My Johnny CatCooking for One - Making A Romantic Dinner Just For You
By Henna Armbruster & JohnnyCat
September 21, 1999

While I was sitting at home, alone, on a rainy evening last week, just dreaming about Mr. Right slipping in silently through the unlocked back door and taking me hard and fast his way on the cold kitchen floor, I came up with a great idea for my first Cooking for One column for divisiontwo. Like most women, I realized, I'd gladly cut off my own left breast and feed it to some starving pigeons if a man would treat me to a romantic dinner like the ones in the old black and white movies. I'd happily eat dog feces and call it Godiva chocolate if a handsome stud would take me out ballroom dancing or for a night at the opera. I'd probably hand a six-year-old boy over to that weird Carlos guy from Maintenance if Fabio or Fabian would take me for just one romantic walk on the beach. But I know in my heart of hearts that this probably isn't meant to be. Damn you, rusty wheelchair and chipped glass eye. Curse you, ringworm and vagina rot. To hell with you, breathing machine and catheter.

So in the mean time, my cat Johnny and I are going to share with you what we think is the perfect recipe for a romantic dinner for one. This recipe has been in my family for one generation, a Henna original, it wasn't passed down to me by any crusty grandmother or slut mother. I never knew my real mother; she took off before I was born. I was found at a yogurt bar by some stoned hippies and raised as a boy for the first eight years of my life. Then they took my legs. Anyway, this recipe has helped tide me over in many a time of aching need. It will probably help you too, whenever life looks so bleak you would rather just end it with a blender in the bathtub than face another day of crying in loneliness and isolation.

Let's talk about ambiance...
The rain is pattering lightly on the roof, and JohnnyCat is diligently cleaning his paws behind the couch. You look at the grandfather clock, taking note of its hypnotic rhythm as it ticks away the remaining seconds of your life with cold regularity. You are excited that your imaginary date will be arriving in just a few hours, to take you far away from the pain, the torture of living. You want everything to be perfect for him this time, because you remember how he got mad last time and stormed out, leaving you to cry in your wheelchair in a puddle of your own filth until your nurse came the next morning. So before you get down to the actual cooking, it's important that you set the right mood for the occasion.
Get the house in order. Clean all those old Star magazines off the kitchen table and wipe up all that dusty cat hair with a damp cloth and some vinegar. Open that new package of expensive Chinet and rinse off the fork you use to torture the mice you catch. Empty out all urine cups, and set out one for you and the special one for him.

When that's taken care of, find the right supplies to make the atmosphere come alive. If you do it right, you may be able to forget for a few minutes just how lonely and sad you really are. For the perfect romantic lighting, I use black, long-stem candles and my yellow bug lite. It's nicer than the buzzing green fluorescent lights you normally have on. You should also take care to cover the table with a thick cloth to hide all the swear words you've carved into the surface. Your date doesn't like it when you swear. Also, find two nice chairs, one for you and one for Him. Spray his with Scotch Guard in case he spills something. Spray yours with Scotch Guard in case you lose control of your bowels again.

Put on the right music. I like to play my old Raffi 45s on 38 and backward; you may like something completely different; this is a matter of personal choice.

Wear the right clothes. Put on your flowered blouse and clean grundies. High heals would be nice if you can reach your feet--I can't. Restraints. You can also shave your legs to appear more classy and elegant, if your caregiver lets you keep razors--mine doesn't. Once everything is as it should be, it's time to start thinking about what to serve him so he doesn't get mad and hit you again.

Let's talk about the food...
This is your night, so go all out. Take that Totino's Party Pizza out of the freezer and pop it in the safety oven. If you're like me you'll probably want to crawl in there with it and travel to the blissful, painless oblivion of death--that's why mine has bars on the front. Then make a brand new pitcher of Kool-Aid to drink. Be mindful to rinse the pitcher out first if the last batch has gotten moldy. Don't use sugar, it makes you crazy. And you'll need to think about dessert too; it's time to dig out that box of Equal packets you've been hiding from your nurse. Get it out from behind the loose board in the crawl space. If spiders have nested inside it, shake them out before your date comes.

The dinner begins...
Your date shows up as the soon as the table is set and the pizza is done. He's imaginary, of course, so this is where your creativity comes in. Sometimes I eat by myself, other times I make my cat Johnny sit at the table and play the part of the handsome beau. He'll stay put if you staple his tail to the chair. Be as classy and demure as possible. This means eat like a lady, not like a man. Utensils, not tongue. And keep your hands out of your asscrack, even if they get really cold. Don't go on and on about how you're planning on killing your nurse and hiding her body in the crawl space; men are usually more interested in talking about themselves. Don't dominate the conversation, let him tell you his wildest dreams and dirtiest fantasies. Ask him what he'd like to do to you. Keep your hands above the table at all times, no matter what his response is.

It's the dessert, stupid!
The quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach. You can get there either through the mouth and down the esophagus or take a shortcut through the abdomen. Through the mouth is a lot less messy, and there won't be a police inquiry later. Your date will probably like two or three packets of Equal. If JohnnyCat doesn't want to eat them, I just shove them paper and all down his throat. Your date will probably be more agreeable. The dessert stage is the time when you let him know how wet you are. Ask him politely if he would take your flower. If you have already taken your own flower with a candy cane from the tree your nurse set up last Christmas, a little white lie won't hurt. Don't be afraid to massage your nipples to erection.

Saying goodnight.
Now the date is over and it's time to say goodnight. The eternal question rears it's head; a kiss or a hug? Usually, it's the man's decision, but since this is your special night, it's all up to you. Let him take you the way you want to be taken. Don't let him leave until your every wish has been fulfilled. Once the dawn has come, and your beau has left you with one last gentle kiss on your forehead like a drop of morning dew, you have to snap yourself back into reality and get everything cleaned up. Take the staples out of JohnnyCat's tail and wash all the dishes so your nurse doesn't give you twenty questions the next morning. Put your nice clothes back in the drawer for tomorrow night's date. Hide any leftover Equal behind the loose board in the crawl space. Douche your vagina to get his imaginary sperm out.

This has been is your Cooking for One recipe for this week. Until next time, don't let the sadness of life force you to end it. Whenever you feel like cutting your own throat with the dull safety knives your nurse lets you keep, just close your eyes, picture your perfect man, and let him take you to a faraway land of romance, passion, and nonstop lovemaking. Don't be embarrassed to touch yourself, it's your right. I'll be back next week with more of my recipes for the single woman.

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