Remembering Raquel Read Free Page A

reason. But something got me thinking that it might be fun, and something got me thinking that maybe someone would ask me to go, and then something got me thinking that it's only a week off. Maybe—can it be possible?—maybe NO ONE will invite me after all, and if I'm to go, I'll have to go unescorted. Solo. By myself. Wallflower Dead meat. Women and small children, avert your eyes from the sight. But at least then I won't have to worry about the dreaded SMALLTALK. Because in all likelihood NO ONE will talk to me anyway I can keep those deep thoughts about the music and the food and anybody's hair to myself.
    I have come to a conclusion—and at the same time I have a newly formulated GOAL in LIFE. Next time Mrs. Bellanca assigns one of those essays she's so enamored of, I can submit this:
    ***
WHAT I SEE FOR MY FUTURE
    by Raquel Falcone
    I will never have a boyfriend, so I will no longer obsess. Instead, I will take in stray cats for companionship. I will become the prototypical CAT LADY every neighborhood has (or should have). I will specialize in ugly or deformed cats, but—since they have had a hard enough life as it is—I will not have them neutered or spayed. (The little critters need to have some fun.) This, of course, will result in more cats, which is fine because my short-term goal is to make myself a nuisance to my neighbors with offending smells, noise, and clutter Eventually I will die, but since I have no friends to care about me, no one will notice, and my cats will feed upon my body. Which brings me to my long-term goal: contributing to what the Walt Disney Studios Philosophy Department has so eloquently termed The Circle of Life.
    T HE E ND
    Feel free to comment.
©
current mood:
cranky, with dramatic overtones of self-pity
    Responses to this thread:
TUESDAY/08:27 PMEDT
    COMET GIRL: Comment?
Comment?
Several fallacies there, Raquel, including that—if you will recall—I taught you how to dance when we were in 4th grade. Don't blame me if you can't remember how.
    Fallacy # 2 is that you have no friends to care about you. Excuse me? What is this friendship bracelet with your name on it that I have dangling from my wrist? Just because you've forgotten that I taught you to dance is no reason to deduce that I am no longer your friend.
    Fallacy # 3 is that your choices for this dance are:
• get invited
    â€¢Â go alone
    â€¢Â don't go
    We are living in the 21st century.
You
can invite someone, you know.

    Fallacy # 4 is that cats will turn on a master who has died and eat her I have read on this matter It's all a matter of timing.
Dogs
will eat a dead master—usually several days after the demise, when they have reached the point of starvation, usually after tearing up the house, looking for any other food and/or a way out.
Cats,
on the other hand, do not wait for a master to die, but will try to eat anyone who has stopped moving. This is why you should never let a cat sleep with you on your bed. Unless you're a restless sleeper, the cat is likely to mistake you for dinner.

    TUESDAY/08:43 PMEDT
    GYLINDRIELLE: Heya, Hayley.
    I suppose it is a pretty crappy goal all around. Animal control would come in and destroy all the cats, cause nobody would want to adopt them for fear that they'd developed a taste for human flesh.

    P.S. No way am I going to invite a boy to a dance, regardless of the century.

    P.P.S. Your teaching me the chicken dance and the hokey pokey—while very thoughtful—does not qualify me to dance in public.

    TUESDAY/08:50 PMEDT
    COMET GIRL: Excuse me. The chicken dance and the hokey pokey are the building blocks upon which all other dances are built. Check out MTV to verify.
    As far as those cats with a taste for human flesh, maybe that girl from your school who's so big into causes could step in and rescue them after you kick the bucket—what's her name?

    TUESDAY/08:51 PMEDT
    GYLINDRIELLE: Mara Ravenell

    TUESDAY/08:53 PMEDT
    COMET GIRL: