FicWad

Fairy Tales are not silly stories meant for the amusement of children, they are a portal to a vast universe filled with imagination, for which some sadly have naught. The bitter, disgruntled misanthropes who's dreams were crushed long ago, blame fairytales for ruining their childhood instead of taking accountability. Childhood is never truly lost but innocence is. One must only seek the light to break free from insanity. The penurious lost souls who wandered aimlessly Into the Woods only to discover a world gone mad. Knowledge is knowing but is not essential wisdom. Inherent wisdom like common sense does not always come with age, but is bestowed upon a select few with the foresight to perceive what the naked eye cannot. Look not with tainted eyes but with an open mind and honest heart, to find the hidden gem within. Slap on a pair of La Vie en Rose-colored glasses and watch the enchantment unfurl from your disenchanted blinders. "You can't depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus." – Mark Twain. Fables are not fops but fanciful fantasies of faith. Believe in failure but a dream is not just a wish your heart makes, it's to flee grief and heartache so your rainbow will come smiling through. A legend is not a lie but a more optimistic POV in a cynical society. You don't have to believe in a happy ending but can choose to be happy with what you've got. Like The Little Prince or A Little Princess. The prince searched far and wide for more but ended with dearth less. Despite having everything taken away from poor Sara, now in tattered threads, she still managed to behave like a reale princess should. With only her imagination to keep her warm during the chilly nights. A princess is not just a title, a tiara, gold threads and jewels. The true mark of a sovereign is in treating others with kindness and respect, no matter their station. Be thankful for what you have; you'll end up having more. Stop blaming and believe in yourself, knowing full well that a better, brighter world exists beyond the mortal realm. The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Salagadoola mechicka boola. Put them together and what have you got? Gibberish drizzle for the kiddies when you fail to properly enunciate what your accurately feeling inside. "Whatever you are, be a good one." Magic is believing in yourself. "All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them" – Walt Disney.

Carlos is a masculine name with Spanish and English origins. A variant of the name Charles, this name means "free man" or "valiant." The freedom to do what you love, fight for what you believe, and be with the people that mean the most to you is such a vital thing. D'Artagnan was one brave guy that Carlos really looked up to. The Director or Administrator of an orphanage, Christopher Robin Crusoe, found infant Carlos dropped off, wrapped in wrinkled old rags, like discarded garment in a Prada Shopping Bag in front of the home. All the Director saw in pitch black was a glossy car zigzag zipping away. So naturally he named him Carlos! Carlos never knew that his mother was the infamous fashion magnate Cruella de Vil. He grew up in The Lost Boys orphanage not far from London. His only real friend was a beautiful boy named Peter, a free-spirited and mischievous adventurer, who loved tinkering belligerently. In a Panic he refused to grow old and get stuck there forever. So he ran as far away from there as humanly possible. It felt more like he flew away, Neverland to return to Darling Carlos. "My heart is set, as firmly as ever heart of man was set on woman. I have no thought, no view, no hope, in life beyond her; and if you oppose me in this great stake, you take my peace and happiness in your hands, and cast them to the wind." Carlos was lost, but eventually would find his way to a more caring crew. He was boisterous, cool and cunning. He was a very gifted young lad. Studious and skilled in a lot of ways. He knew parkour, he could skateboard and ride a bike. He could knit and sew and was very adept at anything technological. A vital, virile, virtuoso. Needless to say, he was in fact ingenious. He was nimble, he was quick as the wind and jumped over hurdles like a fastidious candle maker. He also had his mothers bright green eyes and very distinctive hair caused by poliosis, a disease that causes a decrease or absence of melanin in head hair, eyebrows, eyelashes, or any other hairy area. Unlike some people, Carlos was never teased for it. In fact everyone thought it was pretty cool! In leathers and shorts with a red sash that tied around his waist and a small leather bag that laid against his right hip. Accompanied with a pair of dark red boots and a pair of red fingerless gloves. Shortly he bid adieu to the hostel and randoms Laurie and Frieda. But never having even step foot in a college was not cool. No one took him seriously. Education is not an institution of braggarts but can be found everywhere. Society and their silly socioeconomic rules. Doubt is what gets you an education. Just ask John D. Rockefeller, Henry Ford and Anna Wintour. The greatest obstacle to discovery is not ignorance; it is the illusion of knowledge. "Wisdom makes you the smartest person in the room, no matter how uneducated you are." The child prodigy had to make ends meet. By working retail. To depart is farewell, but to be accepted is welcoming. Elementary, said he.

In Liberty of London department store in Soho he sold shoes and clothes. Measuring feet for a living wasn't exactly what Carlos had in mind for work. But he made peace with it. Surrounded by gadgets and gizmos galore. C'est fromage! Things Carlos thought of for fun but fashion wasn't all that important to him, despite always looking majestic. But they were all part of his future. It was only temporary until he found something better. Better late than never soon arrived in the form of a talent scout. Carlos was just fooling around, breakdancing in his fancy footwear, passing the time when someone notices him. He introduces himself and hands him his card. "My name is Charlie Fletcher, I work for Bunk'd Entertainment." He tells Carlos to go to this audition to be in the next boy band. Carlos at first is a little skeptical. He's received looks like that before from strange men. Offering some kind of job. But turns out to be a scam. Carlos knew he was cute, of a reasonable height and immensely gifted. But more often than not he usually ends up with the weirdos. He checked the card that was handed to him, as soon as the guy left, and fact checked to make sure he was legit. It was, so off he went, without speaking with, Gerald, his mean-spirited store manager boss at the department store. An attractive man, resembling a Butchy Ross Lynch, let's Carlos hop on his motorbike. They sped off past Regent's Park and Primrose Hill and the King William Court Fountain. To escape monotony is a choice not a chance everyone gets to experience.

The New Kids Boyzone auditions, were held at a Backstreet Westlife on the Block in O-Town. It was 98 Degrees BTS when hundreds, maybe thousands of potential applicants came from all across the globe in search of fame and fortune. They all seemed capable and Hanson Boyz II Men. With looks, charisma and swagger. But Carlos was undoubtedly the most talented of the undead Vamps, in addition to being effortlessly chic. An idiosyncratic joie de vivre Zoolander with moves like Baryshnikov and JCVD. So it came as no surprise when he got called back. They narrowed them down to Five saucy seconds of singles. Then finally four. Harry hooked his way to peoples hearts, Chad charmed the crowd and Jay jived. Harry's beaming with pride parents were in full bolster mode for their hotter than Harry Styles in the making. The Captain James Killian Jones & wife 'Tiger Lily' Tennille, were cheering and jeering at the LFO Monkees and Village People. The Captain owns a luxury cruise liner called the Jolly Roger, where his wife performs regularly her popular Tiger Lily dance number. The Captain is also famous for being a TikTok influencer, wearing Crocs and having a mean right hook arm. They were accompanied by the Capt. hooky but loyal first mate, the stripy Sam Smiegel shortened to Smee. "O Captain! My Captain!" Smee squeezes tightly his two tantalizing twins who were squeaky and squirmy for not making the cut. Their enchanting mother Elizabeth Keira Swann fell for blooming blacksmith William Turner Jr. and married him, they had a son Henry Turner who is quite the dark Knightley-wing head-turner living in Orlando. Liz & Smee have joint custody. Harry, Chad and Jay, together with Carlos were N Sync and Joined-as Brothers, so the management team went in One Direction and selected them as the newest members of the group. They couldn't decide on a name for the band though. Then Chad who was eating a gumdrop, spots a tiny Brussels Griffin puppy in the street playing with dung Beatles, and it spoke to him. Da Bomb dropped the truth. "Why not RUNT?" Carlos: Do you realize that that could also mean an undersized or weak person? "Reality Bites Dude!" But the producers loved it so they just went with it. So Runt was soon ready to Take That, doing mall showings, opening acts and eventually touring the globe. It was a Big Time Rush! Singing songs such as 'Set It Off, If Only, Believe, Night Is Young, It's Goin' Down, Kiss The Girl, Better Together, Rather Be With You, What's My Name, Space Between, You and Me, Do What You Gotta Do, One Kiss, Break This Down, Night Falls, Dig a Little Deeper and Feeling The Love.' But like most boy bands the group would soon fizzle-out. But not without its merits. Cocky Chad was the first one to leave, citing a solo career and dating a popstar named Audrey. Handsome Harry soon followed suit, signing with another record label called 'Ally of Uma.' His boss Uma is a Rebel With a Cause. Uma's single mother Ursula was a sad, insecure lardy, who was constantly on a diet. Ursula was a former deep diver who ran away with another woman, Beatrice Stanhope, and the sea bitch left poor Uma and her pet moray eels to fend for themselves. Uma's father, John Derek, was a Svengali who died of congestive heart failure while making whoopee with a 16-year-old Bo Peep. Uma swam straight to the finish line and built her very own record label, with her own blood, sweat, and tears. Grabbing the best talents like tentacles. As she rose from the depths of the ocean, to rise anew, glistening from the glorious sunshine, to become Part of Your World. Lose hope, lose heart, but never lose faith.

But jocky Jacob or Jay was Carlos' staunchest supporter. The two bonded like brothers. Jay was clearly the bigger dude. He had the muscles to prove it. Jay was skilled at parkour as well. And had very flexible Bruce Lee martial arts skills due to his dad Jare (pronounced "Jah-reh") who taught him everything he knew. Sadly Jay lost his dad during a hike while mountain climbing, he gets startled by an explosion from afar and falls into a sand-filled cave with jagged ceilings and venomous snakes. Jare Jobrani wished to be found and for his treasured Jasmine and Jay to find solace with true love. Jay's mother Jasmine was an emotional wreck. She just closed herself off completely and Jay couldn't get her to open up. First thing he did was get rid of Jare's annoying foul-mouthed pet parrot Iago! So Jafar-away Iago went. Jare used to Ja-Rule for Jasmine's father Hamed, the oil sultan, as his most trusted and loyal fitness and financial guru. Then refined and regal Jasmine was wide open-ing with the sudden appearance of a handsome lad named Ali during Jare's funeral. Ali was a former pupil of Jare's. Jare helped Ali off the streets and got him a job as an agricultural aid. Ali was truly a Diamond In The Rough. Abu, Ali's sticky fingers pet monkey, sneakily steals Jasmine's beloved bracelet that belonged to her mother. Jay hastily caught up with the thief who Baghdad that bejeweled bracelet and halted his monkey business. Jasmine stopped dead in her tracks as soon as she locked eyes with Ali and fell into the depths of desire that would inevitably be sealed with an unwavering kiss. Abu watched as the magic manifested between Ali and Jasmine. It was like she was dreaming, an indescribable feeling but crystal clear as sparks flew in a shining, shimmering splendid and set ablaze a fiery passion inside like a shooting star or a magic carpet ride, soaring, tumbling, freewheeling through an endless diamond sky, ready to share a wonderful whole new world. Ali grabbed Jasmine's attention and opened her eyes with his winning smile, a cavernous cavity of wonders and together with his Mojo Jojo. Not to mention winning Jasmine's undecided heart and dates while winning the lottery. Jay looked on in disgust at the devoted duo who were indirect disregard PDA and distasteful and disrespectful to his dad. Ali felt way up here and hit the jackpot with Jasmine. But where to go? A hundred thousand things to see with new horizons to pursue and no one to tell us no. Like the sandy beaches of Belize, Bermuda and Bora Bora. As he swept Jasmine off to unbelievable sights and a dazzling and wondrous place they never knew, Baden-Baden, the two halves enjoyed an exciting, exhilarating rest and relaxation retreat in the Golden Scarab Inn, sharing a Gen Z gin cocktail in jeans and a look of ecstasy and then some. In return Jasmine shows Ali her menagerie of exotic animals, such as her pet Bengal tiger Rajah. Rajah is friendly and docile with Ali. As Jasmine led a thrilling chase through the gardens, with Rajah chasing them anywhere. They've both come so far and can't go back to where they used to be. They both shared a new fantastic point of view as they purchased a deserted rundown antique store that sold a treasure trove of hidden artifacts. A vast collection of tchotchkes, dusty old carpets and antique lamp shades. They spruced it up and decided to call it BLUE JASMINE. For Ali loved the blues and especially the stolen heart apple of his eye Jasmine. But he had no time to spare or clue what to do with juvenile Jay. He tried his very best but his best just wasn't good enough. He was a decent stepdad but jaded Jay was being difficult and stubborn. He refused to accept Ali as his new dad. That's where they'll be. Jay felt like a third wheel so he eventually opted to leave the nest and branch out on his own. He's been living by himself all these years and refused financial support from his new lovesick, unbearable family. Now he finally has a little brother to talk to. Friendship sometimes unexpectedly appears with a kick from an unlikely source. Battles are fought and some may lose, but finding a friend is a war won. The true testament of triumph from the real prized trophy is a treat to beholden.

During one of their luncheons with potential clients at Daisy's Diner, tucked inside the rolling & unpredictable hills of town is a place to grab some pizza & take a break from all the lunacy, Carlos accidentally bumps into a very lovely sweet girl with blue hair in a meet cute moment of immobility. It was WTF at first bite. But she only thought of him like a little brother. Her name is Evelyn or Evie. Effervescent Evie is an aspiring fashion designer. She and her mother used to be in the inner circle. Hobnobbing with the rich and famous. But suffered a falling out when Evie's father was arrested for fraud, embezzlement and tax evasion. They soon fled to the slums where no one would recognize them. Evie found her chica in these very corners. A West Side Storied New Yorkshire La La Gangland, On The Town Of Fleet Street. Another equally pretty girl named Mallorie or Mal Bertha with purple hair was painting the town plum. Mal's mother is schizophrenic and incarcerated. And her dad abandoned them when she was little. Like Jay, Mal's been doing things on her own. Evie found Mal spray painting her graffiti art on a wall. Mal was a naturally gifted artiste. And shortly her creations would be hanging up in walls in prestigious art galleries. This is where Mal finds her future boyfriend Benjamin or Ben Florian. Ben is an art connoisseur and comes from old money. His parents Adam and Belle are the cream of the crop of high society and have been married for more than twenty years. Theirs is a tale as old as time. Egocentric, handsome, aloof and adroit Adam is tall with long windswept, romance novel, auburn hair, soft cream colored skin and bright blue eyes. Built like a brick wall with lumberjack arms that could pulverize Dan Stevens into Even Stevens. Avarice in affluence. The past does not define us forever. Belle on the other hand is a beauty inside and out with brains to boot. With long brown hair, captivating hazel eyes, full lips, rosy cheeks, and a sculpted figure. During a downpour Adam with his then shorty, seek refuge in a dingy old bookstore called 'BELLE, BOOK and CANDLE' in Greenwich. Bookworm Belle owns the little bookshop together with her widowed, cuckoo clock maker, father Maurice. Belle always believed herself to be a Hermione warming up to a Weasley. A Betty joking with a jester Jughead. But never conceived finding The Suite Life with an Adonis Archie instead. Love is found in the most unlikely places. Adam was challenged in more ways than one. He was bewitched, bothered and bewildered with Belle. Don't let your fears get in the way of new experiences. He was accustomed to being surrounded by a bevy of vapid, vacuous, vixens. Life begins where our comfort zone ends. Adam's Veronica instantly faded into obscurity as soon as Belle melted and mended his ravaged heart. Barely even friends but then just a little change, unexpectedly surprises that neither one was prepared for. It's strange finding you can change and learning you were wrong. Let love in and it will forever change you. And the rest as they say is history. "vincit qui se vincit" (lit. "He Conquers Who Conquers Himself"). Your biggest enemy is sometimes yourself. We all need a guiding light. A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness; but still will keep a bower quiet for us, and a sleep full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. Carlos, Jay, Mal and Evie all shared a common thread. Their fondness for art, music, dance, fashion and culture. And together they would all make a band of brothers and sisters. A brethren and sisterhood of the travelling pedigree. The ties that bind can never truly be broken. A friendship forged in the fires of adversity is as strong as one that has weathered the test of time.

At a lavish soiree set in the beautiful countryside, Adam & Belle's breathtaking castle, the great Chateau la Bete, Ben makes a speech and calls on Mal. B: Mal, I feel like I've known you my whole life. But did I mention I'm in love with you? M: Ridiculous! B: I met this girl that rocked my world, Like it's never been rocked. And now I'm living just for her, and I won't ever stop. I never thought that it could happen to a guy like me, But now look at what you've done. You got me down on my knee. Before you know it Ben is down on one knee proposing to Mal, holding up an extremely rare, 15.81-carat fancy vivid purple-pink clarity diamond set on a platinum and gold ring. B: Mal, it's you and me. It's you and me forever. Will you marry me? Will you be my queen? Mal gleefully accepts. DUH! Evie is already busy sketching her potential wedding gowns... The wedding quickly commences and everyone who's anyone is in attendance. Minus Mal's parents. But Ben surprises his soon-to-be-bride with the cherry on top, the sudden appearance of her dad. Mal's dad is a renowned undertaker and medium. Who offers discounted seances. He calls himself Hades but his real name is actually Harold David Jackson, residing in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Mal valiantly tries not to smudge her makeup. But Evie made certain that it was smudge proof. Hades walks her down the isle in an utterly romantic lavender ombre floor-length gown with delicate lace details and a crown with a veil. Mal is a bold and beautiful bride in the very best in unique and custom, handmade piece complete with a pair of gold-colored, dragon-inspired heeled booties and her signature purple glove painted on 1 hand. And Mal at that very moment looking at her dad and staring up at her future husband rocking his own style in a blue suit with gold touches and a pair of black dress shoes, never again felt so lost. Lumiere officiates the wedding. Cut to the reception hosted by Adam & Belle with just 6,000 of their closest personal friends. Familiar faces such as Ariel & Eric, Phillip & Aurora, Crazy Rich Asians from Shangri-la; Captain General 'Pretty Boy' Li Shang Tsung with his Fa Mulan Rouge Hua. New Orleans restaurateur Tiana and Naveen, Blanca and her handsome hubby Jon Snow, accompanied by his father Coriolanus. Then last but most certainly not the least, Jon's pal Christopher "Kit" Harington with his ever enchanting wife Ella, who Robbed his Northern heart. The Young Wolf was tamed by a Thorny Game of Stark the Stag. The Charmings missed the wedding and arrived After Ever Happy. They had a Hardin time finding their Young Chad who arrived in a Tesla in a Brave Scottish Highland Meridian menswear. Jasmine & Ali unfortunately couldn't make it. They were stuck in Barbados, but if they were to make an appearance they would be shocked to find their son Jay in attendance. The Classic VIP Elite and not the nouveau riche. Everyone is having a gay ole time. Everyone except Carlos that is. As the newlyweds begin the first dance, everyone then follows suit. John Clayton II (Earl of Greystoke) together with his wife Jane Porter get handsy on the dance floor. Mal made a quick costume change into something shorter and less stuffy, a glow in the dark dress, trip the light fantastique, as they cut the giant Cloudberry cake with Zepherian vanilla bean. Chad invited his gossipy, lodge in, great high strung free dancer buddy, Harry, wearing a pirated navy argyle shawl, then Audrey Adele-icately slinks her arms Ahoy meaty-matey, in an effort to make Chad jealous. It works and Chad is steaming mad. Luckily Mrs. Potts calms him down with a soothing chamomile tea. Chad gets distracted by his deranged step-cousin Anna, who is Dizzy from doing Cathartic Cartwheels. The name Anna comes from Anastasia, her Auntie, who she believed to be her real mother. The truth was never divulged to her that her biological mother died in childbirth. Anastasia fell in love with a baker named Lathyn, of whom her mother Victoria Tremaine deemed inferior. So she ran away with him and left Anna with her awful mother. The former socialite Lady Tremaine doted on her dear granddaughter. And everyone knows the story of how she treated her beautiful stepdaughter Ella, it was all over the local rags. But Ella found her Prince Charming and became world famous. Jay surprisingly dances with an equally attractive person. A gentle-manly corsair named Gilles or Gil, with his crooked... bandana. Who knew? Jay wore his favorite lucky dark red beanie and Letterkenny buccaneer Gil was in Scallywag Swag. Both macho mates first fella met in and are loving members of HERCULES Gym. From Zero to Cupid's Eros. Audrey interrupts the five lovely Goddesses on stage called The Muses and proceeds to sing her hit single "Queen of Mean", while dancing suggestively, as The Muses provide backup vocals. Audrey's parents Aurora & Phillip look on uncomfortably. Phillip gave up long ago trying to discipline their pompous, pampered princess. Icy Elsa is mortified watching her sister Anna spoon-feed her husband Kristoff like a baby. Carlos wanted to ask Evie to dance but she was preoccupied with this guy named Doug who simply would not leave her alone. Doug is Evie's assistant of sorts. I don't know the exact term for it. SIMP! Doug for lack of a better word is just a nerdy, geeky, dopey DORK! A pretty, perky and plump Pollyanna named Jane, asks Carlos if he'd like to dance. "What do I have to lose?" Jane has the voice of Bette Midler, the proportions of Kathy Najimy, and the stylings of SJP. Despite her cheerful exterior, Jane was always forlorn. Her well-meaning parents were constantly busy with other peoples needs. Her mother Melanie was always trying to be the fairest godmother to other peoples kids. Her, OCD macho Mr. Clean, father Robert, with an earring, tended to peoples tendons as a physical therapist. They weren't horrible just absentee parents, like a doctor or teacher spending way more time with their patients and students than their own kin. So Carlos and Jane are dancing the night away in Hocus Pocus but something still feels amiss. For Carlos couldn't help but keep looking back at Evie who soon caught the giant bouquet. Carlos was irrevocably torn. It takes two to tango but Carlos was dancing with himself. Come hell or high water Carlos wouldn't be missing an algorithm, he would feel the beat. Music from the heart is like an electrical jolt to the nervous system.

Fortune was on Carlos' side. For another strange man approached him. But this wasn't for a job offer. He was offering something else. An inheritance! "My name is Jessie Cameron. Are you by any chance Carlos Oscar Boyce?" The name came from Carlos' foster parents, mercenary Clayton who used an assumed name but his real name is actually William Cecil Clayton and stewardess Gerda, who went missing in the Pacific ocean. Carlos always felt that they may have just faked their own disappearance to avoid returning to him. When Carlos came of age he had the fortitude to leave the orphanage to pursue his dream. His dream though was unclear. C: Uh yes! That's me. Who's asking? J: I work for a law firm. I'm here to bequeath a request from your birth mother, Cruella de Vil, if you'll just sign some papers in my office then you can get back to whatever it is you were doing. Fortuitous Carlos tries to process this information. "My Mommie Dearest is Cruella de Vil!" Even Carlos knew who that was. Without having any prior knowledge or interest in the world of fashion. Cruella had left Carlos the bulk of her entire fortune. Including her home, Hell Hall. Which was home to her vast collection of fur coats, her beloved car, a custom black and white 1974 Panther De Ville Saloon and assorted vehicles stored in the enormous garage like a 1930s Bugatti Royale which was a car too expensive and exclusive for some members of royal families. And of course her famous fashion house, House of DeVil. Carlos first read the fine print, as he eerily envisaged a Faustian bargain with Mephistopheles tempting him with Adam's forbidden apples. Alluring him into an abysmal inferno. As Carlos teetered and signed away, he felt like he was signing in his own blood. Making a pact with the DeVil. Coin is coveted but the meek shall inherit the earth. Mr. Cameron handed Carlos the keys to the kingdom and gave him a firm congratulatory handshake. Cruella had a keen sense of style, and recognized burgeoning talent. Like Anita Darling who was dearly sufficient, but forsook sartorial satisfaction for icky matrimony melancholy with her inept Roger Rabbit. Alas Cruella looked on in disdain for the squandered potential. "Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May" Even at an early age Cruella new she was special, destined for greatness. "From the very beginning I've always made a statement, I realized I saw the world differently than everyone else. That didn't sit well with some people. But I wasn't FOR everyone. I guess they were always scared that I'd be... a psycho." She new the somebody's from the nobody's, simply by the clothes on their backs. It was as clear as night and day, black and white Dalmatian spots. And it wasn't about how much wealth you've accumulated. Some people just had that it-factor that was sorely missing from the general public. Simplicity is the subtlety of lack of imagination. A droll doldrums of dull. A plain piss of shan't. Cruella a minimalist? Bah Humbug! Anathema Cruella was flagrantly flamboyant. Extravagantly ostentatious. In an ever changing environ, Cruella is never gonna change. Forever stuck in the past, like an old timey movie, where everyone looked marvelous. Simply swell nonchalance wearing their furs and chain-smoking carelessly, without any objections. Until the dreaded day when they began to care and all hell breaks loose. Cruella hid in her domain where she felt safe and warm, away from the ugly mongrels. Unknowingly becoming the hideous creature despised and feared by all, but revered by aficionados. A radiant, rude and ready to rumble. Politeness were for people who looked like Popeye. Manners maketh ixnay Cruella. A pretty reporter named Pepper Dennis once asked impulsive Cruella a stigmatic rhetorical question; "So being a furry means you run around in a fur suit all the time, right?" Her nuanced Dennis the Menace response was to pepper her pretty red herring face smack onto the bloody pavement. “Black and white is salt and pepper of colors, for life tastes bland without them.” Cruella's ethos in the world at large was simple. It was Dog-eat-dog, Kill or Be Killed! 'An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth' and 'No good deed goes unpunished' Cruella believed that humans were capable of careless cruelty, but clothing was a dreamy world of perfect things. A definition of your psyche, and fur was the ultimate accessory. Animals were truly Gods creatures, for they provided warmth in the frigid air. Their soft, supple, silky pelts were the answers to this wretched existence. In a black and white domicile, she is a bloodstained authentic animal rug. In a black and white filtered Insta cesspool of Hufflepuffs, she is a classic unfiltered burst of revolutionary Technicolor Scarlett O'Hara. She was Gone with the Wind, and so was everyone else who stood in her path. “After all, tomorrow is another day!” “Death, taxes and childbirth! There’s never any convenient time for any of them.” "I’m quite selfish about my pleasures. I never fancied kissing children.” Cruella had no use for babies and was ready to abort the nameless son of yore, when fate intervened. She couldn't take the time off of her very hectic schedule, and needed to be seen in the spotlight. So she concealed her ever protruding tummy with the most luxurious fur coats. When it was time, she gave up the repugnant catalyst. But soon felt a woeful conjecture. She actually kept tabs on the hapless bastard as he grew into a fine young fellow. From his time in the orphanage to his waning career as a boy band blow out. But one thing was certain, his genius was a product of the Ubermensch. Destined to save her collapsing curmudgeon. "I've been to hell and back, found heaven on earth with clouds soft to the touch. But all I really need is for someone to help guide me the way back home." As the news of her ill-fated demise made her increasing notoriety the stuff of legends. To achieve the heights of greatness in memoriam is a feat that the living could only dare dream of. Cruella pulls a quixotic Queen's Gambit in exchange for "siempreviva." Life is ludicrous if one is not living to it's full potential. Act as if what you do makes a difference. Aspire to inspire before we expire. 'These violent delights have violent ends'

The biggest revelation was finding out who his real father was. Victor Libby was a huge Rock & Roll legend who dressed glam rock a la Bowie as Ziggy Stardust. Victor was in a band called Paradise City and they sold countless albums worldwide. They were like an amalgam of The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Queen, Pink Floyd, AC/DC, Ramones, The Doors, Journey, Eagles, and Def Leppard. Victor was found dead in his home, apparently he had overdosed. Rumor was it that he had attempted to reconcile with her to no avail. Hence the OD. But before leaving this world he left a legacy of music. His final opus was a hit single that rose to the top of the charts, alluding to Cruella. Describing her as a complex, cold, cruel, complicated, conceited, callous, calculated, conniving, cun... and something about her firing tasteless neophytes and their vulgar fatty, obscenity filled, arse-enal. In other words Cruella was a Bitch! And she very well knew it, and just ran with it like a badge of honor, a title she took to her empty heart, and so did everyone else. For Cruella was a glowstick-in-the-muddy, murky sea of mediocrity. But you see in the world of esoteric high fashion, being bad is good. Just ask the Dalmatians. But she wore them wonderfully well. The gory details are best kept surreptitiously under wraps. A tableau of taboo. All dogs go to heaven but overzealous zealots like arrogant atheists believe we simply turn to atomic dust particles. The Young Sheldon, Big Bang Theory, primordial TMNT ooze, multiverse mumbo jumbo. E = Emcee Mickey squaring off with 2 Beavis and Butt-heads for Mic drop. They just need a dose of real heavenly soul food. Hell hath no fury like a woman sworn to be scorchingly stylista. Cruella would have pulled a wedgie on Einstein. A leopard can't change it's spots. But can be worn languidly. Some people were born to be brilliantly bad. Don't dare destroy a decidedly delicious and diabolical dexterity diva by doing a Disney do-over and downplaying her dastardly deeds in denial denouement. A disappointing development that doggone deep dives into the depths of demeaning despair and dirty desperation. To deny the truth is to let the naive grow up to be more curious. And curiosity killed the dogs! To shield innocence from reality is futile. A child's mind is a wonderment of joy but disillusioned adults tend to ruin everything, not the other way around. Let Coraline or Matilda have a little jump scare, it would do them good. In an age of censorship devoid of the more gruesome fairy tales, for which adults had to endure. By taking away Cruella's inexorable one true love, abdicates her ideological uniqueness. Thereby leaving a sliver of her former self. Her intellectual property and raison d'etre are gone to the dogs. Buddy & Wink who? Cute and cuddly cannot coexist in cohesion with Cruella's cantankerous cultish craving for canine couture. For Cruella is somebody who twinkles in the pantheon of stars and rips the veils off the eyes of fashion to fully inscribe her place in the halls of classic Bat villainy. What could be scarier than a malicious, malevolent, menacing, monster of malcontent and mayhem? With her maniacal Joker laugh, black and white with a splash of bloody red, to-die-for ensembles, sparkling in accoutrements, and swathed in the finest furs, blowing acrid neon green tinged smoke at the putrid carcasses of the carnivorous nameless victims, and stomping on her stilettos leaving imprints on the snowy ground. The poor unfortunate animals are mere roadkill on the fashion runway towards a highway to one hell of a good time. To have lived without the love of a lackluster laddie lifestyle is proof of loving oneself. Incarceration cannot contain the embers that a fiery escape towards a scandalous coat of dreams maketh. A surreal spectacle of self-indulgence. At least that's Cruella's delusional fantasy, of reaching the unreachable stars above, only to falter and fall on the precipice of plumage mundanity. But then gets swept up in a cyclone of osmosis and lands on a path to self-discovery and enlightened fantabulous fabulosity. A drag queens dream destination. To dream is to wish but to achieve ones goal is a dream of a wish fulfilled.

"It's not hatred that's important. It's a desire to annihilate." In the avaricious 1980s where primetime soaps were all the rage, Cruella was sussed out as the undisputed queen bee Alexis Carrington Colby, the bold and beautiful bitch-slapping cavalier dominatrix excelsior. Wining and dining with the upper echelons with her jaw-dropping, unfettered Nolan Miller leopard spots, acerbic tongue banter, smoking her king size durries with the Cabriole, and sheathed with a lavish cream mink fur coat with red lining. Played with off-kilter aplomb fluent in the language of postmodernism. "Who shot J.R.?" Knots Landing on Falcon Crest. Dynasty nights were the operatic auteur for enthused escapists and denigrated by highbrow academics. Tech were for nerds and style was imposed. Big hair, shoulder pads and Barbie doll svelte features. A big badonkadonk hid in the boondocks in the leg warming barracks of aerobics. It was a different time when things looked positively progressive, at least on the surface. In a thriving genre of villain revisionism, it understands that villainy, as a category, is imposed--and that, in a culture that tends to prioritize reductive myths over complicated truths, the label can be its own kind of injustice. In a paid fealty to the character’s outlandish fiendishness it is both an apotheosis and a nadir of the form. Her defining cruelty has been switched out for the demands of glossy, girlboss feminism. It takes a quintessential villain and nuances her character into oblivion. Apex predator, razor-sharp hauteur, delightfully depraved, delicious deviance strains credulity and cedes that depravity in bifurcation that is so muddled in a game of corporate-feminist Mad Libs made corporeal. Transgressive power is notably myopic with a glib condescension. A feeble foible of flailing flounder. This is part of the visceral thrill of cinematic villainy. Villains tend to be much more entertaining to watch than heroes because their embrace of aberrance can be cathartic. They acknowledge the constraints imposed by cultures that are narrow in their empathies--and then studiously ignore them. Many of Disney’s greatest villains are coded as queer for this reason. (The Little Mermaid’s Ursula was inspired by Divine, the famous drag queen.) These characters dwell at the gates of difference and, crucially, have no interest in residing anywhere else. Cruella's vapid vileness never felt the need to explain herself. Then PETA Mellark comes along and changes the game. Superseding the fun and ending the once sought-after Studio 54, with it's dictatorship at the door and a democracy on the dance floor. “A guy named Steve Rubell had a dream: To throw the best damned party the world had ever seen and to make it last forever. He built a world where fantasy was put up as reality and where an 80-year-old disco queen could dance till dawn. Where models mingled with mechanics, plumbers danced with princes. It was a place where all labels were left behind. A place where there were no rules.” "A person starts dying when they stop dreaming." "And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." "Even though you're growing up, you should never stop having fun."

Can you imagine a young Cruella orphaned, penniless and homeless, running amok in the streets of London? Perish the thought for this ain't that story. Young Cruella or Estella as she was known, grew up spoiled rotten to the core, in the divine lap of luxury and haut monde. Decadently outre in only the privileged first world aristocracy bubble, oblivious to the plight of the less fortunate. "The poor are crazy, the rich just eccentric." Marie Antoinette would be proud and envious. The only thing that mattered was MORE! Less is more was imprudent. Estella's family were of the nobility and exceedingly wealthy. Poverty was never an option. Little Estella had a nefarious streak and not just her hair, if she didn't get what she wanted, she would throw a tantrum and no one could exorcise her but her mother, the Baroness von Hellman; who is NOT a renowned fashion designer but dresses like Evita Peron, who would lock her in the closet filled with fur coats. She conquered her fear of the dark and embraced it, using theatricality and deception as a powerful weapon. Breaking bad like a bat out of hell. Coincidentally this is where her obsession with furs began. Her first fur coat at the age of 5 was rabbit, followed by Silver Fox, Marten, Mink, Ermine, Vicuna, Chinchilla, Russian Sable, Lynx, until finally her salvation to immortality. In the watering hole of the ne'er-do-well well-to-do, where depravity and debauchery reign. Estella's only vexing vice is her attitudinal degradation and morbid fascination for the pelt of animals. Estella was not the prettiest, but lordy, she wasn't atrocious either, save for her attitude. Precocious Estella went through Au Pairs faster than Wednesday Addams. During a stormy night a lovely lady in red appears on the front porch of the manor with a magical parrot head umbrella. The rosy-cheeked beauty was ready to tame the beast. With a beautiful voice, voluptuous figure and sacre bleu impeccable sense of style. The New Yorker was named Mary Maria Fraulein who spoke fluent French, Italian, Spanish, German and a little Japanese. Impressionable Estella was enamored with Mary as she opened her eyes to the glamorous world of high fashion. Beauty and youth are much coveted so it came as no surprise when the philately boring Baron Daniel took a liking to Mary, and so did the flighty Baroness Sienna. It would lead to a tryst of ménage à trois and end with Mary falling down the stairs, and breaking her neck. It was ruled an accident as Mary was wearing four inch heels. Estella, with a look of mischief, in a twinkling would adapt her style but took it a step further up a notch. The pint-sized profligate grew into a size zero tower of terror. But like a plain model who with the right maquillage and coiffure could be quite alluring. She was wearing a tight-fitting emerald satin dress, several ropes of rubies, and an absolutely simple white mink cloak, which reached to the high heels of her ruby-red shoes. Dorothy Gale couldn't hold a candle next to her or she'd get burned out. Estella was an outcast with her hair, which was hereditary, but she simply just socked in the face the podunks who messed with her, regardless of age or gender. Lawsuits would come and go but the mountain of moolah never stopped raining down on their parade. Imagine never having to worry about a consistent cash flow, even in an economic crisis. They are the so called 0.01 percent, and Estella is the sole beneficiary of all the accrued riches. The untouchable hoity-toity. Estella's first love was a dashing young man named Lucifer. Too much? OK! Maybe Lucius, Lafayette... no, let's say Lars. So Lars with his eyes as black as night, lips as red as the rose, skin as white as sno... wait a sec, never mind! Basically he resembles those heartthrob vampires on screen who suck the life out of you. Great Expectations Miss Havisham style. The lothario is Romanian royalty, rich in lechery. The libertine Lars not only breaks and crushes poor Estella's fragile heart into a million tiny pieces, but also takes away her virginity and then leaves her high and dry. What a prick! The Baroness was beside herself with dismay at Estella for allowing the most eligible bachelor to slip right through her fingertips. Mind you they were still mere pups when the Baroness already envisioned a marriage proposal. Like something out of Pride & Prejudice or Bridgerton. I guess having exorbitant wealth meant never having to say your sorry for your actions and your noblesse oblige is to afford yourself another expensive parting gift. Maybe another fur coat perhaps. So Estella vowed never to succumb to the charms of love again and get tied down to the histrionics and norms of society and left all that to the sad, pathetic, lonely wanton fools. But the jilted Estella created a more creative outlet to express her frustration. By unleashing her talent for fashion and making the fashion council take notice. Her passion for fashion far exceeded expectation. Reaching the very pinnacle of Alta Moda. Rivaling incroyable the greats such as Gianni Versace, John Galliano, Vivienne Westwood, Gaultier, D&G, Thierry Mugler, Karl Lagerfeld, Valentino and Alexander McQueen. For the title of most avant-garde, au courant and oh-so-tres chic! Soon she was lauded as the next rising star in the London fashion scene. An English rose Georgina Chapman in a smog-filled air of fugly Weinstein's. She needed a complete revamp and altered her look and name to reflect her persona. And eventually the whole entire world would know the name Cruella de Vil! But love or lust would take a slight detour towards workaholic rococo-loco Cruella. A ruggedly dapper James Dean, with moves like Jagger and Elvis, pelvic thrusts his way, inching closer to the newly reinvented Cruella. Victor Libby was a poetic musician and musical savant who could play practically any instrument. But Cruella played him like a fiddle. Bow-chicka-wow-wow. The very distinguishable and colorful Cruella soon catches the eye of Victor and becomes his muse. The Fascist Fashionista and The Rock Star! A match made en vogue heaven, where music and fashion collide. The birds were singing and the drapes dripping with diamond dust. On fleek! Victor on the cover of Rolling Stone, dressed in John Varvatos. And Cruella in all her furtastic fancy flashiness on the covers of British and American Vogue. Their whirlwind romance would take a pause in a bittersweet symphony. Like an inverse of Mick Jagger and L'Wren Scott. “I loved something I made up, something that's just as dead as puppies. I made a pretty suit of clothes and fell in love with it. And when Victor came riding along, so handsome, so different, I put that suit on him and made him wear it whether it fitted him or not. And I wouldn't see what he really was. I kept on loving the pretty clothes -- and not him at all.” When next we meet Cruella's bumbling henchmen, the horrid Horace and jovial Jasper, a pair of lowly crooks who help Cruella take down her rivals, among others. They swiftly become irreverent anecdotes in the pursuit of narcissistic new wave. Life is not always Dalmatian black and white but 101 spacious shades of crimson covered Odysseus gloves, sewing a golden fleece on the twelve steps to fashion superstardom. To be worshipped by the adoring passionnee de mode as the goddess of fashion. In hot pursuit by a trail of irksome klaxon from candy cars. To flee the confines of conformity is to revel in ingenuity.

Hell Hall, formerly known as Hellman Hall was situated in Suffolk, England. As Carlos ventured into his new inner sanctum, he felt a cold shiver down his spine. The place was stupendous and he pondered just maybe selling it. It was just too much for little ole Carlos. But then Carlos saw all the oil paintings of his ancestors with their very distinctive two tone hair. This was not just simply Cruella's abode, it used to belong to his Descendants as well. The Manor is a 56,500-square-foot (5,250 m2) Elizabethan-style abode, which was built in 1558. It was a grand country house that looked wild and huge with the sea crashing on the rocks below. A canopy to one side of the house and gardens. With 123 rooms (including 27 bathrooms and 14 bedrooms) on five acres of land. The grand foyer has a monochrome colour scheme with a sweeping staircase, black and white marble flooring, a crystal floating castle chandelier and Renaissance-style paintings. The formal living room is a vast white-on-white space with three separate seating areas, an open marble fireplace and a grand piano. The formal dining room has a monochrome colour scheme and a colossal fireplace. A 100-seater dining table sits below a low-hanging crystal chandelier crowned by a black ceiling rose. French doors lead to the expansive gardens. Cruella was once photographed drinking but never eating a morsel. Apparently she ate but the proof therein belies a mystery. She has zero percent body fat and is model thin. FAT is a noose pestiferous hubbub and must be expunged or lipoed from ones cerebrum. Botticelli is Botched! The repulsive abhorrent can only be applied to her bank account. There's a gigantic kitchen, a granite motor court for 100 cars, mammoth garage, a solarium, a wine cellar, and a football field size ballroom. There's no gym but try traipsing from room to room and feel the calisthenics burn. The master suite has 7,000 sq ft of living space and includes a kitchen; which Cruella has never step foot in, a living room, his and hers closets and bathrooms and Cruella's boudoir decorated in black, white and grey. A massive bathroom with a soaking tub, cove ceiling and three wall-length vanity mirrors makes up just one of the home's 27 bathrooms. Cruella's enormous J'adore two walk-in closets was meticulously arranged by season and color-coordinated. As if morose Cruella cared about the season. She was a Frozen Winter Wonderland. Never letting go of her beloved pelage. She was always pictured perpetually covered in furs. And she wasn't obsessive-compulsive either, but her closet sure begged to differ and those infinite furs. More than enough to cover a polar ice cap. "Shiver me timbers" An emporium of tranquil stimuli of serotonin and endorphins, a monumental magnifique merch. There were the blinding jewelry by Bvlgari, Cartier, Chopard, Harry Winston, Mikimoto, Tiffany & Co, and Van Cleef & Arpels. Then onto these shoes are made for walking all over you. From Louboutin to Manolo, Jimmy Choo to Ferragamo, Steve Madden and Stuart Weitzman. And cosmetics by Chanel, Mary Kay, Dior, YSL, L'Oreal, MAC, Estee Lauder, Elizabeth Arden, Maybelline, Neutrogena. Accessoires melange, Cruella's vast collection of antique Audrey Hepburn cigarette holders and gold/silver/diamond case, chapeau by the preeminent milliners like Philip Treacy, and handbags by Marc Jacobs, Fendi, Dior, Louis Vuitton, Saint Laurent (YSL), Chanel, Prada, Gucci, Chloe, Bottega Veneta, and Hermes Birkin's. Plus Cruella's custom-made, one of a kind get-ups and fit like a glove; mittens, muffs and gauntlets. Sunglasses, visors, pins, pens, perfumes, broaches, trinkets, watches, belts, scarves, ties, capes, you name it she's got it. Did I mention the furs? "Faint heart never won fur lady" RuPaul would have to be dragged out of the race. Then Carlos stumbled upon a cleverly concealed antechamber of sorts. That led to a secret underground cavern. He felt like a Tomb Raider of the Lost Archeology in a crusade for a crystal temple dial. The dial was a mammoth sized solid gold vault. Carlos briskly took his laptop and cracked The Da Vinci Code. Inside was a shocker! The mummified remains of his ancestors! (GASP!) I'm Kidding!! No, actually it was a Willy Wonka's wide-eyed wonder. A Nazi Nirvana National Treasure trove of long-lost artifacts, gold, jewels, religious objects and priceless paintings. A facsimile of the ones safeguarded in the Louvre, the Musee d'Orsay, Vatican, Guggenheim, Winter Palace in St. Petersburg, Smithsonian, and other renowned museums. The da Vinci, Gauguin, Jackson Pollock, Picasso, Rembrandt, Cezanne, and van Gogh. If they are the real deal? That means those out there are all FAKE! And Carlos procured the genuine article. Poor Carlos never has to worry about becoming poor. What am I saying?! Lucky bastard! The insouciant de Vil's were a divergent Robin Hood who would take from the rich and said FU to the poor. Firestarters destroy to pillage and plunder valuables and secure them in Midas vault. A passive-aggressive comeuppance. A five-finger discount not for sale. To steal is to want but to accept immaterial is enriching.

When Carlos was done scouring and surveying the manor, like his personal man-cave, he couldn't help but feel like Batman, so he went for a joyride in The Batmobile i.e. his mums car. And came across the House of DeVil, a bizarre Gothicky development in the heart of the City of London, the city's financial heart. The seemingly crumbling edifice with it's sheen beginning to tarnish and a doom and gloom domicile in need of a glomp. As he entered the former reigning house of style, he couldn't help but notice the emptiness in the echoing hallways. Fewer people were being employed and even fewer clientele. Carlos needed to revitalize this declining company. But how? Using his wits and savvy of course. Firstly he hired Evie as the new head designer. Then Carlos needed to market these babies. Evie quickly sketched nonstop for a future collection. The fashion house catered mostly to older wealthy matrons. Evie tried to change all that by using men as well as women. And merchandising affordable ready-to-wear fashions and accessories for all ages. Soon it was time for the big reveal. The culmination of all their hard work. The showcasing of the new and improved collection. They needed to wow the crowd. And they didn't disappoint. Graced by the presence of the fashion titans, musicians, athletes, movie stars, politicians, socialites, reps from the British royal family, the A-listers. Together with DJs wearing funky multicolored helmets, LED floors, moving paintings or kinetic art pieces of Michelangelo's The Creation of Adam, Gustave Dore's The Fall of the Rebel Angels, Gustave Doré's Paradise Lost, Angels & Demons by Oleksandr Yarmoliuk and glowing balloon filled ceiling. It dramatically opens with a Katniss Everdeen fire dress. The model lights a cigarette and drops it onto the silk bouffant and becomes engulfed in flames. But two hot firemen douse it, then strips off the burned frock to unveil an icy sculpted bodice underneath with individually handsewn pearls, dripping in a sparkling fountain skirt. Every intricate piece received kudos. Everyone cheered for the sublime. Evie was about to embark onstage, when Carlos halted her. He then sauntered onto the catwalk instead and shocked the fashionistas present by sporting a gorgeous, long, sleek, black, authentic fur coat. "You can either slouch or strut." The crowd quickly rose to their feet in applause. "Bravo!" "Encore!" As Carlos bathe in the glow of darkness. A dark and ferocious furry of frenzy. A fluffy of fashion. Carlos became the new face of fierce fashion. As Evie looked on in concern. As the crowd goes wild. Carlos was slowly mutating into some kind of wild bestial animal. Similar to speak of the devil Angie in the HBO Original Movie GIA! As he laughed maniacally. He was after all the spawn of de Vil. To be driven to the depths of an inescapable embrace from the maddening beast. The distinction between good and evil should not be difficult but the definition in the eyes of fashion may invariably differ. He Who is Not Courageous Enough to Take Risks Will Accomplish Nothing in Life.

If life were predictable it would cease to be life, and be without flavor. Carlos' face was plastered everywhere. The headlines read: Dressed for Success, Dressed to Kill; KILLER FASHION! and DARK PRINCE OF DeVIL! He fanned the flames and ignited furore in animal rights. Which only led to his ever growing popularity. As sales rocketed to the stratosphere. Evie may have designed the clothes, but industrious Carlos created his very own signature looks. He modeled his own clothes with black studded fingerless gloves, wearing his mothers old furs and even sporting a long cigarette holder. Carlos never smoked but wanted to invent the illusion of nicotine use. He was ready to take over the world. Or at least that's what it felt like. He had the Ruling Ring minus The One Ring that feted a merry union. The arts revered Carlos and inducted him into the hall of fame, just like his iconic mother. Carlos was a staple at the Met Gala and always one step ahead of the curve. He got invited to all the exclusive wild nightspots and shindigs, red carpet premieres, ribbon cutting ceremonies. Requested by the reigning rulers and royals. Dignitaries and dilettantes. Jet-setting in his private jet to the fashion capitals; Paris, Milan, New York, Tokyo, Toronto, Amsterdam, Antwerp, Copenhagen, Madrid, Mumbai, Melbourne, Berlin, Barcelona, Stockholm, Seoul, Shanghai, Sao Paulo, St. Petersburg, LA and Rome. Cruising the high seas in his 179.7 m (590 ft) yacht, 'The Charmer Cam Cienna', christened with a bottle of 1945 Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, Romanée-Conti Grand Cru. Pictured living on the edge; Jet-skiing, swimming with the great white sharks, flyboarding, wakeboarding, parasailing, paddleboarding, rafting, skydiving, snowboarding, spelunking, walk a tightrope, bungee jumping, skating on a frozen lake. He was even honoured with a Star on the world famous Hollywood Walk of Fame. But like Muhammad Ali who didn't want to be stepped on like all the other stars and broke with tradition. The star was mounted on the wall instead of the pavement. Along 7th Avenue (or Fashion Avenue) the Fashion Hall of Fame resides. Carlos upset the balance by paying for his very own monument erected for the star. He argued that he was after all half Brit & Yank. His father was originally American who relocated to England. He was King of the World! Any disputes were trampled by his army of legal execs. He didn't need a PR team, they were a waste of time and money. For which Carlos had no patience for. He was already busy spinning his own cycle of Celebrity Deuteronomy. It was always a celebration and everyone were having the time of their young lives. Paranoia would slowly creep into Carlos like a little devil on the shoulder whispering in his ear. They were all secretly laughing at his expense, jealous of his success. Jay was too cool for school, Carlos wanted what Mal and Ben had, Jane with her bubbly and buoyant demeanor was beginning to get on his nerves, and Evie now only thought of him as her dominant superior; Carlos Grey! Despite his best efforts to explain in length his actions, his apology fell on deaf ears. They must all be plotting against me. He no longer could break bread with backstabbers. Bread has existed in some form for over 12,000 years, especially amongst the poor. Ancient Greek peasants dipped their stale, measly bread in wine for breakfast. And how did Jesus teach us to pray if not to beg for our daily bread? It is, and has always been, the food of the common man. But Carlos no longer saw himself as the common man and withheld his bagel, biscotti, and brioche. So Carlos began seeing less and less of his friends and just focused squarely on tasks and the limelight. Feigning froideur, a fluff or a faff? Fidgeting over foie gras, fondue or filet mignon. Logorrhea's just can't seem to keep their sarcastic mouths shut and let nature run it's course. Paparazzi would often catch him drunk and disorderly, causing a commotion and getting into altercations. Carlos was never tardy for work but invented the facade of the idle rich. Carlos was a clever CEO/Creative director and would soon lose hearts with his cool couture, classic car and by being a cad. But it was all a carefully constructed lie. The illusion of superficial excess living. It was all working on his behalf. Harmonious to the song The Great Pretender by The Platters: I'm the great (the great) pretender, pretending that I'm doing well, my need is such I pretend too much, I'm lonely but no one can tell, Adrift in a world of my own, Too real is this feeling of make-believe, And I'm wearing my heart like a crown. Regardless of how far a person runs, a lie will eventually catch up to them. Don't Wait for Opportunity, Create it.

Success is No Accident. As Carlos' business grew so did his ego. Jane persistently tried to get ahold of him through calls and texts. Concerned for his wellbeing. For methodical Carlos was working his fingers to the bone in perfection and wasn't getting enough sleep. Insomniac Carlos adhered to the belief that naps were for deadbeat, lackadaisical catatonics. But indefatigable Carlos had it up to here with Jane's incessant interruptions and couldn't be bothered so he just blocked her altogether. The way to get started is to quit talking and begin doing. He was never tardy or tired and always the punctual punk. Time is precious and should not be wasted in stagnant indolence. Carlos was constantly on the search for the next big thing. The now, the hip and happenin'. The Infinity Gauntlet! Carlos was akin to Halston in exquisite taste, flair and determination to pursue world domination through branding, everything from lingerie and perfume to luggage and bedding. He was as clear-eyed as he was forward thinking, representing a wide swath of life. He was such a savvy marketer, an aesthete, a creative genius. He was also a little bit Coco Chanel in suggesting to Evie that the clothing also had to be practical and comfortable for the work environment. Fashionable and functional clothing that was easy to wear. "There is no time for cut-and-dried monotony. There is time for work. And time for love. That leaves no other time!" "In order to be irreplaceable one must always be different." "How many cares one loses when one decides not to be something but to be someone." "Fashion is not something that exists in dresses only. Fashion is in the sky, in the street, fashion has to do with ideas, the way we live, what is happening." "Success is often achieved by those who don't know that failure is inevitable." Carlos hired the best fashion photographers in the business, but when they could not keep up with Carlos' vision, he rapidly sacked them and booted them off to the hood of obscurity, then briskly took over. Carlos hired celebs like Dove Cameron, Booboo Stewart and Thomas Doherty. He had them sandwiched together with the top supermodels. Sprawled on top of each other in a vintage Versace like campaign. A retro style 1950s pinup GUESS ad in color as well as black and white. With the models hearkening to the luminary figures such as Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, Elvis Presley, Marlon Brando, Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn. For the classics never truly go out of style. The Old Hollywood Glamour Guns with their huffing and puffing plumes from their ciggies. Which of course creates a bit of controversy. But controversy sells. Some countries banned the ads but that didn't stop the overenthusiastic fans to pilfer them like the Catwoman posters from Batman Returns. The Versace logo is the head of Medusa. While the modified emblem for The House of DeVil are two black and white dog bones in an ex-istential marks the spot, with blood stained background. The latest billboards were odd and off-kilter, incongruous and imaginative. In more colorful Richard Avedon pastiche. Like The Walking Corpse Bride, Cleopatra wrapped in 800 thread count Egyptian cotton; with an anaconda looking ready to ingest her. Sleeping Beauty Black Dahlia severed in half, Bella Thorne as little sparkly white mermaid tangled in thorny vines. Miley Cyrus as Vanellope von Schweetz; swinging from a red wrecking-ball. Joe Jonas getting devoured by a cake by the ocean in his birthday suit. Tarzan bathing in a blue lagoon; being watched by Jane in a black ball gown and gorilla capelet. A giant Teddy Bear hugging an Asian-Indian cowgirl. Bo Peep in stylin' sheared sheepskin. Pop art Andy War-Hero with spray painted fatigues, making a salute to the fashion gods, flanked by toy supermodels. A bewitching warlock burning the stakes in a steamy game of strip poker. Jessica Rabbit reclining on the divan suggestively; wearing only rabbit fur. The Witcher, Vikings and Game of Thrones in leather and fabulous furs, in a RED RUM wedding. A model in Gaga meat dress getting attacked by Dalmatians. A devilishly handsome prince draped in snakeskin, with fangs, holding out a shiny apple to diaphanous clad Evie. Dorothy in blue gingham gown with a straw hat, tin gloves and lion's mane shawl, on the yellow brick road to the glowing Emerald Palace. A beautiful Spanish rose covered in cinders, trapped in a glass dome. A maid marionette scrubbing blood off a checkered floor, as Belle Époque-ahontas is La dolce vita. A mannequin window display comes to life in Charmeuse, but her limbs have fallen off. A ravishing redhead is applying makeup but her reflection in the mirror is that of a ravaged wildebeest. Barbie & Ken, in Metallic black and white, driving Hot Wheels while being chased by an aggravated red bull John Cena. A model hunched over at the back of Notre Dame. Draconian Countess Elizabeth bathing in an ornate black and white oyster tub filled with blood. Another prince being kissed by 101 Swarovski covered frogs. Supes and Cap strangling Mickey all black-and-blue. Pumpkinhead hollow riding black stallion, sporting horse hair coat, and running over icky bod crane. Santa Krampus decking the halls with boughs of folly. A couple kissing under the blood moon sky in fireworks fashions, surrounded by heart shaped topiaries sprouting red roses.... Doug had grown weary of Evie. He was starting to feel like a manservant and no longer a confidant. During a night out at The Aristocats, right next to Tony's Town Square Italian Restaurant, while having a few drinks by himself, Doug encounters Jane sitting by her lonesome. So he decides to join her and they quickly bond over their similarities. It was like the stars were aligned. And pretty soon Carlos and Evie would inevitably find each other. The fated path of the lovelorn. Love aches, passion yearns, but soul mates are kismet.

The House of DeVil is in the seam of stifling persona non grata, like the mob scene in Beauty & The Beast, riotous demonstrators with their anti-fur slogans: "Fur is not a fabric", "I would rather go naked than wear fur" Compassion is the fashion. Fur hurts. Cruelty is one fashion statement we can do without. Fake for the animals sake. Fur is beautiful on animals, ugly on people. Don't buy, while they die. Give fur the cold shoulder. There's a big FU in every FUR. Fur means you hate animals. You can live without fur, some animals can't. "For you, it's a fashion choice. For the animals, it's life or death." "Cavemen wore fur. Have you evolved?" If you wouldn't wear your dog, don't wear fur... Despite humans having a longer life span than our furry companions. Their gestapo like methods in vouching their beliefs though leave much to be desired. As Carlos steps out of a black and white Rolls Royce Phantom stretch limo, he is immediately bombarded with profanities and outcries of "MURDERER!" "Off with his head!" "Kill the Beast!" "Crucify him!" shouted the Brutus Barabbas. Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do. As Marie Antoinette would say, "Let them eat cake" The straw that broke the camel's back. Or in this scenario in the vasoconstrictive cold weather, "Let them wear fur!" Carlos keeps his cool and his shades on as he slowly climbs the stairs to the fashion house. An aggravated virulent protester and another virago try dumping red paint and powder on Carlos. But Carlos expeditiously does a roundhouse kick and sends the canister and pouch flying in midair, landing splat on the two vitriolic vultures. Karma is a bitch! What they failed to realize is that Carlos is simply putting on a facade. A cultivated image of the bad boy persona. Carlos loved animals, but to be seen caressing and being affectionate towards our four legged friends meant ruining his charade. Carlos was neither a saint nor politician, so he need not behave. He was an entertainer, a master showman, giving the adoring posh, elegant sophisticates a taste of things to come. He made charitable contributions to animal welfare, conservation and adoption. But were all overlooked because of his scandalous media blitz. The furs used were recycled preexisting ones. But it didn't matter for the activists had already made up their empty headed minds. Caring not for the homeless, human trafficking, the environment, Et al. and only centered on one specific glib cause. Peace on earth and goodwill toward mankind just seems like a farce. Warmongers & No Peace Treaty! Why can't we all just get along? Because we can't! A meteoric rise to mangy mutiny. Carlos thought like a businessman and knew what sold. People unfortunately only see what they wanna see. Behind the velvet curtain is a laborious factory filled with thousands of fervent workers, who toil to produce exquisitely elegant ensembles. Art like fashion is a thing of beauty, but is only appreciated by those fortunate trained eyed visionaries with a passion for par excellence; and not to those who take themselves too seriously. Tastes may vary but one thing is certain; Class is not taught by rewarding riches; but by being rich with rewarded great kindness. The House of DeVil is NOT the House of Mouse! It is a veritable pastiche of a Vegas Haunted Hazbin Hotel! A mix of The Munsters, The Addams Family and Monster High. It's creepy, kooky, mysterious and spooky. Strange, deranged and freakishly FAB! Looks may be deceiving but style is magnanimous. "Positive anything is better than negative nothing."

Business was booming but paradoxically Carlos failed to please everyone. The critics maligned and lambasted Carlos for his ephemeral, gaudy, Emperor's New Groove. They sternly called him a poor little rich boy. A poor little orphaned Athina Onassis, with aspirational attributes, addendum, unrelatable and therefore not to be taken seriously. A party-hardy Bruce Wayne and terrifying Batman dressed like the Joker. Success is Not Final, Failure is Not Fatal: it is the Courage to Continue that Counts. Carlos was weary and had grown distant from his so called friends. And his staff were frightened of him. As he gazed upon himself in the mirror, all he saw was a sad and lonely boy, seeking the approval of others. He had metamorphosed into his mother unconsciously. He had to find a way to fix things. In the workplace and with his cronies. Trends may come and go but friends like family mean more than fame and fortune. "No man is an island, no man lives alone." House of DeVil needed a complete overhaul. A veritas solution to a more successful symmetrical symbiosis. Starting with a healthier, happier, non toxic working environment. Carlos got to know each and every member of his conglomerate. They held company outings and competitive games and just plain fun activities. In short they were making progress in loosening up and becoming less stressful. And pretty soon people were warming up to him and productivity was at an all time high. Next up was mending his friendships. But first... a lanky lack of fashion sense Jasper Badun introduces himself to Carlos as a former associate of Cruella's. Nay a loyal subservient who does what he's told for he's secretly in love with Cruella. Jasper explains that he needs some alms for his portly, like a bruh-ther, cohort Horace who has fallen deathly ill and is in dire need of surgery. Carlos could readily read people and knew that Jasper was being sincere. So he offered to help out. Jasper would be forever in his debt. Philanthropy is godsend. "The only real mistake is the one from which we learn nothing."

Carlos tended to fly solo while working. But opted to get his buddies involved as well. He called up Jay and asked him for a favor. Jay jokingly obliged. It was always his dream to become an underwear model. And Jay was perfect for their new men's undergarment line. Carlos then politely asked Evie if she could model her own designs together with Mal of course. She concurred. Carlos hired David LaChapelle and Annie Leibovitz to capture the captivating comeliness. Then eventually Ben was getting in on the act. Modeling high fashion gear in Irving Penn and Helmut Newton style. And pretty soon Jay's boyfriend Gil wanted a piece of the action. He joined Jay in some pretty provocative ad campaigns. Too racy for the little ones. Like a classic Abercrombie & Fitch spread by Bruce Weber and Herb Ritts. Which only made Carlos even richer. Not that he needed it. Now that all that was settled. It was time to finally make his move. He was going to ensnare the beautiful and brilliant princess. By simply being himself. "Be yourself; everyone else is already taken." C: Evie! Would you maybe like to go out sometime? E: Like on a date? C: Aha! Something like that. E: Carlos I'm flattered but I can't. C: Why not? E: I just... Evie just runs away. Carlos tries to valiantly catch up to her but she vanishes. He tries contacting her but nothing. He calls everyone who might know where she is but still naught. He even tries looking for her at the airport. Nada! Evie went home to her mother. Her mothers name is Regina. Regina's most trusted assistant Zane opens the door. Regina's spacious flat is furnished in 1930s Snow White ambience, and decorated with cherry apples with a golden crown atop and 5 spikes on the front. Regina was wearing 7Ds bright opaque purple with orange-yellow high-heel pumps. And the piece de resistance is a wall-mounted ornate mirror. Regina purchased it from a girl named Alice in Switzerland. Through the looking glass she saw the reflection of hipster Zane, who told her she was the fairest of them all, and meant it. Zane wasn't hitting on her, au contraire, he was dating an interior designer named Lucas Prince. For Regina resembled a mature and sassy Sofia Carson. Ever since then, they bonded securely and forged a lifelong friendship. Regina tries consoling her only daughter with Zane offering some beverages and finger food. R: What's the matter dear? E: It's Carlos. He wants to go out with me. R: And? E: I'm just not ready to be in a relationship. I'm too focused on my career. People don't even realize that I design most of the clothes. I'm just this ghost designer. Carlos takes all the credit. R: I'm sure that's not true. People in the know must have heard of you. That's why you need to talk to Carlos. Tell him what's really bothering you. Open up sweetheart. Don't just bottle it all up. E: I don't know. I'm just scared, I guess. R: Scared! Nonsense! He's your friend isn't he? He's the one who offered you this job in the first place. You just tell it to him straight. That you want to be taken seriously. You want the credit that you rightfully deserve. Now just stop your sniveling and go take that leap of faith. Listen to your mother. Just go! Shoo! E: All right mom. I'm going. Thanks for the advice. R: That's what I'm here for. Now scram! E: Thanks for the cookies Zane. Bye mom. Love ya! R: Love you to sweetie! Kiss kiss. Buh bye! Unbeknownst to Evie, Regina already knew her daughters future, it was written in the stars. At "Empress' Earthly Kitts", in between a Costco and Kronk's Gym; where the owner loves eating his couscous, and near a furry Llama convention center, Regina had her fortune told by a weirdo named Yzma, wearing a black and purple long dress with an indigo feather-like wig, blue earrings, and a frilled purple collar. Yzma blabbed on about Evie but could not see anything in her crystal orb concerning Regina. Then it was over. Y: Fork it over! Regina in a harrumph tosses over the cash and says her goodnight! "Goodbye or goodnight, but a tender kiss is like fresh baked goods."

Carlos was worried. Did he just drive her further away? "What am I going to do?" Just then Evie walks right into Carlos' enormous office and demands that she get her due. Carlos laughs. Evie is shocked. "Is that a diss?" C: No no no! I was already planning on giving you full credit. I only hesitated because I didn't want my competitors snagging you away from me. I want you all to myself. I know that's pretty selfish of me. But if you choose to leave then I respect that. This time Evie is the one who laughs. C: What is that supposed to mean? E: I'm not going anywhere dummy! I'm staying right here. C: Oh thank God! Carlos unexpectedly kisses her. Oh! I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have done that. I, I..... (stuttering) E: That's perfectly alright. I remember kissing a dog, I mean Doug! C: Don't tell me I remind you of him. E: Quite the contrary! What I was about to say is, while kissing Doug, I felt nothing. Whereas with you. I felt... something. C: You felt sparks fly. E: Yes! Exactly! C: Does this mean what I think it means? E: I would love to go out on a date with you. C: Finally! Sorry! Thank you! Can we go right now? E: Um, Okay. Sure why not! Carlos, in his white Gibbs Aquada high speed amphibious vehicle, drives them on water to a quaint little eatery run by a fisherman named Massimo Marcovaldo. Carlos rented out the entire restaurant called The Blue Marlen Umbrella. It was by the docks surrounded by floating lanterns. It was the Start of Something New so he surprises Evie by wrapping a necklace around her swan neck, a blue-studded pendant. Carlos was about to order the most expensive dish on the menu, the trifola d'Alba Madonna, or white Alba truffle, which grows in Italy and Beluga's Almas Caviar which is known as 'King of Kings' in the caviar world, when Evie stopped him. E: You don't have to impress me. Why don't we just skip the main course and go straight for the sweet dessert. This time it was Evie who surprises him with a romantic kiss. They are then adjoined by a light posse of sparkly, shimmering fireflies. You may ask, how on earth did Carlos manage to finagle all this at short notice? When you have boatloads of cash just floating around, the sky is the limit. The owner threw out all the other customers with complimentary goodies. Carlos told him he was going to be spending an obscene amount of money. "Exactly how obscene an amount of money were you talking about?" C: Just profane or really offensive. Cue the music! They were in perfect harmony. A serene, superfluous, serendipity. And everything worked itself out in the end. "The end justifies the means"

Meanwhile Mal visited her Mom in the sanitarium. Mal's mother was always a different person. Dr. Samdi Facilier explains to Mal that her mother is now magically exhibiting symptoms of dissociative identity disorder (DID). From a Kristin to Susanne, Lois and Rajia. And even a Bradless Angie with killer cheekbones. Angie was a Dragon Lady who was Mad as an Ox at some imaginary Stefan King who took advantage of her and cut off her will to fly free. Then she was on a branchless tree contemplating never having been invited to some christening. She was a Pitt off her Brangelina Jolie. Finally she turned into a Wicked, itty-bitty sized Purple Rain greenhorn Lizzie, with love for Broadway and singing hearty showtunes. Mellifluous voice urging Mal to join her in a duet.... Before they explore the jungles and icebergs Gil & Jay had to meet the parents. Gil introduced Jay to his prodigious dad and his blonde bombshell fourth wife Laurette. His breathtakingly beautiful mother Agathe lives with them in polyamory. Then he introduced Jay to his smouldering older twin brothers and stepbrothers. The rambunctious Loud House is all Yours, Mine & Ours. Gil's dad was a boorish Frenchman named Gaston LeGume, from Gascony, who gave Jay a big bear hug. G: Welcome to the family! There's just no one like Gaston! With his powerful baritenor voice and striking features, an extremely athletic build "roughly the size of a barge", a cleft chin, and a handsome appearance. Icy blue eyes and hairy chest. Let's not forget a big booty. His black hair is long and tied into a ponytail. "As a specimen, yes I'm intimidating!" And still looks like a tall 25 year old! He is a He-Man "a strong, virile or sexually active man." Dare I say it he resembles a gay bear porn star studly stallion. Gaston believed himself to be a Student Prince in training, a marquis (French nobleman). Gaston is pals with Claude Frollo, the Minister of Justice of Paris. He owns a large tavern with antler decorations, together with his loyal lovestruck lackey LeFou in Fantasyland. Gaston may have been the villain in his own twisted tale, but made up for it by being the best damn Dad in the world. Gil was clearly his favorite among the litter, being the youngest and all. “The good needs fear no law, It is his safety and the bad man's awe.” There's just nothing better than being welcomed with open arms and accepted regardless of your race or sexuality. Speaking of accepting, Jay was ready to face the music and finally swallowed his pride and went back home, tail between his legs, with his hunky boyfriend in tow. Everyone was shocked at first but welcomed them regardless. Not least of all was Jay's granddad Hamed who started to cry. Jay was stoic. Jasmine tried to comfort Jay by telling him that her dad is just very old-fashioned and deeply religious. But then Hamed began bursting into laughter. People thought he had gone insane, but it turns out that Hamed had been living a lie all these years. He too was GAY! The look on everyone's faces were priceless. Hamed hugged both Jay and Gil tightly. Thanking them for being so brave in the face of so much scrutiny and adversity. "Now I can finally be my true authentic self." Ali always suspected there was just something off about the sultan, and now he knows why. To err is human; to forgive, divine.

Evie and Regina went to visit her, decades younger than Regina, father Hunter in prison. Hunter Herne Fowler who is devastatingly handsome and robust, just so happens to be a spitting image of Chris Hemsworth. H: How's my lovely girl? E&R in unison: I'm, I've... E: I believe he was talking to me mother. Regina rolls her eyes. E: I'm doing great dad. I'm doing exactly what I love. Fashion design. And I have a boyfriend. H: It isn't that odd little fella... Dopey Doc is it? E: His name is Doug, and No! We're not dating. R: Thank God! I almost had an aneurysm with that one. I pictured my statuesque Evelyn with a prince and not a garden Gnomeo. E: Doug is not short! And he's a beautiful soul. R: More like a soul-sucking pariah, like his tribe of Smurfs! E: Blue is my favorite color. R: Spoken like a true Avatar. Your a smokeshow not a burnout. Inner beauty is for Ugly Betty's. The only reason you even deigned to speak with that owl is because his mama died. And you took pity on the poor bird. E: That's not true. He was always kind to me. R: He's a Shrek to your Fiona. He'll just wreck your fine Sharona. E: What? R: He'll drag you under the bridge! Just like his Papa Smurf did with his leggy Smurfette. The pretty harlot couldn't find her prince so she settled for a dwarf star instead. She exhausted her nuclei and crashed and burned into a Death Star. Your a catch, not a cancer! The dweeb would have Zapped you with his Napoleon Dynamite. You deserve so much better and should never, ever, settle for less than superior. E: Can you please stop being so Gargamel judgmental. R: I'm not. I'm being brutally honest and the truth hurts. I'm Mama-terial Girl and if they don't give me proper credit, I just walk awa-ay. H: Um. E: Can you walk away from this conversation then? R: But it's a fact! I saw it all unfold in that tacky little reality show they did called The 7Ds. She was a double D who fell for an F-ing failure. A gypsy Esmeralda and her no backbone Quasimodo. At least their progeny found his GladWare. I'm just glad that's finally history, it was wearing me out. You jumped the gun with that one but hit the bull's-eye. E: This is why the only people in your life who can stand your BS are Dad and Zane! H: Ah, so how are you coping these days, Victoria? E: Victoria? R: Victory was a long time ago. Once upon a time in a faraway kingdom. I'm Regina now, Regina George! E: No wonder your so Plastic! R: To answer your question Hunter, I've seen better days. I had to resort to some cutbacks. Downsizing wasn't exactly what I signed up for. This is all your fault! H: If you didn't waste all that money I gave you on a Mayoral campaign near a mill by the brook, then maybe you'd still be sitting pretty right now. R: The story of my life. I'm a Queen! I need to reign supreme over my subjects. Not be subjected to squalor! Now I have to scrape by working as a bartender at Roni's. E: So dad, you look like you've been getting enough iron. Last time I saw you, you were a tad bit Jamie Dornan. And now you look like a literal Thunder God! H: I've been working out a lot. R: I stay trim by avoiding looking like Kathy Najimy. I once Marveled at your Mighty Hammer. A feral Simba ThunderCats Ho! (lost in thought, in reverie) Anyway can you work out a way to repay us? H: Actually I have some good news. Due to good behavior, I could be getting an earlier parole. My hearing is in a few short weeks. Fingers crossed, everything runs smoothly. Who knows? I could be walking you down the aisle sweetheart. And who is the lucky gentleman? E: His name is Carlos, he's actually my boss. H: Your boss! R: I hear he's richer than the Hermès family. But behaves like a Bieber. E: It's just an act. Deep down he's really sweet and tender. R: Sounds like a crispy poisoned apple. H: Sounds like my princess is in love. E: He seems like the one. H: Well you better show him who's the real boss. R: Moi! Evie rolls her eyes. H: This reminds me of when you were little, and we'd play hide and seek. You always liked running towards our apple grove. But then you tripped on a poisoned oak and knocked yourself out cold. I had to carry you in my arms and kiss you awake. R: That was creepy AF. E: You were my knight in shining armor. R: Again super awkward. (slight pause) I've been seeing this guy named Robert Locksley... H&E both stare blankly at Regina. Guard: TIMES UP! Evie then followed up with countless interviews from the press. Carlos is the face of HOD but Evie became his spokesperson. Carlos rarely did interviews and let the work speak for itself. When he did speak it was usually in succinct iambic pentameters. For brevity is the soul of wit. Carlos visited his dad's sparkly guitar shaped sepulchre in Angel Grove and spoke to him in hushed tones. Fearing the papzz could overhear him. He talked about finding the right girl and how much he wished that he could have known him. He recalled watching VH1 Behind the Music and saw parallels with his dad in their struggle to make it. Victor Libby managed to stay afloat and then floated into the heavens, but Carlos sank and tanked in the music industry. But found solace in the glittering Glamorama geosphere of glamour. For all that glitters is the gold standard of golden star gift from the gods of fashion. His true calling. As Carlos embraced his father's tombstone, the tears began to fall. As the profound meaning and purpose of life, loss and the pursuit of happiness took it's toll. Carlos needed a hug right there and then. Or even a sign. When out of nowhere a kaleidoscope of monarch butterflies descended atop Carlos' head like a crown of glory. Sitting on a throne of black and white with a ready and willing royal ruler. As if being kissed from the heavens by his father. For Carlos is the King of his own little Kingdom. 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. C: Thank you dad! But another surprise came charging at him. A yellow terrier puppy followed by Evie. E: I found this stray dog just following me and thought of maybe adopting it. What do you think? C: I think it found us. E: What should we call it then? I was thinking maybe Buddy. C: It's a Dude! As they struggled with the name, the butterflies circled around them. They drove off in Carlos' black Lamborghini Diablo. Evie had rescued Carlos from the abyss of fabrication and was to reward her in kind. But not before absolution. A hooded man hiding in the bushes with a zoom lens camera, captures the trio for posterity's sake. The jig is up, Carlos feared the worst for his subterfuge. But the image didn't deter sales and Carlos' stock didn't plummet. Apropos it actually increased revenue tenfold and the haters began to dissipate. Carlos appeared on myriad magazine covers like Fortune with the lead article; "Mogul of the Millenium!", WIRED with "Autodidact Tech Wiz", Top Gear with "Live Fast, Die for Carlos' Car Collection", Men's Journal with "Diary of a Well-Being Kid", Men's Fitness with "FIT FOR FASHION!", Time with "Face of the Future", Esquire with "CARLITO'S WAY!", GQ with "Carlos de Vil: The Style For All Seasons", Forbes with "Youngest Trillionaire!", and People with "Most Beautiful"; Carlos is seen laughing covered in an assortment of puppies. As Carlos enters his red Ferrari, he accidentally steps on a torn InStyle page with Cruella gazing up at him. He takes the glossy and speaks to it. C: Your always in my periphery. Watching from the great beyond. I know this isn't exactly what you would've wanted from me, but I can't keep burrowing down the rabbit hole. I need to be better than that. I'm so sorry. You've given me so much. Your my style inspiration. Despite what people say about you, I'll never stop loving you, Mummy! I just wish you could be proud of me. A single tear fell on Cruella's red fur bomber jacket. Carlos carefully folded it into a rose and placed it in his breast pocket like a stylish Polly pocket square. As the paragon drove into the sunset. An Oxalis deppei (four-leaf clover) attached itself onto the Vanity License Plate 'CARLOS.' "Even in the most difficult situation there is always, somehow, a way to triumph."

Then it was time for another auspicious fashion extravaganza. During another runway show where the paradigms paraded down the catwalk wearing Evie's fabulous creations. To a mash-up of Bowie and Gaga's FASHION! International Supermodel Celia opened the show in a candy colored printed jacket with an attached faux shirt with collar Satin bowtie and matching leggings with panels of vibrant patterns. Plus maroon fingerless gloves and a top hat headband. Jay and Gil strutted down holding hands with their ponytails intertwined with each other. Jay was wearing a scaly reptilian tux with stiff, hard, pointy edged lapels and snake tails, while Gil was in a gilded open vest and jodhpurs. Ending with a chest bump! The polar opposite of Thing One Tweedy deedum catty bird and Sylvester the lone Stallion too. Mal and Ben sashayed their way next in juxtaposition gender-bending garb. Mal was wearing a lilac/lavender tracksuit, while Ben was in a kilt and long camisole. Doug, looking like a goofy duck penguin SquarePants, and Jane, in fairly odd pantaloons, were NOT on stage but seating comfortably as guests. So were Ben's parents in regal attire, Regina in a long gown with Zane dressed as a mirrorball, Hunter released from prison on probation in stripes. Next to Regina's boy toy Robert who was eyeing Hunter up in a deep green hoodie and chocolate brown corduroy. Hades in a leather jacket and fiery hair with girlfriend Zelena (half-sister of Regina and Black Widow of the West) in spring sequined bodice and a fitted floor length skirt with flared hemline; and a matching stylish green hat and green pendant necklace. Gaston and Laurette and the rest of Gil's gorgeous kin in sexy tight-fitting clothes. As well as Carlos' former bandmates Chad, in a newspaper suit and charcoal cravat, with his on/off publicity hungry GF Audrey, in neon puce, Pucci pastels and platforms. And Harry with his tough as nails boss Uma, in awash aquatic art deco. Harry is grinning like the Cheshire Cat in a pirate hat, breeches and guyliner. Even Jay's ex Lonnie came to support wearing an oriental origami dress and Ali & Jasmine in Arabian Nights inspired attire. Jasmine is holding up a tablet for Hamed to enjoy the show at home. Hamed was hoot-hooting and hollering for his only grandson. The heir apparent to his vast fortune. The showstopper was Evie in a stunning royal blue wedding gown accompanied by Carlos, resplendent in his black and white with a hint of red tuxedo. They looked like the perfect bride and groom. And so Carlos had the bright idea to make it official by going down on one knee and proposing. Much to the surprise of everyone in attendance. Carlos pulls out a 45.52-carat Fancy Deep Blue stone, which once upon a time belonged to his mother. Of course she says yes! And Carlos grabs his bride-to-be and plants a spellbinding true loves kiss. Awakening the senses like the hills are alive with the sound of music. And a magical fairy dust sprinkled, wonderful world of Disney, fairytale happy ending. A Jane Austen's Emma or a chick flick laden Clueless! A Midsummer Night's Dream. Captured by FTV, MTV, TMZ, E!, ET, BBC, CNN and seen everywhere.

A strikingly, overdressed woman in a deluxe veiled hat looks intently at the couple. Eyeing them suspiciously with long sharp nailed ruby gloves and six-inch spiked heels. The mystery modish has taken refuge in her very own beautiful isolated island in Tuscany, Italy and is about four square miles in size, off the coast of Marseille. Complete with a castellated creepy castle, which she purchased long ago from a marchetta (word for a boy who has no work, no money, but lives very well without them) named Paolo Valisari and renamed it I'isola di Crudelta. She has stolen the identity of editor-in-chief of Your Thing, a Bratzy glamour mag, Burdine Maxwell. Burdine was the former fashion editor at BLUSH magazine. She left (fired) and founded her own beauty and style publication. She is presumed to be deceased. The identity theft is now in charge and has taken the fashion bible to new heights. Outselling Allure, Cosmopolitan, ELLE, Glamour, Harper's Bazaar, InStyle, Marie Claire, Tatler, Vanity Fair, W Magazine and Vogue. The powerful Miranda Priestley is accompanied by her joined at the hip twincestuous assistants Kirstee and KC. The blonde, blue eyed Flowers in the Attic Dresden dolls are fifty shades of freaky fuchsia pink pubescence. A Pinkie Pie Barbie & Ken or Sharpay & Ryan. In a moment the Reigning Queen of Fashion will take back her throne in a bloody battle of wits and style. Never the twain shall meet. But they will and they must! In the school for good and evil the outcome is always predictable, but in the superficial surround of style consequently the victor is always the most shallow. New + nice = neutered nicht. Faux or faux pa has no place in the furr-ocious future of fashion. Imitation is to mimic warrantied fraud. Fashion exists in the material world. Those who oppose this can take a ship to Uranus. You can preach about good but if your covered in couture then you must be false advertisement. Cleanliness is not literally next to godliness. Dirt is rich but gold can be deceiving. A return to the dark badass bitchery. The light goods are sold in the competitive commerce of consumerism. The De Vil wears Product Placement and puppy pelt. The Angel wears a blank canvas. Raggedy Quasimodo is often overlooked for Princely Beast. It's the nature of the Beast to nurture it's coat. I Love Lucy and Everybody Hates Chris. Maleficence trumps benevolence in ironic altruistic fashion. Beauty can be misleading but ugly can be equally fake. The true original designer brand has the better quality. Cheap knockoffs get knocked off the competition. But the quantity of young, hip and fit can make a quantum leap to qualify for the finals. The triumphant will walk the narrow runway and strike a pose in a blaze of glory to the roaring sounds of applause. When she falls, she picks herself up again and claws her way back to the very top. You wanna be on top? Don't stop. Na na na na. Gird your loins and God save the Queen! The Heathens and Means Girls are in for a Jawbreaking Cruel Intentions. Down with the dregs and say hello to your high priestess. Our cruel clotheshorse has taken a page from morbidly gratuitous Wednesday Addams by sending her gratitude to her darling PETA critics with the perfect package full of radioactive rashes riddled rodents, venomous vipers and toxic tarantulas. Using a hidden spy cam she posted, in all types of social media platforms, their humiliating shrieks and excruciating attacks. The sonorous sweet smell of successful sarcasm. Poetic justice or spiteful vengeance? "The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside, Couldn't keep it in, heaven knows I've tried. Don't let them in, don't let them see, Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know. I don't care what they're going to say, Let the storm rage on. No right, no wrong, no rules for me. You'll never see me cry. Here I stand and here I stay. The clothes never bothered me anyway." Strike while the iron is hot. But patience is a virtue. In a social commentary or allegory for the needs of the want vs. what the heart needs? In high camp costumes by Anthony Powell, Kara Saun, Eduardo Castro and Jenny Beavan. For what is love but the desire to be cherished unconditionally. "Carlos come cheer and comfort to conclusively complete me!" The force is strong with this one. And like all fairytales, love conquers all. And I do mean the Disneyfied version and not the originals. Some may refuse to change but the bond between a mother and son lasts a lifetime. In due time and leave with lingering questions. Nothing is certain but death and taxes, but if you cheat the system you redeem the everlasting host....

.... "When a star dies, its light continues to shine across the universe for milleniums... who made every moment count and the lives he touched will continue to be brightened by his light... forever... and ever..." "Everything you are, every smile, every laugh, every dance, every hug, every moment, everyone you touched ... you mean everything to us." "No one deals with grief the same way, You'll feel better with hugs, support, hope, time." "Who is looking down upon us today, dancing like only he knew how, laughing like only he (in the whole world) could make us laugh, and smiling as if every day was heaven on earth." "I didn't realize that I had as deep a place for pain to come from, that the shock and awe of this unfathomable idea of losing this beautiful soul, with such promise to this world, could possibly be real."

"A life lost is the proverbial conundrum but to accept the things you cannot change. Have the courage to change the things you can... and have the wisdom to know the difference."

"Here's looking at you, kid."

(This is my tribute to Cameron Boyce who was taken from us way too soon. I wanted a more realistic setting instead of a fairytale world. But still felt magical in the world of haute couture. Not a brilliant writer just a clueless imaginative dreamer. I hope Cameron appreciates this.)