Enchantment Under the Sea

"Dance with me my dear, on a floor of bones and skulls. The music is our master, the devil controls our souls. Swirling and swirling with the music all our turning, swaying to the sounds of a demonic beat." TSOL from "Dance With Me"

Just before I was set to drift off to sleep last night the nurse came into my room in a stunning strapless gravity defying gown with a fragrant purple orchid corsage covering most of her plastic surgery. It was a sight that my stoned eyes wasn't at all sure was real upon initial glance, but the angry look on her mug was all the assurance I needed, reality can be exquisite from time to time. What was the occasion, I pondered? Was she a hell spawn Bridesmaid for a fellow succubus? Was she the first prize in a Dirty Whore Auction with the proceeds going to some wretched charity? No. The reality was far more entertaining. For the sum of $1000 she was going to be the prom date of a local high schools Chess Club founder. As I billowed laughter I thought of my own prom.

Here's something you need to understand about high school, my luck and skills with the feminine side of the locker room is the same now as it was then. Once in a while the blind squirrel gets a nut, but for the most part I'm an abject failure when in comes to the dames. A hideous combination of lack of confidence and unsightly body mass. So for me prom was an event to be scorned, shunned, laughed about, and in quiet alone times cried over. Alright you caught me, I never cried over it, but I certainly wasn't interested in attending the "Night of 1000 Rufie's" celebration that the alma mater prepared for a whopping $75 a bid. I'm sure if I tried I could have scrounged up a date, but why throw $75, plus dinner and a limo, at a girl who was obviously not going to be the pick of the litter? No I left my dance card empty. Besides Wayne and I had a better plan.

The only reason Wayne and I ventured to the Hyatt in Long Beach that night was that we had heard the most provocative rumor. Don was dyeing his hair blue to match his date, and future wife's, dress. A fashion statement that bold would rival Bjork showing up to the Oscars in the Duck dress. It was something that had to be seen.

The thing about the Hyatt is that the old MHS prom was on the second floor and you had to take an escalator to get there. Of course to keep riff-raff like Wayne and I out the escalator was being guarded like it was the Vestal Virgin stronghold. You had to pay for a bid to get up the magic moving stairway and of course be in "proper attire". We were in jeans and T-shirts, I only wish that TshirtHell.com was around then because this story would rock so much harder if at the time I was wearing a shirt that said "I fucked the Olsen Twins before they were Famous" (yes, I own that shirt). Regardless, we didn't look like a couple of Dapper Dandy's so the escalator to Heaven wasn't open to us, but the service elevator took you right to the main room if you had the sack to try it.

When the doors opened the look on Vice Principle Dick Pierce's face, okay it was Richard, but come on what would you have called him, but his shock was worth the possibility of expulsion. After being seen by a very scant few, though enough to make it known that the prom had indeed been crashed, we were escorted back down to the lobby where we were greeted by Christine Anne Basch, guidance counselor extraordinaire. She smiled the grin of a woman proud of her little mischief makers, but then scolded us as was her job. After assuring her that we meant no harm, we just wanted to see Don, she slightly hesitated but then she relented as always. She went and found him. As he descended down the escalator like a blue haired Republican at a fund raiser, we applauded then left those who were $75 lighter in the pocket to enjoy their paid for memory and premeditated date rape.

What was your prom like? Who did you go with? Was it worth it?

Dixie Cup of Love: Christine Basch.