A girl was invited a a dance in town. She had never been to a dance before. She was of modest means and could not afford a proper dancing dress. She was walking through town to try and shake her heartache when she saw a dress in the window of a consignment shop. She tentatively entered, clutching her pocketbook to her chest. The dress could not have been more perfect. It was white lace with hand beading, and -most importantly- it was miraculously on sale.
She bought the dress then and there.
She was the best dressed girl in the place. She danced and danced until sweat poured down her face, until the point of collapse. The coroner said she died of poisoning – embalming fluid found on the dress. The dress had been taken by a greedy mortician from a young woman lain to rest in her wedding gown. The moral of the story is being poor can and will kill you. The moral of the story is always buy your clothes new, from Macey’s , and wash them before wearing. The moral is cheap sluts can’t want something nice, above their station. The moral of the story is she wasn’t buried in the dress. No one got it. The first girl’s family had it put into storage, folded neatly with the wrinkles pressed out.