I bought into the hype. I'm not made of wood, people! They had me at "PlayStation 3 to go on sale Friday, November 17." In order to be the first cat in my neighborhood to get my paws on what is being called "the next coming," I decided to head to my local Best Buy and sit in line all night long. All. Night. Long.
Refusing to call for a limo, my agent made me wait until she could take me there (why they won't just let a cat have a driver's license is beyond me). The manipulative skank took her own sweet time getting ready and, when I insisted she move a little faster, she kept saying, "Shut it, Empress. You don't need treats right now. Stop your whining!"
I wish she would just learn Meow so we could communicate more effectively.
I was the fourth to arrive, which pissed me off. Vowing to be in the first three, I laid my trap. "Hey, you guys! I just heard Bill Gates is in the Olive Garden parking lot, signing autographs!" Only one pimply-faced kid took the bait. In hindsight, I should have used Pamela Anderson instead of Bill Gates. That gets the virgins every time and would have easily placed me in the #1 position.
With two nerds remaining in front of me, I decided to unleash my super-sexiness to captivate them.
Rubbing against #2's leg, I purred, "Has anyone ever told you that glasses are sexy? They must give you the edge over your Dungeons and Dragons opponents."
Trying to hide his immediate and visible arousal, he blushed and stammered, "Um...of course! I find having astigmatism attracts the hot ladies every time."
Cranking up my super-sexiness to a 7.5 (anything higher would have sent the poor boy to the hospital with an asthma attack), I purred, "Have you ever dated a super-sexy, celebrity feline?"
"LIAR!" I hissed. "There are no other super-sexy, celebrity felines! Turn your ass around. I can't even look at you right now. You are dead to me!"
Clearly, this boy was a lost cause. I decided to move onto #1.
It took awhile to distract him from his Gameboy Advance. Certain mine were the first he had ever seen, I whipped out my multiple nipples. Apparently, he found Zelda more interesting. Idiot.
"Whatcha playin', hot stuff?"
"I'm playing Legend of Zelda: The Minish Cap. I'm fighting Gleerok in the Cave of Flames."
"Who in the cave of what?"
Sighing, taking a gulp from his Jolt Cola, and slyly mining for booger-nuggets, he muttered, "I don't have time to explain..."
Despite my super-sexiest efforts, I had to come to terms with the fact I was relegated to spot #3. Instead of focusing forward, I decided to have some fun with the queue that was quickly forming behind me.
"I have some Star Wars figurines here! Anyone want to play?"
"Which episode?" asked the 12-year old geek behind me. At least he looked 12. I guess, in all fairness, he could have been 20--with severely atrophied muscles from hours at the computer.
"Nevermind," I sighed. "It was a joke, but if you're going to get all specific, it strips all the funny from it."
"Does anyone have a cigarette?"
I about broke my neck as I craned to see what "normal" person said that.
Rolling her eyes, a smartly-dressed woman rubbed her temples. "This is really bullshit. It's bad enough my tax attorney boss sends me out to buy flowers for his wife--and his mistress, now I have to stand in line all night to get some stupid video game thingy for his spoiled brat of a kid."
Gasps exploded from the line. "STUPID VIDEO GAME THINGY?" cried a frizzy haired girl as she reached to steady her friend who had apparently fainted. The turbulent mob became louder as shouts of, "If I weren't afraid to fight, I would totally kick your ass!" and "Kyle, hand me my Mega Force VI Saber of Death and grant me seven attack points! I'm going in!"
Baring my teeth and claws, I yelled, "Knock it off! No one is fighting anyone tonight. Not on my watch!"
The crowd began to settle. I gave the irritated executive assistant a cigarette and whispered, "Smoke it and shut your pie-hole. You haven't seen drama until you have Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp fight over you. Trust me; it's not pretty."
Running her fingers through her hair, she sat down in her lawn chair with a sigh.
The next five hours ticked by slowly. SLOWLY. I napped, but only after booby-trapping my area with things like sports, popular people, and dates--things that naturally keep computer nerds at least 6 feet away. I couldn't risk someone stealing my spot in line while I was asleep.
When the doors opened, I decided to make my move. With cheetah-like speed, I darted between the legs of #2 and over the right shoulder of #1 (I could have gone through his legs, too, but would that have been as impressive?). As I leapt through the door, I ran smack-dab into the chest of a ginormous man, arms crossed angrily.
"You're not allowed in here."
"What the frick...?"
"Animals are not allowed in the store."
"Why, you bastard! I've been freezing my tail off for over 12 hours, in the brisk Michigan air, to buy a PlayStation 3. Either you're going to let me in the store peacefully, or I'm just going to have to kick you in the junk and make you cry in front of all these people who probably live in their parents' basements."
"Just try to kick me in the junk, pretty kitty. I dare you."
I tried. Repeatedly. Maybe it was the crowd that kept pressing at my back. Maybe it was the fact that his crotch was 4 feet off the ground. Whatever the reason, all four of my flailing legs failed to hit my target.
Exhausted, I curled up at his feet. "Can you call my agent? I need a ride home."
I guess I'll just have to send my agent out on Black Friday to get my PlayStation 3. Knowing she'll fight rabid Christmas fiends will make sitting outside overnight totally worth it.
I. Must. Nap. Now.