Kerry and I took our seats next to Mother and prepared ourselves for the show. The room still murmured, glasses clanked, laughter and curses filled the air, but above it all, I heard Mother.
"Shit!" and there was nothing lady-like about her exclamation, and I took note that her previous favorite word of "gurlllllll" had been replaced by "shit" on this night. Mother's head was turned, and she was peering into the back of the bar when she uttered her expletive, but she quickly turned around, smoothed down her black sequined dress and stoically faced the dance floor that had quickly tranformed into a stage where a spotlight beam made figure 8's on its expanse.
Suddenly, a blonde drag queen of remarkable beauty, dressed in a red floor length, bugle-beaded gown -- who I'd never seen before -- was leaned beside Mother giving her a kiss on the cheek. I couldn't tell what facial expressions Mother was returning, but her arms were folded across her chest, and her body appeared rigid. I tried to lean forward, surreptitiously, to look at Mother, but I couldn't see a thing because there was a styrofoam wig-head with a blonde wig jacked to Jesus in my face....... And that wig tasted like Final Net. Before I could protest, the wig disappeared and the face of the drag queen was aimed toward me at my position next to Mother. ( Flawless make-up, by the way. To this day, I swear she must have air-brushed it on her face....and she brought her eyeliner out just a little bit on the corners of her eyes that gave appreciation to Liz Taylor's Cleopatra.)
"Oh, Billy, it's so good to see you. You look so much better, " she exuded with sincerity and grace and pecked me on my cheek with her waxy feeling lips. Before I could say a word and inform the queen that I was not Billy -- nor did I know who this Billy person was -- she was running quickly across the stage with $ scantily clad real men who each held some of the following items: a tackle box, wig on a styrofoam head -- ((that slightly resembled a bust of an Extra-Terrestrial with BIG BLONDE HAIR, ratted and teased a good foot from the styro- scalp)) -- and beaded gowns in tow, and then all 5 of them vanished backstage...but not before she flashed a smile and gave a respectful nod (( that looked like a mini-bow to me)) to the audience who erupted in applause and praise. And, I rubbed my right cheek to remove that waxy-feeling, but I knew that I had been blushed involuntarily with lipstick.
I looked over at Mother, and I'm surprised her sythetic ginger-haired wig wasn't blazing in full flame, because I would testify to seeing scarlet steam coming out of her fire-engine red ears.
"That bitch will regret stepping foot in this bar again," Mother said in a deep guttural man-voice akin to Linda Blair's in The Exorcist. In truth, Mother wasn't there. Her character had disappeared, and I'd never met this aspect of her -- or his -- personality. Madame Superior's anger and resentment were palpable, and her facial expression was much more evil than it had been the night I'd seen her clobber Fiona...the night I had to pray to Jesus in the gay bar OUTLOUD so Mother wouldn't kill the mouthy queen......whom we still hadn't seen or heard hide nor hair since that fateful evening....the night I'd met Bart....Mother turned her head away from me and caught the eye of Hester, then she did something a little strange. She lowered her sunglasses just a bit and nodded firmly to Hester. Hester raised her eyebrows and nodded in return. There was some secret communication going on between the two, but I didn't fully realize its significance until much later.....
"Oh honey, just calm down," I tried to soothe the savagery that I knew existed in this outwardly-appearing-belle. "Be the nice Southern lady that you are." Heck, I didn't know who this blonde drag queen was, but it didn't take a 360 I.Q. to know that Mother despised her, and I knew that Ms. Superior was capable of killing someone if the stars were just right -- or wrong. Mother jerked her head around ( and it might have twirled on her neck a few times, I'm not sure ) and glared at me through yellow eyes as she snatched up her purse.
"Southern ladies are only nice on the outside, honey," she roared. "We rebuilt the South and got our power back by ACTING nice, but we're snakes on the inside. There's a President in the White House from this very town...and honey..........................he didn't get there by being nice. His MAMA knew the right people....and just so you know, her second husband owned a beauty parlor.....if you know what i mean......I've always been connected................. Presidents don't win elections like you think. They are made, and they aren't made nice....................and I didn't get here by being nice. I only ACT nice." Her words were acid and sharp. She enunciated every one of them with purpose and meaning...and her Presidential innuendo peaked my interest, but now wasn't the time to ask. Somehow, I knew internally, that her consternation wasn't directed at me, and that she needed to say it to someone....anyone would have been appropriate in that moment for her. She paused for a minute and searched through her long, thin purse. When she couldn't find what she was looking for, she dumped the entire thing out on the table and rummaged through its contents. She finally found her compact ( which was also art-deco and bejeweled -- the bitch had good vintage taste) and lipstick tube. She opened both, twisted up her tube of lipstick and applied it while glancing into her opened compact. Then she dabbed her finger a bit on the right side of her upper lip. For a brief moment, I thought her blazing temper had subsided, but she'd only gathered more steam.
"I've swallowed more power than you'll ever see, and I might have been on my knees...................but I know everyone I need to know, and I know everything that I need to know." she said vehemently as she placed all of her dumped items back into her purse, then slammed it on the table in front of her after she snapped it shut.
"You think that I'm just a burger flipper at a bowling alley, but you just don't know how it works in the South............Just because I'm a drag queen who likes to entertain doesn't mean I'm stupid. I only play stupid because that's what they want to see....Southern ladies are the true power...........and I'm the queen of them all...Don't ever underestimate us or think we're weak or NICE............ and don't you forget that, boy." and she slammed her hand down on the table. The flame in the fairy light jumped into the air and disappeared, the empty bean bowls rattled, the beer bottles fell over like bowling pins and both empty Martini glasses flopped over and they all rolled to the floor where they crashed. At the crescendo of the shattering glass, the crowd hushed, and I jumped a little; Kerry squeezed my knee HARD under the red table cloth. "I Love Lucy's" sound-a-like theme still blared through the speakers, but the spotlight paused for a second before it resumed tracing the 8 on the stage. For a minute, I was scared so I sat very still and held my breath (( like I did when I was a kid and was getting beaten )), and I knew if I just kept quiet, this Arkansas storm would pass.
"Shit!" and there was nothing lady-like about her exclamation, and I took note that her previous favorite word of "gurlllllll" had been replaced by "shit" on this night. Mother's head was turned, and she was peering into the back of the bar when she uttered her expletive, but she quickly turned around, smoothed down her black sequined dress and stoically faced the dance floor that had quickly tranformed into a stage where a spotlight beam made figure 8's on its expanse.
Suddenly, a blonde drag queen of remarkable beauty, dressed in a red floor length, bugle-beaded gown -- who I'd never seen before -- was leaned beside Mother giving her a kiss on the cheek. I couldn't tell what facial expressions Mother was returning, but her arms were folded across her chest, and her body appeared rigid. I tried to lean forward, surreptitiously, to look at Mother, but I couldn't see a thing because there was a styrofoam wig-head with a blonde wig jacked to Jesus in my face....... And that wig tasted like Final Net. Before I could protest, the wig disappeared and the face of the drag queen was aimed toward me at my position next to Mother. ( Flawless make-up, by the way. To this day, I swear she must have air-brushed it on her face....and she brought her eyeliner out just a little bit on the corners of her eyes that gave appreciation to Liz Taylor's Cleopatra.)
"Oh, Billy, it's so good to see you. You look so much better, " she exuded with sincerity and grace and pecked me on my cheek with her waxy feeling lips. Before I could say a word and inform the queen that I was not Billy -- nor did I know who this Billy person was -- she was running quickly across the stage with $ scantily clad real men who each held some of the following items: a tackle box, wig on a styrofoam head -- ((that slightly resembled a bust of an Extra-Terrestrial with BIG BLONDE HAIR, ratted and teased a good foot from the styro- scalp)) -- and beaded gowns in tow, and then all 5 of them vanished backstage...but not before she flashed a smile and gave a respectful nod (( that looked like a mini-bow to me)) to the audience who erupted in applause and praise. And, I rubbed my right cheek to remove that waxy-feeling, but I knew that I had been blushed involuntarily with lipstick.
I looked over at Mother, and I'm surprised her sythetic ginger-haired wig wasn't blazing in full flame, because I would testify to seeing scarlet steam coming out of her fire-engine red ears.
"That bitch will regret stepping foot in this bar again," Mother said in a deep guttural man-voice akin to Linda Blair's in The Exorcist. In truth, Mother wasn't there. Her character had disappeared, and I'd never met this aspect of her -- or his -- personality. Madame Superior's anger and resentment were palpable, and her facial expression was much more evil than it had been the night I'd seen her clobber Fiona...the night I had to pray to Jesus in the gay bar OUTLOUD so Mother wouldn't kill the mouthy queen......whom we still hadn't seen or heard hide nor hair since that fateful evening....the night I'd met Bart....Mother turned her head away from me and caught the eye of Hester, then she did something a little strange. She lowered her sunglasses just a bit and nodded firmly to Hester. Hester raised her eyebrows and nodded in return. There was some secret communication going on between the two, but I didn't fully realize its significance until much later.....
"Oh honey, just calm down," I tried to soothe the savagery that I knew existed in this outwardly-appearing-belle. "Be the nice Southern lady that you are." Heck, I didn't know who this blonde drag queen was, but it didn't take a 360 I.Q. to know that Mother despised her, and I knew that Ms. Superior was capable of killing someone if the stars were just right -- or wrong. Mother jerked her head around ( and it might have twirled on her neck a few times, I'm not sure ) and glared at me through yellow eyes as she snatched up her purse.
"Southern ladies are only nice on the outside, honey," she roared. "We rebuilt the South and got our power back by ACTING nice, but we're snakes on the inside. There's a President in the White House from this very town...and honey..........................he didn't get there by being nice. His MAMA knew the right people....and just so you know, her second husband owned a beauty parlor.....if you know what i mean......I've always been connected................. Presidents don't win elections like you think. They are made, and they aren't made nice....................and I didn't get here by being nice. I only ACT nice." Her words were acid and sharp. She enunciated every one of them with purpose and meaning...and her Presidential innuendo peaked my interest, but now wasn't the time to ask. Somehow, I knew internally, that her consternation wasn't directed at me, and that she needed to say it to someone....anyone would have been appropriate in that moment for her. She paused for a minute and searched through her long, thin purse. When she couldn't find what she was looking for, she dumped the entire thing out on the table and rummaged through its contents. She finally found her compact ( which was also art-deco and bejeweled -- the bitch had good vintage taste) and lipstick tube. She opened both, twisted up her tube of lipstick and applied it while glancing into her opened compact. Then she dabbed her finger a bit on the right side of her upper lip. For a brief moment, I thought her blazing temper had subsided, but she'd only gathered more steam.
"I've swallowed more power than you'll ever see, and I might have been on my knees...................but I know everyone I need to know, and I know everything that I need to know." she said vehemently as she placed all of her dumped items back into her purse, then slammed it on the table in front of her after she snapped it shut.
"You think that I'm just a burger flipper at a bowling alley, but you just don't know how it works in the South............Just because I'm a drag queen who likes to entertain doesn't mean I'm stupid. I only play stupid because that's what they want to see....Southern ladies are the true power...........and I'm the queen of them all...Don't ever underestimate us or think we're weak or NICE............ and don't you forget that, boy." and she slammed her hand down on the table. The flame in the fairy light jumped into the air and disappeared, the empty bean bowls rattled, the beer bottles fell over like bowling pins and both empty Martini glasses flopped over and they all rolled to the floor where they crashed. At the crescendo of the shattering glass, the crowd hushed, and I jumped a little; Kerry squeezed my knee HARD under the red table cloth. "I Love Lucy's" sound-a-like theme still blared through the speakers, but the spotlight paused for a second before it resumed tracing the 8 on the stage. For a minute, I was scared so I sat very still and held my breath (( like I did when I was a kid and was getting beaten )), and I knew if I just kept quiet, this Arkansas storm would pass.
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