Without missing a beat, Kit gently said, "Meow."
Our case of the severe giggles only worsened, but I was soon to realize that "meowing" and "purring" were Kit's signature salutations. It was funny the first time -- and only the first time. Thereafter, it was tedious and bizarre. Imagine listening to her greet every customer with a meow every time someone new walked in the door. Uh, yeah........... Luckily, she only worked by herself on Monday and Tuesday nights, so I didn't go to Our House that often on those nights. Strangely, down here in Hot Springs, the lesbians didn't label their vaginas a Vag, Va Jay Jay, or a pussy. Instead, they referred to it as a cat, kitten or kitty. They even used extended metaphors to mean certain things ,for instance. "My kitten is purring" meant they had seen someone to whom they were sexually attracted or something along those lines. The references went down hill (and below the belt) from there.........Kit's name took on a whole new meaning with this knowledge, and I had to wonder that since she was missing so many teeth whether eating too much kitty caused tooth decay in some lesbians...........Well, doesn't it make you wonder, too?
Lesbians, on the whole, were different here than the ones I had encountered in college. I had many lesbian buds at OSU, and they were pretty normal. Some were butch-er than others, but that goes with the territory. I worked out a deal with one special lezzie named Angie: I'd fix her hair when she needed it, and she'd fix my truck. That worked out for awhile, but I seemed to be styling her locks much more often than she changed my oil. ( And she had this thing about home nudism which kind of freaked me out when she was on her period. I won't go into it. You can just imagine. ) I liked lesbians in Stillwater. In Hot Springs, they seemed to have a chip on their shoulders toward men in general, and they dipped snuff and went hunting in the deer woods. They also didn't understand the fag hag concept. For some reason, they thought any straight girl who popped up with me at the queer bar was "curious", and they'd be all over her. HUH? If I walk into a straight bar, trust me, I'm not looking for chicks, so why did they think my hags wanted to pet their kitty? Of course, I met and befriended many normal lesbians, but the lurchy ones stick out like sore thumbs, but I guess I shouldn't have expected drunk, lonely lezzies to behave themselves, but you know damn well that I put them in their place when they overstepped any boundaries...............It's kind of my job to maintain social order.
Anyway, mother and I took our perch on the corner of the bar after our giggles subsided. I ordered a cherry lime Zima. ( Grenadine and lime in a clear malt beverage that I don't think is manufactured anymore, and for good reason, it sucked unless you added something to it. I have a thing for Braum's cherry limeades, and Braum's are few and far between in Arkansas, so I made due the best I could at every opportunity.) Of course, Mother ordered a Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper on the rox. While Kit made our drinks, I looked around the bar. I gathered that Tuesday was lezzie night at the queer bar cuz this place was literally crawling with kittens of every size, shape and gender ( butch, fem and lipstick ). By the sound of clanking balls and small cheers and jeers, I could tell that most were centered in the pool area, but I didn't make an effort to go check it out. However, there were a few guys on our side of the bar, too -- nothing memorable, trust me. For some reason, I looked up, and I decided to ask Mother the question that Cherry couldn't or wouldn't answer the other night.
"Mother," I nearly yelled over the juke box. Someone had Reba's "Fancy" on, and in the coming days, weeks, months and years, I'd that I'd hear that song over and over. The lezzies like red heads with big foreheards from Oklahoma, I supposed. (( Haven't you ever noticed that Reba has a weird forehead? Lord, knows I love her, and her voice probably wouldn't sound the same without out it, but the girl has forehead for days that she tries to obscure with bangs.)) "Who are those 3 queens in those pictures above us?"
Mother paid for the drinks and looked up, "The one on the far end is the Countess Baronessa Maria Andrea Del Santiago, ( She did the best she could with the Spanish pronunciation considering her Southern drawl, but I almost burst out laughing. I had to bite the inside of my cheeks to squelch it though, and it wasn't easy considering I'd already had 3 margaritas at the restaurant. ) Tuna is in the middle, and the one on this end is Naomi Sims."
"Okay, I know about Tuna, but how are the other two notable and why do they hold a position of honor?"
"Because, they're dead, gurl," Mother said kind of abruptly and with the tone that I was stupid and that I should have been born knowing that information.
I really didn't know what to say, and I kind of figured that I needed to drop it, but at least, I knew their names and that they held that position because they were deceased. Just at that moment, a boy in a ball cap walked to the side of the bar where the condiment tray lay open ( health code violation, btw ) and ordered a drink.
"Let's move to that table over there by the juke box, "Mother said rather hurriedly and before I knew it, she was gone. The boy in the cap looked at me, and I smiled. He looked kind of familiar, but he didn't return the smile. I didn't give it another thought and followed Mother to the table. Mother sat with her back to me and to the bar.
"That's her," Mother roughly whispered before I could take my seat. I took the padded chair opposite Mother, and I could still view the bar and the front door. From this vantage point, I could pretty much view the entire place which included the pool room, and I had been right. The place was a cat's den. I did notice that all of the tables were absent their table cloths and fairy lights. They were just plain, old, fake wood, formica topped tables. The table cloths and fairy lights looked better, I thought to myself.
"Who?........... Which her?" I had no idea what she was referring to, and I didn't see any drag queens anywhere. I highly doubted that mother would call any of these lesbians "her". Sir would have been more accurate with most of them. Wife beaters with an ace bandage underlay was the fashion rage on this night. I felt horribly over-dressed.
"Fiona!" she spit out with venom.
"Oh my God," is all I could say. I knew I should have listened to that bonging omen. I looked up and Fiona was looking right at us. I smiled, again. She didn't, again. Thankfully, she walked to the pool room with a martini glass in hand.
"What are you going to do?" I asked quietly and cautiously.
"She decides what I'll do," Mother said with a little less venom, but with a whole lot of seriousness.
"If she's nice, then I'll be nice. If she says one wrong thing, I'll kill the bitch."
And, I believed her.
The door buzzed, and Kit reached under the counter and pressed a button, and I heard another buzz. A big guy with a blonde toupee' that was so perfectly sprayed, it appeared like it had been styled at the Play-Doh hair salon, walked in the door. He looked familiar,too. Kit meowed ( yeah, I told you it was bizarre) at him, and he ordered a drink. He looked over at me and smiled and waved. I returned the pleasantries to be polite because I didn't know who he was.
"Who's that at the bar waving at me?" I asked Mother.
"Gurl, that's Cora," Mother said with that you're stupid tone after she turned and waved at Cora. Honestly, I did feel kind of stupid, but I didn't recognize these people in regular clothes. I'd met them all in drag, and the last time I saw Cora he had black hair and looked like Lulu Roman. Now, he looked like the Pillsbury doughboy in a Play-doh boy wig. Cora walked over and joined us and sat on Mother's left side, so her back was to the pool room. I was the only one of us who had a full view. We said hello and all that and talked about our evening. Soon we were immersed in conversation, and they forgot about Fiona, but I didn't. I still had a feeling. Sometimes God just gives some people a feeling of impending doom when needed. I really wished I'd listened to the Lord and the bong he sent me. No one mentioned the de-wigging events of Thanksgiving night which I thought was a little odd, but maybe it was a subject they'd rather not breech in such a public venue, I surmised. They mainly spoke about some bar in Little Rock in which Cora apparently had some financial interest. It bored me, so I looked over to the edge of the bar and Fiona was ordering a drink again. I made sure to keep my eyes on her, but diverted them when she looked my direction.
I didn't tell Mother or Cora of her presence at the bar. I noticed that Fiona had two drinks in her hand. One was a martini glass complete with a big bobbing olive stabbed with a mini plastic sword, and one was something dark in a quart jar with cherries floating in it. It looked an awful lot like Mother's Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper.
OH GOD.
The bitch was headed in our direction. I tried to signal Mother with my eyebrows because Fiona was too close to simply blurt it out. My friends in Oklahoma would know exactly when something was up by my facial expressions, but Mother and Cora didn't know me well enough, yet.
Oh Lord, this wasn't going to be good.
Suddenly, Fiona was on Mother's right side, and she sat the quart size drink down in front of mother. Cora's face went white. Mother's face went red. I just smiled ( and prayed silently ).
"What's that?" Mother spat out as she pointed at the quart jar and looked at it like it was a snake.
"I thought I'd buy you a drink to let you know there are no hard feelings. I know it's hard for you old girls to make way for new talent," Fiona said with candy sweet sarcasm.
Oh God, this bitch was stupid, I thought. I also thought that he should live in drag cuz he just wasn't attractive as a boy with those plucked, arched eyebrows. For some reason, some drag queens try to look butch when they are in boy clothes, and it never quite works out right. He had on ill-fitting jeans, Justin Ropers, a brass belt buckle in the shape of Texas on a carved leather belt, an off-brand Polo shirt and a ball cap. It looked like he'd transformed from drag into a poor impression of a Dallas lesbian circa 1980.
"I'm sure it is just as difficult for you new girls to adjust to new surroundings, but you do it so often that I'd think you'd be used to it, Krissy or is it Isis?" Mother said through gritted teeth and a false smile. I knew full well that she'd referred to Fiona's former drag names to be a bitch, and I had to give her points for that. It was something that I'd do, too.
As the two queens exchanged power barbs, Cora kicked me under the table, and I glared at her, and then she kicked me again. I gave her a questioning look and she mouthed "Do something!" to me. HUH? ME? What the hell am I going to do?
"I do have to say, Fiona, that I think you are a very beautiful and talented drag queen," I blurted out and interrrupted their up-to-this-point civilized and veiled insults. WRONG THING TO SAY. Mother kicked me under the table this time...HARD.
"Well, thank you very much. It is nice to hear that someone around here appreciates talent. I'm Fiona Fontaine, and it's nice to meet you," and she stuck out her hand for me to shake. I took it and considered kissing it because Cora told me that I should kiss queen's hands down here, but I thought better of it and shook it gently. I quickly dropped it when I saw the look in mother's eye. I was thinking to myself that this was not my fight, but I didn't really like Fiona's attitude, so what the hell? She needed a good ass-whooping, and I knew in my heart that it was only moments away.
"You know respecting other queens' songs and property are rules that Tuna taught us, and we try to abide by them to keep order among the girls. We can't all be doing the same songs, you know, or the audience will get bored. It's really for the good of our shows to try to all work together in this," Mother said trying to explain her position.
"Tuna. Tuna. I've heard about enough of Tuna." Fiona said with a very haughty and drunk tone. She took her olive out of the glass and bit a chunk out of it and then splashed the remainder back into her martini. Lord, this bitch has no class, I thought to myself. Who DOES that?
"Well, you know, she was the show director here for many years and she made drag what it is in Hot Springs. Things have been working really good..........up until now," Mother leaned forward and rested her chin on her fist and flashed a very evil smile. Her face was beet red, and I could tell that Mother was doing all she could to maintain. Cora looked down at the table and started drumming her fingers. I was wide-eyed and wasn't going to miss a thing
"She's dead. You need to get over it, and let drag soar to heights it has never seen in this town. You are holding us back by her tired rules," Fiona escalated and took another sip of her Martini.
"YOU NEED TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF THIS TOWN, BITCH, BEFORE SOMEONE KILLS YOU," Mother yelled as she stood and got in Fiona's face. I knew Fiona had struck a nerve as soon as she said, "she's dead" because Mother's usual brown eyes literally turned golden. I was suddenly reminded of the color of my Dad's eyes when he used to beat me. They were always yellow, then too.
The entire bar stopped. I heard no balls clacking or cheers or jeers. I even think Reba stopped singing, but I'm not quite sure.
"You tried to get away from me when you saw me tonight. Didn't you? Like a coward, I saw you get up and move to this table and turn your back to me. What are you afraid of?" Fiona said with open bitterness and scorn as she stood nose to nose with Mother. You know, people who think gays or drag queens are weak and gentle obviously don't know any cuz gays can throw down just like they make love -- with manly passion.
Mother didn't say a word. I swear I saw little puffs of smoke coming out of her nostrils though, and she didn't budge an inch. If I had just walked in on this scene, I'd swear that they were about to kiss.
"I'm tired of hearing all this shit," Fiona said as she broke her stance and walked toward the bar and then she paused and looked at everyone cuz everyone was looking at her. "About an old queen who died of AIDS, " and then she took the remainder of her Martini and threw it on Tuna's picture in a prissy, queenly manner. The olive (( with the bite out of it ) bounced off of Tuna's face and landed smack-dab in the center of our table, and the plastic sword flew out and landed in my lap. Mother was up before the olive bounced on the fake wood, and she had Fiona leaned over the bar choking her in an instant. She moved like electicity, and Fiona had no time to resist her. In just a few seconds, we heard these hacking, gurgling, guttural sounds that got louder and louder. No one moved except Fiona who was kind of flailing around like a desperate rag doll. At first, we could see her striking at mother, and then her arms seemed to have no aim.
"She's gonna' fucking kill her if we don't do something," I said in awe to Cora. It was one of those things that a person sees happening, but doesn't believe it. Mother had warned me several times that she was crazy, but I didn't think this was what she meant.
"Yep, " was all he said. He kind of sat mesmerized with both hands at his sides viewing the spectacle. I got the impression that Cora had witnessed this before and knew there was nothing he could do about it. Nobody else moved, either. Whether it was out of fear or awe, I'll never know.
"She had leukemia, bitch," Mother yelled and then she started banging Fiona's head on the bar. Kit was no help. She just stood there, frozen. I couldn't help but wonder why it mattered how someone died. To me, the only thing that mattered is that they were dead, but the manner in which a gay person died in this town was overly important..........and it shouldn't have been.
I got up and moved toward the action. I didn't know what to do, so I prayed..................outloud........in a gay bar. (( If you get a Charismatic boy in a tense situation, he'll always resort to ecstatic prayer. )) It didn't seem to be working and no one seemed to notice, so I got louder, and I summoned all the angels in Glory for this. I pleaded with the Lord Jesus to intervene. Trust me, every ear in heaven got the message; I was praying mostly for me cuz I'd never seen a murder before. I didn't really give a rat's patoot about Fiona, but this was all a little unnerving for me. I was definitly thinking that my up-the-wall-shag-carpeted-apartment would have felt really good about then................ I was just a little shocked that no one else seemed to move. They just stared. Was this the typical Tuesday night show?
Then something told me to place my hand on Mother's hand. The view from this angle was not a pretty one. Fiona was starting to look a little purple and she was foaming at the mouth. Her hat had fallen off behind the bar, and her bald head was shining. Veins were popping out all over it. Mother had tired of banging Fiona's head against the walnut and she was just slowly choking death into Fiona. I continued to pray aloud, but I was strangely calm. Gently and with caution, I placed my right hand on Mother's right hand which literally had a death grip on Fiona's neck, and I quietly said, "Let go."
And, she did.
Mother slumped over and Fiona ran toward the door as Kit clued in that she needed to buzz her out. Fiona wheezed to catch her breath and she barely eeked out as she slipped through the door, "I'll see this bar closed down. I'M THE NEW SHOW DIRECTOR AT PENNY FEATHERS."
Our case of the severe giggles only worsened, but I was soon to realize that "meowing" and "purring" were Kit's signature salutations. It was funny the first time -- and only the first time. Thereafter, it was tedious and bizarre. Imagine listening to her greet every customer with a meow every time someone new walked in the door. Uh, yeah........... Luckily, she only worked by herself on Monday and Tuesday nights, so I didn't go to Our House that often on those nights. Strangely, down here in Hot Springs, the lesbians didn't label their vaginas a Vag, Va Jay Jay, or a pussy. Instead, they referred to it as a cat, kitten or kitty. They even used extended metaphors to mean certain things ,for instance. "My kitten is purring" meant they had seen someone to whom they were sexually attracted or something along those lines. The references went down hill (and below the belt) from there.........Kit's name took on a whole new meaning with this knowledge, and I had to wonder that since she was missing so many teeth whether eating too much kitty caused tooth decay in some lesbians...........Well, doesn't it make you wonder, too?
Lesbians, on the whole, were different here than the ones I had encountered in college. I had many lesbian buds at OSU, and they were pretty normal. Some were butch-er than others, but that goes with the territory. I worked out a deal with one special lezzie named Angie: I'd fix her hair when she needed it, and she'd fix my truck. That worked out for awhile, but I seemed to be styling her locks much more often than she changed my oil. ( And she had this thing about home nudism which kind of freaked me out when she was on her period. I won't go into it. You can just imagine. ) I liked lesbians in Stillwater. In Hot Springs, they seemed to have a chip on their shoulders toward men in general, and they dipped snuff and went hunting in the deer woods. They also didn't understand the fag hag concept. For some reason, they thought any straight girl who popped up with me at the queer bar was "curious", and they'd be all over her. HUH? If I walk into a straight bar, trust me, I'm not looking for chicks, so why did they think my hags wanted to pet their kitty? Of course, I met and befriended many normal lesbians, but the lurchy ones stick out like sore thumbs, but I guess I shouldn't have expected drunk, lonely lezzies to behave themselves, but you know damn well that I put them in their place when they overstepped any boundaries...............It's kind of my job to maintain social order.
Anyway, mother and I took our perch on the corner of the bar after our giggles subsided. I ordered a cherry lime Zima. ( Grenadine and lime in a clear malt beverage that I don't think is manufactured anymore, and for good reason, it sucked unless you added something to it. I have a thing for Braum's cherry limeades, and Braum's are few and far between in Arkansas, so I made due the best I could at every opportunity.) Of course, Mother ordered a Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper on the rox. While Kit made our drinks, I looked around the bar. I gathered that Tuesday was lezzie night at the queer bar cuz this place was literally crawling with kittens of every size, shape and gender ( butch, fem and lipstick ). By the sound of clanking balls and small cheers and jeers, I could tell that most were centered in the pool area, but I didn't make an effort to go check it out. However, there were a few guys on our side of the bar, too -- nothing memorable, trust me. For some reason, I looked up, and I decided to ask Mother the question that Cherry couldn't or wouldn't answer the other night.
"Mother," I nearly yelled over the juke box. Someone had Reba's "Fancy" on, and in the coming days, weeks, months and years, I'd that I'd hear that song over and over. The lezzies like red heads with big foreheards from Oklahoma, I supposed. (( Haven't you ever noticed that Reba has a weird forehead? Lord, knows I love her, and her voice probably wouldn't sound the same without out it, but the girl has forehead for days that she tries to obscure with bangs.)) "Who are those 3 queens in those pictures above us?"
Mother paid for the drinks and looked up, "The one on the far end is the Countess Baronessa Maria Andrea Del Santiago, ( She did the best she could with the Spanish pronunciation considering her Southern drawl, but I almost burst out laughing. I had to bite the inside of my cheeks to squelch it though, and it wasn't easy considering I'd already had 3 margaritas at the restaurant. ) Tuna is in the middle, and the one on this end is Naomi Sims."
"Okay, I know about Tuna, but how are the other two notable and why do they hold a position of honor?"
"Because, they're dead, gurl," Mother said kind of abruptly and with the tone that I was stupid and that I should have been born knowing that information.
I really didn't know what to say, and I kind of figured that I needed to drop it, but at least, I knew their names and that they held that position because they were deceased. Just at that moment, a boy in a ball cap walked to the side of the bar where the condiment tray lay open ( health code violation, btw ) and ordered a drink.
"Let's move to that table over there by the juke box, "Mother said rather hurriedly and before I knew it, she was gone. The boy in the cap looked at me, and I smiled. He looked kind of familiar, but he didn't return the smile. I didn't give it another thought and followed Mother to the table. Mother sat with her back to me and to the bar.
"That's her," Mother roughly whispered before I could take my seat. I took the padded chair opposite Mother, and I could still view the bar and the front door. From this vantage point, I could pretty much view the entire place which included the pool room, and I had been right. The place was a cat's den. I did notice that all of the tables were absent their table cloths and fairy lights. They were just plain, old, fake wood, formica topped tables. The table cloths and fairy lights looked better, I thought to myself.
"Who?........... Which her?" I had no idea what she was referring to, and I didn't see any drag queens anywhere. I highly doubted that mother would call any of these lesbians "her". Sir would have been more accurate with most of them. Wife beaters with an ace bandage underlay was the fashion rage on this night. I felt horribly over-dressed.
"Fiona!" she spit out with venom.
"Oh my God," is all I could say. I knew I should have listened to that bonging omen. I looked up and Fiona was looking right at us. I smiled, again. She didn't, again. Thankfully, she walked to the pool room with a martini glass in hand.
"What are you going to do?" I asked quietly and cautiously.
"She decides what I'll do," Mother said with a little less venom, but with a whole lot of seriousness.
"If she's nice, then I'll be nice. If she says one wrong thing, I'll kill the bitch."
And, I believed her.
The door buzzed, and Kit reached under the counter and pressed a button, and I heard another buzz. A big guy with a blonde toupee' that was so perfectly sprayed, it appeared like it had been styled at the Play-Doh hair salon, walked in the door. He looked familiar,too. Kit meowed ( yeah, I told you it was bizarre) at him, and he ordered a drink. He looked over at me and smiled and waved. I returned the pleasantries to be polite because I didn't know who he was.
"Who's that at the bar waving at me?" I asked Mother.
"Gurl, that's Cora," Mother said with that you're stupid tone after she turned and waved at Cora. Honestly, I did feel kind of stupid, but I didn't recognize these people in regular clothes. I'd met them all in drag, and the last time I saw Cora he had black hair and looked like Lulu Roman. Now, he looked like the Pillsbury doughboy in a Play-doh boy wig. Cora walked over and joined us and sat on Mother's left side, so her back was to the pool room. I was the only one of us who had a full view. We said hello and all that and talked about our evening. Soon we were immersed in conversation, and they forgot about Fiona, but I didn't. I still had a feeling. Sometimes God just gives some people a feeling of impending doom when needed. I really wished I'd listened to the Lord and the bong he sent me. No one mentioned the de-wigging events of Thanksgiving night which I thought was a little odd, but maybe it was a subject they'd rather not breech in such a public venue, I surmised. They mainly spoke about some bar in Little Rock in which Cora apparently had some financial interest. It bored me, so I looked over to the edge of the bar and Fiona was ordering a drink again. I made sure to keep my eyes on her, but diverted them when she looked my direction.
I didn't tell Mother or Cora of her presence at the bar. I noticed that Fiona had two drinks in her hand. One was a martini glass complete with a big bobbing olive stabbed with a mini plastic sword, and one was something dark in a quart jar with cherries floating in it. It looked an awful lot like Mother's Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper.
OH GOD.
The bitch was headed in our direction. I tried to signal Mother with my eyebrows because Fiona was too close to simply blurt it out. My friends in Oklahoma would know exactly when something was up by my facial expressions, but Mother and Cora didn't know me well enough, yet.
Oh Lord, this wasn't going to be good.
Suddenly, Fiona was on Mother's right side, and she sat the quart size drink down in front of mother. Cora's face went white. Mother's face went red. I just smiled ( and prayed silently ).
"What's that?" Mother spat out as she pointed at the quart jar and looked at it like it was a snake.
"I thought I'd buy you a drink to let you know there are no hard feelings. I know it's hard for you old girls to make way for new talent," Fiona said with candy sweet sarcasm.
Oh God, this bitch was stupid, I thought. I also thought that he should live in drag cuz he just wasn't attractive as a boy with those plucked, arched eyebrows. For some reason, some drag queens try to look butch when they are in boy clothes, and it never quite works out right. He had on ill-fitting jeans, Justin Ropers, a brass belt buckle in the shape of Texas on a carved leather belt, an off-brand Polo shirt and a ball cap. It looked like he'd transformed from drag into a poor impression of a Dallas lesbian circa 1980.
"I'm sure it is just as difficult for you new girls to adjust to new surroundings, but you do it so often that I'd think you'd be used to it, Krissy or is it Isis?" Mother said through gritted teeth and a false smile. I knew full well that she'd referred to Fiona's former drag names to be a bitch, and I had to give her points for that. It was something that I'd do, too.
As the two queens exchanged power barbs, Cora kicked me under the table, and I glared at her, and then she kicked me again. I gave her a questioning look and she mouthed "Do something!" to me. HUH? ME? What the hell am I going to do?
"I do have to say, Fiona, that I think you are a very beautiful and talented drag queen," I blurted out and interrrupted their up-to-this-point civilized and veiled insults. WRONG THING TO SAY. Mother kicked me under the table this time...HARD.
"Well, thank you very much. It is nice to hear that someone around here appreciates talent. I'm Fiona Fontaine, and it's nice to meet you," and she stuck out her hand for me to shake. I took it and considered kissing it because Cora told me that I should kiss queen's hands down here, but I thought better of it and shook it gently. I quickly dropped it when I saw the look in mother's eye. I was thinking to myself that this was not my fight, but I didn't really like Fiona's attitude, so what the hell? She needed a good ass-whooping, and I knew in my heart that it was only moments away.
"You know respecting other queens' songs and property are rules that Tuna taught us, and we try to abide by them to keep order among the girls. We can't all be doing the same songs, you know, or the audience will get bored. It's really for the good of our shows to try to all work together in this," Mother said trying to explain her position.
"Tuna. Tuna. I've heard about enough of Tuna." Fiona said with a very haughty and drunk tone. She took her olive out of the glass and bit a chunk out of it and then splashed the remainder back into her martini. Lord, this bitch has no class, I thought to myself. Who DOES that?
"Well, you know, she was the show director here for many years and she made drag what it is in Hot Springs. Things have been working really good..........up until now," Mother leaned forward and rested her chin on her fist and flashed a very evil smile. Her face was beet red, and I could tell that Mother was doing all she could to maintain. Cora looked down at the table and started drumming her fingers. I was wide-eyed and wasn't going to miss a thing
"She's dead. You need to get over it, and let drag soar to heights it has never seen in this town. You are holding us back by her tired rules," Fiona escalated and took another sip of her Martini.
"YOU NEED TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF THIS TOWN, BITCH, BEFORE SOMEONE KILLS YOU," Mother yelled as she stood and got in Fiona's face. I knew Fiona had struck a nerve as soon as she said, "she's dead" because Mother's usual brown eyes literally turned golden. I was suddenly reminded of the color of my Dad's eyes when he used to beat me. They were always yellow, then too.
The entire bar stopped. I heard no balls clacking or cheers or jeers. I even think Reba stopped singing, but I'm not quite sure.
"You tried to get away from me when you saw me tonight. Didn't you? Like a coward, I saw you get up and move to this table and turn your back to me. What are you afraid of?" Fiona said with open bitterness and scorn as she stood nose to nose with Mother. You know, people who think gays or drag queens are weak and gentle obviously don't know any cuz gays can throw down just like they make love -- with manly passion.
Mother didn't say a word. I swear I saw little puffs of smoke coming out of her nostrils though, and she didn't budge an inch. If I had just walked in on this scene, I'd swear that they were about to kiss.
"I'm tired of hearing all this shit," Fiona said as she broke her stance and walked toward the bar and then she paused and looked at everyone cuz everyone was looking at her. "About an old queen who died of AIDS, " and then she took the remainder of her Martini and threw it on Tuna's picture in a prissy, queenly manner. The olive (( with the bite out of it ) bounced off of Tuna's face and landed smack-dab in the center of our table, and the plastic sword flew out and landed in my lap. Mother was up before the olive bounced on the fake wood, and she had Fiona leaned over the bar choking her in an instant. She moved like electicity, and Fiona had no time to resist her. In just a few seconds, we heard these hacking, gurgling, guttural sounds that got louder and louder. No one moved except Fiona who was kind of flailing around like a desperate rag doll. At first, we could see her striking at mother, and then her arms seemed to have no aim.
"She's gonna' fucking kill her if we don't do something," I said in awe to Cora. It was one of those things that a person sees happening, but doesn't believe it. Mother had warned me several times that she was crazy, but I didn't think this was what she meant.
"Yep, " was all he said. He kind of sat mesmerized with both hands at his sides viewing the spectacle. I got the impression that Cora had witnessed this before and knew there was nothing he could do about it. Nobody else moved, either. Whether it was out of fear or awe, I'll never know.
"She had leukemia, bitch," Mother yelled and then she started banging Fiona's head on the bar. Kit was no help. She just stood there, frozen. I couldn't help but wonder why it mattered how someone died. To me, the only thing that mattered is that they were dead, but the manner in which a gay person died in this town was overly important..........and it shouldn't have been.
I got up and moved toward the action. I didn't know what to do, so I prayed..................outloud........in a gay bar. (( If you get a Charismatic boy in a tense situation, he'll always resort to ecstatic prayer. )) It didn't seem to be working and no one seemed to notice, so I got louder, and I summoned all the angels in Glory for this. I pleaded with the Lord Jesus to intervene. Trust me, every ear in heaven got the message; I was praying mostly for me cuz I'd never seen a murder before. I didn't really give a rat's patoot about Fiona, but this was all a little unnerving for me. I was definitly thinking that my up-the-wall-shag-carpeted-apartment would have felt really good about then................ I was just a little shocked that no one else seemed to move. They just stared. Was this the typical Tuesday night show?
Then something told me to place my hand on Mother's hand. The view from this angle was not a pretty one. Fiona was starting to look a little purple and she was foaming at the mouth. Her hat had fallen off behind the bar, and her bald head was shining. Veins were popping out all over it. Mother had tired of banging Fiona's head against the walnut and she was just slowly choking death into Fiona. I continued to pray aloud, but I was strangely calm. Gently and with caution, I placed my right hand on Mother's right hand which literally had a death grip on Fiona's neck, and I quietly said, "Let go."
And, she did.
Mother slumped over and Fiona ran toward the door as Kit clued in that she needed to buzz her out. Fiona wheezed to catch her breath and she barely eeked out as she slipped through the door, "I'll see this bar closed down. I'M THE NEW SHOW DIRECTOR AT PENNY FEATHERS."
You have such a beautiful voice!can't wait to read more!!!
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing as I have thoroughly enjoyed it, and given pause to some of the truly horrendous events in your path that brought you to you. I do have to admit I laughed out loud picturing you giving in to prayer in a gay bar. Yet another testimony God is EVERYWHERE. Love you Robert. I needed this today.
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