10 sleeps part 2

Ok, I've written about Big A and I've written about Big E [ha!] but I've never written about the Prez, so here's one for him.

Year: 1991
Location: the attic
Time of year: Hallowe'en

Hallowe'en is huge in Canada. Everyone loves to participate.. regardless if you are three years old and wearing your first Spiderman costume or whether you are a 17 year old high school student desperate for an outfit so you can go out and collect candy / get drunk with your mates.

So brings us to this tale. The Prez and I shared the attic of the family home in the Hammer ... I had the room at the front of the house, he had the room at the back with the staircase (we both wanted that and whined to my dad about it, who used his gentle fatherly skills to tell us to 'fight it out, but no bleeding on the furniture', which we did, which I lost, and for which I have been practicing martial arts for four years in order to avenge the loss of the room with the staircase... but that's another story). It was after school, he was in his room listening to Metallica, I was in my room listening to Madonna. He came into my room, in a cloud of cigarette and marijuana smoke, and said that he needed help picking out an outfit and could I help him.

He wanted to dress as a prostitute, you see.

Now, don't think it's weird. The men on my dad's side - all of them - have a thing about dressing up in crazy 'feminine' outfits when drunk. It never fails ... half a Coors Lite in and they start demanding taffeta and feathers. Anyway, the Prez wanted to go out as a prostitute for Hallowe'en. And, clearly, he thought my wardrobe contained items that were suitable to fulfill this costume requirement.

Soooo... we trawled through my wardrobe. We found a nice, tight, black embroidered Guess miniskirt, a pair of black stilletto heels, a low-cut gold lame tank top and some gawdy costume jewellery. Now, on their own and paired with appropriate pieces, these items were not 'skanky'. Combined... we had hit the payload! It was skanky! It was slutty! It reeked of low classed-ness! It demanded a 5 dollar bill to be thrown at it! Then, I did the Prez's make up. Red lip stick, dark dark gaudy eyes. I gave him a quick lesson on how to Strut in those stillettoes.

Satisfied with his outfit and complete transformation into the quintessential Prostitute, off he went, strutting down the street, hips a-sashay-ing, dreaklocks a-glitter-ing, shoulders a-strutt-ing. He saw his friend walking towards him, so he strutted a bit more. His friend passed him, with hardly a second glance, said "Hey T-Lo" and kept walking.

WTF?!