No dress within my grasp made me wanna grab it and go. The brocade number at home would need an armload of grease and a second pair of hands to get on. What to do , what to do.
Mrs. Heimlich Mortimer -
I left Mr. Mortimer at home that evening, comatose in the vinyl barcalounger that he makes his horizontal home. I sipped from a small flask so that I was fortified to deal with the night's shenanigans. Those young whippersnappers couldn't get anything past me - inebriated or not.My accent was a little broad, my humor even broader. Some friends (giggle) didn't even know it was me.
Prom Night was never so good.