Stuck at Prom Without a Date

I suppose I should explain my lack of blog entries. I am a jerk. I think that sums it up.

Actually, the truth is that the more blogs I wrote, the more I realized I am not much of a blogger. I am more of a book writer. And if I am going to spend my time writing, I should be spending it working on my book, right? So that is what I have been doing instead of updating my blog. I have been writing a story for months and months that I have not yet allowed anyone to read. Because it is not ready. But the time will come, someday.

The reason I am writing today, is that I have a story that needs to be told.

And here it is:

Brother F woke me up one Sunday morning telling me he wants to go to prom wearing a duct tape tuxedo. I told him that was a fine idea, go ahead and do that, and I turned over to go back to sleep.

He, however, was not so easily deterred. He coerced me into going downstairs with him to look at the winners from last year.

"What winners?" I asked.

"It is a contest," he said excitedly. "I could win a $3000 scholarship. Stuck at prom dot com."

We went downstairs and looked. All the possibilities I had been mulling over were soon thrown out the window. These outfits were incredible!!! We would have to pull out all the creative stops.

So I began drawing everything my sluggish brain could conjure up. Cartoon people? Futuristic people? Everything seemed lame compared to what had been done before. Until we had a brain storm. This would work!!!

Brother F grabbed my hand and screamed while crushing it. I assumed that meant he was really excited. He knew just who he was going to ask too.

That day at church he asked her.

She said yes. That would be really fun.

He asked if she could come over on Tuesday to help.

She said yes.

Tuesday came. We began the costumes.

He texted her. Asking if she was coming over.

She said she was really sorry, but these things came up, so she wouldn't be able to help Tuesday or Wednesday. But after that she totally could, and she was totally sorry.

Brother F shrugged. "Okay," he said, "I guess she can come over on Friday, and we can work then."

We worked long into the night that Tuesday. Practically finishing Brother F's outfit in one day, minus the details. We would have to wait for his date before we started her outfit.

That Friday Brother F asked his date if she could still come over that day after school.

She said yes, that would be fine.

He asked her again at lunch if she was still planning on coming over that afternoon.

She said yes.

Lunch ended, and Brother F was sitting in History when he recieved a text.

It was her.

She said she was having doubts, and she wasn't sure she could do it anymore. She wouldn't be coming over after school. And she wouldn't be going to prom with him.

Brother F related to me later that this made his so furious he wanted to break his phone in half.

I understood his fury.

A week went by with us working on his outfit worrying about who he would go with now. Every day he asked a different girl. They all said that it was a cool idea, but they didn't want to be involved. Except one girl who told him it was a stupid idea and it was not like he would win anyway.

Brother F was beginning to hate the female gender.

Until Monday night a week later, he called one of Brother S's friends, three years his senior. She said yes, and she could come over the next day to help make the costumes.

Brother F was overjoyed for about 22 hours.

Then when he texted her asking if she was still planning on coming over, she said yes, but she had some things to do first.

We began working, waiting, and wondering if she would ditch out too. I was getting ulcers.

He texted her again asking when she was planning to arrive.

No answer.

Brother F jumped everytime he thought his phone moved. We were running out of options, and this was very disheartening.

We continued working slowly, brainstorming possible girls, and Brother F expressing his unending fury over the girl who cancelled after saying yes.

"I don't think I can ever be friends with her again," he said. "And I am sick of asking girls to go with me, and they tell me I'm stupid."

Three hours into our labor, the 20 year old texted back asking if it was okay to come over now.

Brother F screamed and did a dance.

He finally had a date.

The only thing he wanted now was to win, and for the first girl he asked to eat rotten potatoes.