Dressed to Impress

Mildred rolled over in bed just enough to read the digital alarm clock sitting on her nightstand. When she saw how late it was she slowly rolled to her other side and began putting on a fluffy pair of slippers adorned with goat heads. The bed groaned under her significant weight.

With her feet well-slippered, Mildred shuffled her large figure into the bathroom, where she began her morning routine. She pulled out her face paints, and got to work.

She applied her emerald eye shadow with a heavy hand. It was the look she preferred. ‘Battle paint’ she thought, as she got up and walked to the closet. Mildred was not a slight woman, finding the right outfit each day gave her agita. Not today, she thought, with a smile.

In one swift movement, she picked up the furry costume and heaved it over her body. She glanced back to the mirror, proud of what she had become and almost too excited to look. Finally Mildred felt free. Free to leave her human body and assume that of her true self: ALF.

It was a hot and muggy June afternoon, perhaps not the best timing to be riding a bike wearing an ALF costume, but that was no matter. She had a job interview to make, and this was not one she was going to screw up.

ALF costume was a terrible choice in hot and muggy Mississippi heat. She had drops of sweat dripping from her brow and upper lip. She could taste it, but she could also taste the job. It was victorious triumph that she was after... if only her boss was ok with sweaty employees.

Being the Extraterrestrial Mascot of the Mississippi Melmacs was a dream come true! The much maligned sweat came with the territory. She was ready to show everyone her true talents. Ready or not - it was her chance to take center stage.

There was just one little problem: the costume didn't fit. The tentacles engulfed her limbs; the antennae flopped comically into her eyes. Every time she tried to launch into the signature Melmac Shuffle, she found herself careening head over heels -- antennae over tentacles.

But all was not lost. Her baby sister Kelsey was in the audience, enrapt by the mysterious movements of her big sister, following along with her own smaller limbs in the darkness of the auditorium and its plush, oversized seats. In time, she would become a dancer herself.

Fast forward 10 years—in that very same theater—Kelsey stands astride the proscenium, awaiting her entry cue. She rearranges her fur boa, adjusts her skimpy bodice and begins swaying to the music’s rhythm. Now, the scantily clad chorus line parts for Kelsey’s maiden performance.