Let me tell you a story.
It's a story of a girl who was going to a ball.
The fairy godmother had created the most beautiful costume in the kingdom. The magic was firmly in place. All was good for the little maid who was about to embark upon the most magical night of her life.
She waited eagerly for the magical coach to arrive that would carry her to the ball, which was scheduled to start at 10:30 p.m. and carry on well into the morning.
She waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
10:00 came and went.
10:30 passed without as much as a by-your-leave.
11:00, 11:30....
Then the coach driver called.
He was on his way to fetch the maid.
But she knew in her heart that it would be too late, for the coach driver, while well-meaning, had a poor memory, and she suspected that he did not know how to get to the ball.
And she was right.
He picked her up and was carrying her to the ball (while asking the girl for directions she didn't have) when she looked at the clock.
11:56.
There was no way they would make it before the magic wore off and the princess returned to being a poor, dirty maid.
Absolutely no way.
It was hopeless.
She told this to the coach driver.
He, agreeing, turned around and took the maid home.
They reached home just as the magical hour tolled, signaling unbridled joy for the attendees of balls across the nation, but only misery and tears for the poor maid.
And tears there were, though she told herself not to cry. The reason for the ball would still be there in the morning, though the initial festivities had ended.
The next morning she awoke to more misery. She had forgotten that there would be other celebrations throughout the day, celebrations that she would have to miss, for all the people with coach-driving licenses had other tasks and would be gone all day.
She was alone with her sorrow, with nothing but a keyboard to keep her company.
~*~*~
And that's why I’m on the internet, instead of reading my copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
A/N: This was originally a message I sent my friend on myspace. The well-meaning coach driver is my wonderful older brother and fellow Potter fan. The “ball” was held at my local library, where I would have picked up my reserved copy. The saddest part was when I realized that no one would miss me at the release party. To them, I’d just be a lackluster fan that couldn’t be bothered to pick up my copy at midnight with the rest of them. (Weeps.) Only review if this has ever happened to you.
A/N p.2
I take that last bit back. Reviews! I need reviews!