![]() ![]() “There’s nothing to talk about,” I answered, putting the finishing touches on my new story, “Polka Dot and the Cranky Fairy Godmother.” “I don’t want glasses. “Could you please stop writing in the car and talk to me?” Mom asked, flicking the turn signal and heading into the left lane. ![]() “Get yourself some glasses and stop pestering me.” “I’m on a coffee break, kid,” said the fairy godmother. Sweet naive Polka Dot, no one ever told her some fairy godmothers have ginormous attitude issues. So when Polka Dot spotted a fairy godmother resting on a park bench, she kept her wish simple and begged for better eyesight. Poor Polka Dot felt like a total weirdo, and always wished a fairy godmother would appear and cut her some slack.īut that was just too darn bad, because fairy godmothers only care about beautiful girls with wicked stepmothers. ![]() Everyone laughed at her and called her Polka Dot. Once there was a girl with hair the color of dead leaves, teeth the size of piano keys, freckles as big as polka dots, and eyes that couldn’t see squat. ![]()
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