the dictionary, poor idea that was. Describing me as a female heroine as in that of fairy tales that goes from rags to riches. I have seen those useless, dreamy, romantic, copies in the bookstore, I can see those authors that try to portray me, try to get the reader to
sympathize with me.
What a laugh.
What a hoot.
What a jest
that is.
Did you cry when Charmont read my letter?
How sad of you to have fallen for such nonsense. The fans of that book are weak hearted girls filled with this strange thing they call teen angst, ones that dream of something called
true love.
And why do they bother?
Love is only a state of mind, only, only, only. It is only another emotion, wretched emotion that makes you kill and cry and weep and get all depressed in Hell's fires one that no fairy can conjure, this hurt.
Love is just a sound you make with your mouth when your tounge brushes across your top teeth.
And this silver thing they put on the front, the Newberry Medal honor? What is this for? The most horrible misleading piece of work in children's literature?
Fools, fools, fools, all of you.
Everytime I see that book's cover, it makes me want to scratch myself, to get rid of that horrible itch... That smiling face on that cover, take a look at it again. That is not me.
That is not me.
That is not me.
That is not me.
Get that in your head.
Because when you really see my picture,
be ready to see a lifeless waif
that had a lucky break with the prince.
--finis--
Hmm. Rather controversial, is it not, cherie? Just though it would be fun to be unconventional. ^_^ I DO NOT FEEL THIS WAY ABOUT THE BOOK. Just to clear things up.
Also, I now have a website- http://expage.com/angst . You can copy that and put it in the erm- thing to go there. I would love it if you would give me permission to link your profile and a few fics. Say so in the review... ^_^
disclaimer: I do not own Ella Enchanted, any of the characters in it they are property of er- Harper Collins I do believe. The Newberry Medal is owned by someone else, I forget who. This work is a figment of my *imagination* and in no way, shape or form am I being paid for this except in the non monetary way of reviews, if any recieved.
I hate that book.
Yes, I hate it.
I hate it so much I hate myself in it.
That cannot be me.
I am Ella. But what that sorry excuse for a book, what is really just abused trees and wood pulp and mashed fibers and black ink arranged in such a way, depicts me as,
I hate.
I hate the author, the damned publisher, the whimpering wench that is poor excuses for bravery that runs and runs through my mind and puffing and running along the stream of conciousness, that under that 2 dimensional character that never made Charmont laugh; his laughs in that thing are stilted, they are fake, they are the product of words strung together in sentences, into paragraphs, they do no capture the laugh.
This Cinderella idea is in the dictionary, poor idea that was. Describing me as a female heroine as in that of fairy tales that goes from rags to riches. I have seen those useless, dreamy, romantic, copies in the bookstore, I can see those authors that try to portray me, try to get the reader to
sympathize with me.
What a laugh.
What a hoot.
What a jest
that is.
Did you cry when Charmont read my letter?
How sad of you to have fallen for such nonsense. The fans of that book are weak hearted girls filled with this strange thing they call teen angst, ones that dream of something called
true love.
And why do they bother?
Love is only a state of mind, only, only, only. It is only another emotion, wretched emotion that makes you kill and cry and weep and get all depressed in Hell's fires one that no fairy can conjure, this hurt.
Love is just a sound you make with your mouth when your tounge brushes across your top teeth.
And this silver thing they put on the front, the Newberry Medal honor? What is this for? The most horrible misleading piece of work in children's literature?
Fools, fools, fools, all of you.
Everytime I see that book's cover, it makes me want to scratch myself, to get rid of that horrible itch... That smiling face on that cover, take a look at it again. That is not me.
That is not me.
That is not me.
That is not me.
Get that in your head.
Because when you really see my picture,
be ready to see a lifeless waif
that had a lucky break with the prince.
--finis--
Hmm. Rather controversial, is it not, cherie? Just though it would be fun to be unconventional. ^_^ I DO NOT FEEL THIS WAY ABOUT THE BOOK. Just to clear things up.
Also, I now have a website- http://expage.com/angst . You can copy that and put it in the erm- thing to go there. I would love it if you would give me permission to link your profile and a few fics. Say so in the review... ^_^