Prom Night

After being refused by man, woman, and beast alike, Marvin found himself without date for the high school prom. In an act of desperation, he asked me if I would go with him.
“I’ll pick you up in a limo,” Marvin said, trying to coerce me. I eventually agreed but I had to get my tuxedo dry cleaned first.
“Oh no, you can’t wear a tuxedo,” said Marvin. “You must wear my mother’s gown from her prom. I promised her, you see, that my date would wear it.”
“I can’t wear a ball gown, I’d feel ridiculous,” I protested.
“Fine,” said Marvin. “You don’t have to. But don’t expect to stand a chance of being named Belle and Beau of the Ball.”
I stared back at him, blankly.
“Forget it,” he said, unnerved by my expression. “But then I won’t go either.”  
“Alright,” I groaned. Marvin could be very manipulative at times.

On the night of the prom, Marvin didn’t pick me up in a limo, but that didn’t surprise me. His mother’s dress did fit me quite beautifully though, and despite Marvin dressed in an ill-fitting suit with greasy hair, I had to admit that we made a handsome couple.
“I hope you like lobster mornay,” he said, opening the car door for me. “Prepare yourself for the night of your life!”

That was the nicest thing that Marvin said to me all evening. If I had my time again, I think I would have turned down Marvin’s request. He is a great man, but once Marvin gets himself into a bad mood there is very little that I, or anyone, can do to pacify him. And his mood on that night can only be described as filthy. He did ask me to the formal with the best of intentions, so who am I to complain? But that formal was unequivocally the worst date I have ever been on.

At dinner, Marvin spilled his lobster mornay down the front of his shirt, leaving him reeking. When we danced later it was almost unbearable, and because he refused to eat his lobster with cutlery, his hands were all oily and my hand kept slipping out of his.

However, Marvin was at his worst at the end of the evening when the Belle and Beau of the Ball were announced.
“This is all your fault!” Marvin growled at me when we were overlooked. “Belle of the ball, what was I thinking?”
“I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to give you an enjoyable time!” I snapped back at him. “I wore your mother’s old sea bag, didn’t I?” Perhaps it was beneath me to say that, but I was angry. Marvin fumed. His face went red, and his eyes bulged.
 “You don’t deserve to wear that dress. You shame my dear mother, you little hussy!” he shouted, pointing his finger at me. “Now give it back!” Marvin lunged at me and took a firm hold of the dress. With a horrible tearing sound it split down the back and fell to the floor. Marvin scooped up the dress and bundled it in his arms.
“You owe me thirty-five dollars for the lobster!” he called over his shoulder as he left the building, leaving me shivering in my underwear.

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