Monday, New Continent of Atlantis

That happened yesterday. Today is Monday, the second day of the holiday due to

Atlantis rising and

the Crown Prince being found.

I am in Lia's room, she sprawling on a beanbag (I think Atlanteans call it sandbag, as it's actually made of sand. Not that beanbags are made of beans), me lying on my stomach on the floor.

"So what do you think, we finished the first two entries!" she said.

"Yeah," I said, "do you want to do something else?"

"Like what? I'm the sort who wants to finish something once I started it. Plus, this is our autobiography," Lia lamented.

"How about we each show something we wrote to the other? Like, I have no idea what your writing style is, and vice versa," I suggested.

Lia's eyes sparkled. "That's so COOL!" she agreed. Last night, she had bugged me to teach her all the slangs and expressions of modern America. But as I'm not exactly a Jock, I couldn't come up with many. I only know of "cool", "duh", and stuff like that. And I had bugged Pollo so much that he finally agreed to find some quarters in the Royal Palace for Lia to stay in.

I said, "Maybe you'd want to see my version of Snow White?"

Lia said, "If you want to see my version of Cinderella."

Cin de Rella

Cin de Rella was abandoned at the orphanage, not because she's an orphan. Well, her father's still alive, anyway. It's that her stepmother, tired of seeing such a beautiful face, decided to sent her somewhere else so that her own ordinary-looking daughters would not feel so depressed.

Cin, whose real name is Cindy, works as a maid in the orphanage. Still, even though dressed in rags, she looked gorgeous.

At the annual ball, commenced by the Prince, her stepsisters are going there to dance. But Cin is only allowed to clean spilt food and drinks, or so she thinks.

The other beauty of the school, Lavinia, was jealous of Cindy. Having heard the story of Cinderella, she decided to swap places with Cindy for the evening, reckoning that the Prince was sure to notice her if she looked like Cinderella, beauty shining through the dirt-stained

faced. So in the end, Cinderella, dressed in an ordinary hoop skirt with the least amount of make-up and jewellery, was attending the ball; while Lavinia was dressed in the most tasteful rags, ripped jeans showing her tanned legs and colourful patchwork shirt, low in cleavage.

Now, the Prince had spilt some fruit punch. He asked Lavinia to help him clear it up, showing no other interest in her. Lavinia, who has never mopped anything before, does not know how to.

"And where is the bathroom?" The frustrated Prince demanded, as he had spilt fruit punch all down his shirt too. Lavinia, who had no idea where the toilet was, was at a loss.

Then Cindy spotted the bedraggled Prince. She didn't recognize him, as she had never met the prince before. However, being polite, she snatched the mop from Lavinia's hands and deftly cleared the mess. "If you're looking for the bathroom, Sire," she said, eyeing the stain on his fancy doublet, "It's over there. I'll show you."

So she took the Prince to the bathroom. The prince was a practical person. Being under time constraints to pick a wife soon, he wanted a practical wife, but pleasant looking. Imagine his pleasure at finding Cindy, both practical and pretty!

"If you'll excuse me, ma'am, what is the size of your fourth finger?" He asked.

"Hmm," Cindy thought. Nobody had ever asked her such a question before. She took out some string from her pocket (she always had some string available) and measured. "One and a half inch," she announced.

Lavinia, who had the ring at the door, was anxious. What if the Prince decided to make her a ring only she could wear? Besides, only her fingers were that small! So she came up with a plan.

After the ball, Lavinia ordered Cindy to clean up the place. "With strawberry scented detergent," she added. The thing is, Lavinia had learnt that Cindy is allergic to detergent, especially strawberry scented ones. Cindy was flabbergasted. Being allergic to detergent, she had never learnt how to use them.

"How do you use them?" she asked. Lavinia sighed. At least she had seen her maid in action. She purposely squeezed some into her bare hands before using her hand to wet the sponge. But she had no idea how that she was allergic to detergents too, having never used them before!

In seconds, Lavinia's fingers swelled into fat bacon sausages. 'Clean this up!" she squealed angrily and was out of the room. Puzzled, Cindy continued to clean using detergent, but wearing the gloves that accompanied the hoop skirt.

A week later, when the Prince came out of his limousine, he asked for the "pretty blonde girl with blue eyes". Of course, Cindy and

Lavinia. Lavinia's fingers still hadn't recovered, and she was trying to explain to the Prince about it. Cindy was just shocked that the Prince was actually that guy she escorted to the toilet!

So of course Cin de Rella lived happily ever after with her Prince: Cinderellas always do!

THE END

Haha! Lia sure is funny. "Lia, that's really good!" I said. Lia looked pleased.

"So are you going to read mine now?" I asked.

"Sure!" Lia said.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. I asked irritatedly, "Come in!"

Pollo came in, bowing. "Your Highness, the Prince Regent grants an audience from you."

I sighed. What can the Evil Uncle want now? "Only if Lia comes as well." I demanded.

"But, Sire…"

"No buts!"

Pollo looked confused. "What does having no butts got to do with—"

God, it's a slang! In any case, me and Lia just barrelled into the Royal Conference Room. Roy looked up irritatedly.

"Michael, what is this girl doing here?"

"She is my royal secretary. I've heard that Kings had Secretaries?" I said.

Roy just glared at Lia impatiently. "Well, whatever. In any case, Sire, you will be attending the Schoolhouse next week. And you will be living there the whole year, except for the holidays."

What a good way for getting rid of me.

"I'll go, and Lia too. She'll be my secretary."

Roy sighed impatiently. "That's not all. Today, I'll be giving you a Royal Steed. Come, boy, to the stables."

A horse? I mean, for goodness sake, a horse? I'm living in the twenty-first century, and you gave me a horse?

Lia must have noticed my face, since she whispered, "Not a horse, dude. Atlantean technology advanced from horses centuries ago. It's an automobile. You'll see."

The Royal Stables was something like a garage. Inside stood the most magnificent 'bike' I've ever seen. It's one-seated, with this really advanced map area, which shows the exact position I am in Atlantis, and you can focus until you can see he minutest detail.

"This steed is on of a kind, Michael. It can fly, and speed over

water. It's powered by kinetic and solar energy. The faster you go, the more energy you have. It has strong propellers, like, what do you call them, helicopters?, and it skims over water, like—

—speedboats, and moves over land over hundred miles an hour. But mostly I'll be using air. And soon, he told me, the air will be full of this kind of automobiles, and there will be no need for land travel.

"And now, to your studies." Roy said.

"Oh, Aurelia can teach me. She's very smart." I said quickly.

"Whatever you want, Camilla can teach you. But Mitchell's going to teach you how to play sports. You will be representing us in the Olympics."

Hello? Olympics? I'm a nerd! A five-foot-two nerd! With thick glasses and knocking knees! Who said anything about me going to Olympics?

"That's why Mitchell is going to train you. He'll be your personal coach. To make you a man."

What if this is a plot to kill me? Death from excess exercise causing cardio-pulmory recessive attack?