Driving Ms Cat Car

It is 1954, and the sun is shining brightly with feeling. I am lying in my room, staring at the bland white ceiling. Go out and do something! My mother urges me again. There is nothing to do, without my friend, my twin. A car comes screeching around the corner and Ms. Cat is here. I run out there, as swiftly and happily as any being-chased deer. She is the epitome of a good time, this hilarious feline pure. She says “Hop in!” and I leap into her T-bird and yell “sure!” When did you have it painted? I asked her. Yesterday it was red. My daddy’s butlers turned it pink this morning, that cagy cat said. She wanted it to match her scarf, and it was the perfect color pink. The amount of money her daddy made the rest of us really think. She let me drive her around, and I wore a smart black chauffer hat. My friends laughed at this, but I did not care because of our great chat. She told me how to make money, and I took her advice this day. I now have two Thunderbirds, and others work while I play away