a night to remember

The Prom

So it turns out, nothing ever goes as planned.

Just when you were so excited that the one and only Elon Musk creator of Tesla and richest man on earth was the one to ask you out to prom, the biggest night of your life, everything goes wrong.

All of the sudden, the world shuts down because of a global pandemic called the Caranovirus, and you aren't allowed to go anywhere. In the few weeks before prom, the school cancelled the event like it's not the most important event in your high school career.

You spent a lot of time crying about it in your room, and honestly, so did everyone else.

You even had the perfect dress already. Elon had gotten the world's best tailor to make the sparkly blue dress fit you just right. He had thought of everything, but now, you don't even get to show it off.

After your daily crying sesh, you decided to hop onto your computer and check for updates online. It's been a while since you checked Facebook because Mr. Musk doesn't like it when you use other billionaire-owned company things. So, that included being unable to use Bill Gate oppar's Microsoft stuff, or Mark Zuckerberg senpai's Instagram or Facebook. Not that you cared or anything, because you now have secret access to the top-notch social media and computer software coded by Elon's own thicc fingers.

Still, you check the commoner's social media in secret because you don't want to just dip them because they are still your friends.

It looks like everyone is doing okay in quarantine. You only got a few notifications on TikTok. Well, not a few. It looks like your friends have sent you over 100+ TikToks in the past two days. Why are they so jobless?

You slowly watch through all of them and like all of them because they are pretty funny anyway. 

But, before you can get through all the videos, you get a call on your phone. It's from an unknown number. It must be a prank call. You are pretty bored, so you answer it anyway.

"Hello??"

"Hey, my love," says a low husky voice. Or should I say. Musky.

"Elon!" you exclaim. "Hi!"

"I hope you're not busy right now," he says.

You look at the giant pile of textbooks and homework that you have due tomorrow. Eh. Due tomorrow, do tomorrow. 

"No, I'm free all night," you say flirtasously. "Did you have something planned?"

"You remember how I sent you a caranovirus test two weeks ago?"

"Yup. It came back negative!!"

"Good girl," he chuckles, and it makes your face burn red. "Well, I just sent an entourage to your house. Don't worry, they have all been tested too."

You furrow your eyes in confusion. "Why? Are we going somewhere?"

"Yes, my darling pumpkin bread. You'll know once we get there."

"Oh. okay." then he immediately hangs up. You look down at your phone and wonder why he called you from a burner phone. Was he doing his illegal trade capitalism things again? 

Before you can question it anymore, a giant line of maids burst into your bedroom with piles of things in their hands. They sit you at your desk and immediately start to scrub at your face with lotions and scrubs. 

"Mhksfmm what is that??" you yell when someone leans in with two strings crossed on their fingers. 

"Don't worry, we'll make you look very very pretty for Mr. Musk," they say. "Or we get fired and murdered..."