The signs of spring are undeniable! In addition to the obviously budding trees and greening grass, scads of prom invites started coming in a few months ago. Considering I've attended proms every year of my life--despite the fact I'm home-schooled, I decided this year that I needed a well-deserved break and would sit the bench this prom season.
That decision lasted all of 2 minutes.
The neighbor cat, Shmuley, is a junior this year. His mom, concerned that, due to his crippling shyness, he was still dateless 2 days before the dance, brokered a deal with my mom for me to accompany him. I always suspected my mom's pimp hand was strong! Saturday morning, when she came to deliver the news, this was confirmed.
"Kukka, isn't Shmuley a great kitten? So cute and cuddly! What would you think about going to his senior prom with him?"
Rolling my eyes, I responded, "Whatever."
"You'll have fun! Shmuley's mom has already bought your corsage and they will be by to pick you up at 7:00 pm."
"7:00 pm?!" I shouted. "I have only 10 hours to get ready! Have you called Jonathan Antin to do my hair? What about Stella...can she design something for me on such short notice?"
"Um...listen. You've been a little enthusiastic lately with my credit card, so we're going to go the budget route for this prom. No professional hair stylist, no make-up artists, no custom-designed gowns," responded mom.
"I don't understand."
Mom opened the closet and pulled out a pink taffeta gown, purchased at the local mall. I was furious! If I was going to have to attend this thing, the least she could do is provide me with some haute couture! The gown from the mall had feathers, fringe and a built-in bra for only two nipples! What the hell was I supposed to do? Let my other nipples flap in the wind?
"I'm not going."
"Yes, you are. I've already made the commitment to Mrs. Lipshitz--you are not backing out of this."
With that, she picked me up and carried me to the bathroom, where le makeover de la maman began. Simply put: When it comes to feline beauty, my mother is clueless! I said nothing when she put the hot rollers in. I stayed silent as she meticulously applied the sky-blue eyeshadow and "Fresh as a Rose" rouge. I did, however, draw the line when she took false eyelashes out of the drawer! The last time I wore false eyelashes in public, the tabloids had a field day when they thought they were made of mink! "Kukka-Maria Kills Minks for Fashion!" was the headline in every reputable gossip magazine and paper. I will never risk that again! The hate-mail from Pamela Anderson, alone, was enough to give me an ulcer!
Promptly at 7:00 pm, the doorbell rang. When my mom opened the door, there stood Mrs. Lipshitz, holding a tuxedo-clad Shmuley in a pet carrier. She came inside, set the carrier on the floor and opened the metal door. Timidly, Shmuley emerged with a corsage in his paw.
"You look beautiful, Kukka-Maria!"
"Thank you, Shmuley," I said, offering an obligatory ass-sniff.
"I need to get my camera!" exclaimed my mother.
After what seemed like hours, and squillions of contrived poses, Shmuley and I get into the pet carrier and were on our way to the prom.
When we pulled up to the school, Shmuley pled with his mom, "Mom...puh-leeeease! Please drop us off here! If my friends see me and my hot date being let out of a pet carrier in front of the school, they will never let me live it down! Please, Mom! I have a reputation to protect!"
"It's true, Mrs. Lipshitz! The president of the Science Studs is the most revered member of the student body!" I mumbled sarcastically under my breath.
She let us out a block away. I made Shmuley carry me so my dress wouldn't drag on the sidewalk. Plus, contrary to what one might think, it is not easier to balance in dyed, satin heels when you are walking on four legs!
We danced all night long! While Shmuley may not be the most popular, attractive, or outgoing cat, I've never seen anyone do a better Robot than he did! We were having a great time, until we stopped for a water and kibble break. Things got a little awkward then.
I had just come out of the ladies litterbox, when I was approached by Stewie, my former stalker.
"Whatsgoinon, Kukka?" a drunk Stewie stammered.
"Uh...hi, Stewie. How are things?"
Gesturing toward an obviously pregnant tabby cat in a gown made of the gawdiest yellow satin I have ever seen, Stewie asked, "Have you met my super-sexy date? Her name is Kukka-Maria."
"My name is Dawn, Stewie. If I have to remind you of that fact one more time, I am going to call my boyfriend and ask him to come get me," she curtly replied, rolling her eyes.
"Shaddup, Dawn!" exclaimed Stewie. "You're nothing but a slut! We all know this is your third litter in the last year!"
Dawn took off crying as Stewie vomited down the front of his rented tuxedo. "Crap! Now I won't get my deposit back!" he exclaimed as he stumbled down the hall.
Turning to Shmuley, I said, "Well, there is a lesson learned! Mixing hairball remedy with wine-in-a-box is not a good idea."
"That's what you learned?" Shmuley chuckled. "I thought the real lesson was that it's probably not the best idea to bring a date, in her third trimester, to the prom--and call her by another woman's name!"
"Word!" I exclaimed, laughing.
Doing The Robot again, Shmuley suggested we get back out on the dance floor. I grabbed his paw and we headed toward the large, mirrored disco ball in the center of the room.
At 10:30 pm, Mrs. Lipshitz arrived to pick us up. "Mo-o-o-o-om..." Shmuley whined, as his mother opened the door to the pet carrier. "Can't we just ride in the back seat without the carrier?"
"Schmoopy, you know you are too small and precious for Mommy to just throw you in the car--unrestrained! And what would Kukka's mommy say if something happened to her beautiful baby kitty?" Mrs. Lipshitz crooned sweetly as she guided us into the carrier.
When Mrs. Lipshitz opened the carrier at my house to drop me off, I turned to Shmuley and thanked him for a lovely evening.
"I had a good time, Shmuley," I coyly meowed.
"Word!" exclaimed, launching into what could, by now, be considered his signature move--The Robot.
"Uh, Shmuley? While the lessons we learned from Stewie earlier were valuable, I think the real lesson of the night is to know when to retire The Robot," I advised.
"You're probably right..." he mumbled.
I gave him an affectionate head butt and exited the pet carrier quickly. I couldn't get that atrocious make-up and hideous dress off of me fast enough!
While I would never admit this to my mother, I did not hate the prom this year. And, while Shmuley isn't boyfriend material for me, the boy can get down! I will have to teach him some new moves, though, before his senior prom...