"The Answer Is Yes" -- tin collage by my mother, Emily Allison.

I found something the other day. Two yellowed, type-written pages tucked away in the back of a closet in my grandmother’s home: a story she used to read at family gatherings called “Rindercella.” I don’t know where she got it or when it first tickled her fancy but I remember laughing every time she performed (and really, it was a performance–how could it not be with so many grandchildren piled about) it for us.

Forgive me for not being able to site its original author. For all I know she copied it out of the Farmer’s Almanac fifty years ago. Regardless, I think Mamaw would love that I’m sharing this with you. And I hope it brings a bit of laughter your way.

Without further ado, I give you “Rindercella:”

Once upon a time in a coreign funtry,

There lived a geautiful birl and her name was Rindercella.

Now Rindercella lived with her mugly other and two sad blisters.

Also in this same coreign funtry, there lived a very prandsome hince.

And this prandsome hince was gonna have a bancy fall, and he invited all the people for riles amound.

Especially the pich reople.

Now Rindercella’s mugly other and two sad blisters went out to buy some drancy fresses to wear to this bancy fall, but Rindercella couldn’t go.

Because all she had to wear was some old rirty dags.

Finally the night of the bancy fall arrived and Rindercella couldn’t go so she just cat down and scried.

But she was kitten there a scryin’ when all at once there appeared before her a Gairy Mudfather.

And he touched her with his wagic mand, and there appeared before her a kig boach and hix white sorses to take her to the bancy fall.

But he said , “Now Rindercella, be sure to be home before nidmight, or I’ll purn you into a tumpkin.”

When Rindercella arrived at the bancy fall the prandsome hince met her at the door because he’d been watching behind a widden hindow.

Rindercella and the prandsome hince nanced all dight.

Until nidmight, and they lell in fove.

And finally the  mid clock strucknight, and Rindercella staced down the rairs, and just as she beached the rottom, she slopped her dripper.

The next day the prandsome hince went all over this coreign funtry, looking for the geautiful birl who had slopped her dripper.

Finally he came to Rindercella’s house.

And he tried it on her mugly other and it fidn’t dit.

Then he tried it on her two sad blisters and it fidn’t dit.

Then he tried it on Rindercella and it fid dit!

It was exactly the sight rize.

So they were married and lived heavily after hapwards.

Now the storal of the mory is this: if you go to a bancy fall and you want to have the prandsome hince lall in fove with you, don’t forget to slop your dripper!