Cat Walk

"Dear Heart," Madria sighed to her agent. "All this endless adulation has simply worn me to a frazzle. I just MUST get away from the crowds."

"Try standing out in front of the box office of your latest picture," muttered Benny under his breath.

"What, dear?" bristled Madra. "I didn't quite hear..."

"I get the picture," sighed the beleaguered agent.

"I'm taking a day off. All incognito, of course." Madra hung up the phone. She donned a fiery red ensemble, gave a feline stretch and off she went.

Outside, she breathed in the California air, filled with the scent of orange blossoms and promise. "One final touch and then-blessed anonymity," she smiled, putting on a pair of sunglasses.

First, a visit to some of her favorite fashionable boutiques. Salesgirls waited on her without a glimmer of recognition. "It's working!" thought Madra, happily. "None of them realize WHO they're waiting on." Then she headed to Graumann's Chinese. Standing in her cement footprints, she nodded at passers-by. "None of them recognize me," she smiled-with slight regret.

After the matinee, she walked down Sunset Boulevard, pausing now and again to see if people would turn around. Finally, with one bold sweep, she whipped off her sunglasses. Instantly she was deluged with fans, begging for their favorite star's autograph.

"Being incognito is one thing," she thought to herself, signing autographs with cat-like grace. "But there ARE some things to be said for being 'cognito,' too!"

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