Sometimes I like to hide from my mom all day and bury myself deep within the bowels of one of her two closets, underneath who knows how many layers of stuff that's stacked and piled and even kind of just tossed in there. It's like an archaeological dig, I tell you! In fact, one morning last week I was hobnobbing with Java Man in there. I asked him if he'd like a cup of java, but then realized that sounded a bit cannabilistic. It turns out he didn't even know what java was and said he'd just take a cup of Sleepytime, thank mew. After only a few sips, he was out like a light! And let me tell mew, boys and girls, JAVA MAN SNORES. I swear a little feather materialized out of nowhere and floated above his ample schnoz as he wheezed his way through dreamland!
So, anyway, after he fell asleep, I was in the closet, doing what I do best, which is NOTHING. And then, for some reason that even I can't quite understand, I felt the irrepressible need to bolt from the closet, right past my mom's chair, where she was working. I was low to the ground, hoping she wouldn't see me, even though I'm pretty hard to miss. She heard me, though, and spun around just in time to see me try to disappear under another chair several feet away to her left.
"Dashy! Are you dashing?" she asked. "What are mew doing? And what are mew doing with my dress draped over mewr back?"
It was true, guys. Sorta. See, while I was in the closet, I decided to try on some of the stuff she doesn't wear that often. I'd been eying this particularly elegant black dress that she thinks puts her in the same league as Audrey Hepburn, and I thought it might look good on me too, especially since it has a twirly skirt which would disguise my ample bum. (My mom would like mew all to know that she herself doesn't have an ample bum. She says the only way I can even think about using her computer to tell mew about the dress is if I make that a-bun-dantly clear!)
So, mew know how when mew hold something up to mewrself to see if it would look cute on mew, it's just not the same as actually putting it on? Well, that's what I did. I put the dress on. I crawled up through the bottom of the dress, and in trying to properly put it on, managed to wedge the neck part around my waist. I wanted to dash to the mirror to see if I could make sense out of the way this dress works (why can't these things be EASY???), and that's when she saw me.
"Oh! I thought the dress was just draped on mewr back!" she said with about 52 exclamation points, laughing like a hyena and jumping up out of her chair to reclaim her precious dress. "I didn't realize mew were actually wearing it!" She had a bit of difficulty unwedging me from the stupid thing. I knew she was concerned about ripping the delicate fabric, but she took special care to extricate me with a minimal amount of damage to either me or the dress.
Is it my fault she has such a scrawny neck that it can't even accommodate my delicate 18 pounds?
P.S. For the record, the dress looks better on ME. I wish Java Man had been awake to appreciate it!