Meeoww ! Fur flies as purr-plexed teen shows her claws
NOOOO! God, it can't be! The Wolverine raises a horrified face from her mobile. Rachel's going to the fancy dress disco as a cat!
Your daughter has spent hours frantically shopping for a feline ensemble for under €20. So far the outfit constitutes one black mini-skirt, one billowy white top, a pair of cat earrings and some borrowed high heels.
"That's nice," you say brightly, "the two of you can go as cats together!"
"Noooooo," the Wolverine howls.
"Rachel's, like, modelesque. She always looks brilliant!"
And, with a dark glance in your direction: "Plus she always has loads of money, too -- her parents are seriously generous. She'll look way better than me! She's probably been buying bits of her outfit, for, like, a week."
Your daughter emits a sudden shriek as a horrid thought strikes.
"And I couldn't get cat ears! I was thinking about making them out of cardboard! I can't do that if Rachel's going as a cat. She's probably got a catsuit. She's probably even got a tail!"
You suggest that if the situation is really as critical as all that, your daughter should re-style as a witch -- there's bound to be a pointy hat somewhere around the house.
"But," cries the Wolverine, "I've already bought the diamonds for my whiskers!"
Later that evening, you drop the Wolverine off at the house where she's meeting her friends before the disco. It's a big, complex building, whose rear is accessed by a long, curving driveway from a country road.
The main gate is locked, however.
The Wolverine instantly flies into panic mode. She'll have to text the daughter of the house to ask how to get in. She can't ring, she's got no credit! You point to another, smaller gate a few yards up the road. It leads directly to the brightly lit front porch of the house. "I can't go up and knock there," she mews. "I've never gone in that gate before. They probably wouldn't hear me. Their house is, like, humongous!
"You'll just have to stay here with me until Rachel texts back and tells us what to do."
She sits there texting frantically, cardboard cat ears wobbling. You stare at her disbelievingly for a long moment. Then you get out of the car, march through the little gate up to the porch and ring the bell.
Clackety-clack, go the Wolverine's heels as she totters furiously up the path behind you.
"How could you do this to me?" she hisses as the door is opened by a shrieking teenager in a catsuit.
"Heyyyyyy, Rachel!!!!!!! You look fab!"
You drive home.
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