Miss Jo's San Francisco

IF IT’S HALLOWEEN IT’S TIME TO ONCE AGAIN RECITE “PRINDERELLA AND THE CINCE,” as Miss Jo’s dad, Frank, liked to do.

The fairytale is told in spoonerisms— words and phrases where letters or syllables are switched— and was such a Frank favorite that after he died Miss Jo found 20 copies in his files. She can still hear him laughing over the part when Prinderella “slopped her dripper” (Cinderella dropped her slipper).

It’s pure cornball humor, appealing to Frank’s secret silly side, like after he retired when he printed business cards that gave him an inexplicable new identity of “Blimp Washer.”

By an unknown author, Prinderella is best read aloud.

And on this Halloween, wherever you are in the world, at the moke of stridnight may your hinsome prance comed and you live afterly ever happyward.

PRINDERELLA

Tonce upon a wime there was a gretty little pirl named Prinderella. Prinderella lived with her two sisty uglers and a micked wepstother, and she was very unhappy because they made her wean the clindows, flub the scroors, and pine the shots and shans.

One day the pring issued a koclamation that all gelligible irls were invited to attend a drancy fess ball. Now this made the sisty uglers and the micked wepstother very happy; but, alas, poor Prinderella couldn’t go to the drancy fess ball because all she had was a rirty drag; so she cat down and sied.

All of a sudden, her mairy fodgother appeared. “Why, Prinderella,” said the mairy fodgother, “matever is the whatter?” “Oh mairy fodgother,” said Prinderella, “I can’t go to the drancy fess ball because all I have is a rirty drag.”

“You shall bo to the gall!” said the mairy fodgother, and in the eyeling of a twink she changed a cumpkin into a parriage, and a rirty drag into a drancy fess. There stood Prinderella, all covered with pubies and rearls.

Off Prinderella went to the ball with one warning; she must be home by the moke of stridnight. All night, Prinderella danced with the cince, but at the moke of stridnight, she raced down the stalace peps and on the stottom bep she slopped her dripper!

The next day, the pring issued another koclamation that all gelligible irls should sly on the tripper. The sisty uglers slied on the tripper, but it fidn’t dit.

Prinderella said, “Let me sly on the tripper,” and it fid dit!

Well, Prinderella and the cince were married that very dame say, and they lived afterly ever happyward. But, alas, the sisty uglers and the micked wepstother were left alone to hean the clouse all by themselves. Now wasn’t that a shirty dame?

Photo of Glen Park pumpkins and San Francisco calavera candles by Miss Jo; Photo of Cookie Monster and Oscar the Grouch, by Moo.