Blew chill in our faces

Mother walked straight to Kit and demanded soda water to clean the splattered specks of barf from her skirt.  After spending  a few moments scrubbing it with a bar towel, she raised up and proclaimed it as good as new ((and she meant it was clean enough to return to the department store the next day)).  The front bar was exceedingly crowded and Kit hustled to fill drink orders.  While she shook a cosmo in one hand and poured a "Walk me down the road, sweet Jesus" with another, Mother lambasted her for serving beanie weenies in a gay bar and made her swear to never do it again.  In her manner, Mother blamed Kit for all of the night's events, and completely shirked any responsibility of her own...After all, she'd just sat there while everything happened all around her...but..I wondered.  It had all worked out so wonderfully in her favor...and I'd never seen Hester before this night.....Something just smelled rotten.

Twyman's black janitors whisked speedily by us - separating our entourage - supporting ( as best they could ) a slumped middle-aged lady wearing a bobbing motorcycle helmet.  I assumed they were taking her to a waiting cab when Kit buzzed them out.  They were followed by a drag queen ( in Salvation Army drag ) -- name unbeknowst to me, but an obvious no-name who hadn't reached headliner status -- wheeling a ten-speed bicycle beside herself and out the door.  I had come to the point that nothing surprised me in this Alice In Wonderland, and I took it all in stride, and I left my 2's to add themselves together, later............and they would.

When the drag queen returned without the bicycle, -- and with a little grease on her crinilin --  she announced that intermission would conclude in ten minutes, and the show would resume.  ( I deducted that Mitzi's oscillating fans were meant to clear the air of any remnants of Hester....and hoped the Lysol would somehow work some similar magic -- Febreze had yet to be invented ). The drunken crowd - mostly........... some were drugged and fewer, like me, were coasting -- didn't respond to the queen's announcement, and they carried on their merriment as if nothing strange had just occurred.  However, I was a bit traumatized by the fart and barf extravaganza, and I welcomed a breath of fresh air when Kerry suggested it.

Kit buzzed us out, and we walked out to see the black porters loading the 10-speed in the back of one of Hot Springs' yellow cabs.  I plainly saw Hester passed out in the back seat, and I knew the poor lady who'd consumed a lethal dose ( for us, anyway) of eggs and hops was okay.......for tonight, anyway.  The outside of the bar was flooded with light from many angles, and into that light stepped someone who looked slightly familiar and that someone knew me.  He walked with a swoosh, which wasn't a total surprise, and his eyes looked like they needed liner, so I figured out it was a drag queen I'd met in the past, but he'd come to the bar as a boy on this night. When she called out my name, I looked at her and searched for any recognition.

"It's me," he said.  "SiAra Riviera".  And I did know her, sort of.  She was one of the first people I'd met when I had entered the bar on Thanksgiving night.  Cherry had retouched her paint job, and she'd tipped the cosmetique-extraordinaire-bartender 20 bucks for his efforts.  I hugged her and asked where she'd been..

"Oh, gurl," she coughed with a raspy hack, but continued, "I've been under the weather, but I just had to get out and about.  Are you dating Kerry, now?" and she pointed toward Kerry who stood by my side and had been wordless up to this point.  ( I was beginning to realize this Land's End boy might have been pretty, but he had the personality of a darning egg).

"We just came out for a smoke," Kerry quickly said -- which surprised me, but I was grateful for his words since it let me off the hook, and I didn't have to answer SiAra's probing questions.  ( These Southern queens wanted to know all the tea and what kind you drank......and where you bought it...and how much it cost)  ,and we walked out of the light and into the dark....and back behind the bar...to the green trash dumpster which was contained in its own fence, so it was perfectly private and a wonderful place for rats, raccoons and degenerate queers to frolic as they pleased -- and the used condoms scattered on the ground told me that it had been put to good use.  Moonlight behind winter clouds was our only source of light. SiAra exchanged niceties with me and gave the usual insincere compliments that gays always do..."You look fabulous"..."Where did you get those jeans?".."Did you do something different to your hair?"...blah blah bull crap.  I was so immersed in SiAra's questions, that I didn't even notice Kerry light up, but I found it odd when he passed it to SiAra, and she inhaled and held her breath...Then she passed it to me.

"Oh, honey, thanks, but I have my own cigarettes..." I said innocently as I lit my Benson and Hedges Deluxe Ultra-light 100 -- the name was nearly as long as the cigarette itself, but it came in a gold box, and that is the reason I chose the brand.  My college friend, David, smoked them, and I thought the box looked classy.  Anything golden appealed to me, and I didnt have to worry about coordinating my cigarettes with my outfit.  Gold went with anything and was always in style.   My dear friend, David,  introduced me to B&H, but I took the blame for becoming addicted to cigarettes in general............and I regretted it, most of the time. ( but I religiously moisturized my skin because I didn't want early wrinkles because of cigs.)  I missed David immensely; he had been my closest friend through out college:  drinking buddy, bawling buddy, but never fuck buddy.  Our friendship was pure and true, and we'd never tarnished it with sex.  Up to this point in my life, he had been the most loyal friend I had ever had, and I hoped to find that again some day, but I was fully aware that no one could ever take the place of another so his place in my heart was eternally secure.  I really think the reason I clung to my Benson and Hedges was because it was a constant connection to him, and they comforted me when he could not.

SiAra blew her smoke out in one huge exhale, and the sweet fragrance told me that it wasn't tobacco.  I'd had some experience with Mary Jane in college, and while I liked Puff the Magic Dragon in those days, I'd given it up for multiple reasons -- the chief of those being its illegal status. In all seriousness, I knew I had to drive home, and I knew how I'd reacted to the Puff in college, and I declined for that reason. I'd grown up a bit, and my pot days ended when I received my diploma..... 

"Who told you?" she asked in a paranoid voice.

"No one had to tell me," I answered her, and wrapped my arms around myself in the shivering cold.  Kerry attempted to move closer to me and put his arm around me, but I pulled away and stood alone....and separated myself from the smokers a bit.  I had had a little alcohol, but its effects had worn off, so I was aware enough to be on the look-out for anyone approaching us.  The puffers couldn't have cared less which told me that they'd been to this clandestine "meeting place" before, and I had to wonder which rubber was theirs.

"Then, how did you know?" she was even more paranoid, and she passed the doobie to Kerry.

"Cuz, I know what it smells like..." I looked at her like she was crazy.  My eyes had adjusted to the faint moonlight, and I could see dark circles around her eyes, and SiAra's cheeks appeared to be sunk-in to pale, thin skin.  He didn't look well.  He'd looked fine the night I'd met him, but Cherry's brush had given him color that was not his.

"It has a smell?" she asked shocked, and she gathered up her shoulder length, wooly, blond hair and held it in a mock pony tail before she released it and let it straggle willy nilly.

"Well..........of course, it does." I just figured she smoked it so often that she just didn't smell it anymore....and I also attributed her intense questioning to THC.

"I never knew that...." she said quietly, but continued. "Do you think other people can smell it too?"

"If they've been around it, they know what it smells like," I explained.  Kerry moved a bit closer to me, but he didn't extend his arm, so I let him stand next to me.  It was cold and windy outside next to the dumpster, so it was nice to have some warmth emanating toward me, and I could hear the scratchings of an unseen varmint in the metal trash bin, so maybe it would jump on him instead of me if it decided to depart it's trashy paradise.

"Have you been around it a lot?" SiAra continued to probe, and Kerry didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary.  I finally understood Mother's reference about his red eyes when she'd met us in the bar earlier in the evening, and I figured out why the farts had left him unphased....Kerry was higher than a kite, and he'd been floating above it all. 

"Well...not a lot...but some in college," I said, but I still thought SiAra was nuts.  How could she not know that pot had a fragrance and be standing in a marijuana cloud?  Kerry offered me the joint, but I waved it away, and he handed it to SiAra.  She took another pull on it, held it in, and then released with a cough that seemed interminable.

"Did a lot of people have it?" she managed to eke out while covering her mouth and exhausting her cough.

"Not a lot...some did and some didn't.   People experiment in college; it's normal.  It's like a rite of passage," I offered.

"So a lot of straight guys had it?" she asked with some surprise in her voice.

"Of course..gays, straights...blacks..whites..asian..It didn't matter." I attributed her inquisitiveness to her lack of education.  It was obvious for several reasons that she'd never been to an institution of higher learning nor was she aware that much more than academics were acquired there.  Lord knows, that I had a degree in boxed wine and joint rolling, as well as my BA in English by the time I'd graduated....and rightfully so.  I told myself it was fine for me to learn about life as well as Chaucer while I'd been in college, and I hadn't regretted it one iota.  But, I'd also learned enough to snuff out the dope and drink only on occasion, too, when my formal education ended.

"You don't think bad of me do you?  I'm not a slut." she said humbly...with more than a little sadness in her voice.

"No...I don't think bad of you.  Where did you get it, anyway.  Is it hard to find around here?" I asked, but wondered about the slut addition.

"I got it from this guy I dated about two years ago," she said as she looked at her Saucony tennis shoes and rubbed the toe of her right shoe into the gravelled lot.

"You've had this for two years?" and that really surprised me.  Wouldn't its THC levels have dropped to nill in that time?

"That's what the doctors think...........I'm lucky to be alive, they say.....This AZT is about to kill me, and I've lost so much weight.  People are dying all over the place, but I still keep holding on," she said valiantly, and forced a smile, but her eyes held too much water, and it almost trickled out of her lids.

And, then I knew that we'd been talking about two different things.  She'd thought the reason I had declined to smoke after her was because I knew that she had AIDS.....but I hadn't known until she'd mentioned AZT..........and I just didn't want to take a puff period.  It had nothing to do with her HIV status.  I was smart enough to know that I couldn't get it from touching her, or drinking after her, or from smoking Pot after her..............but Hot Springs wasn't quite that sophisticated yet.  They thought someone could catch AIDS from toilet seats ( and they passed out paper toilet seat covers at the local mall for just that reason).  I felt sorry for SiAra and almost asked for a drag on her doobie just to show her that I wasn't afraid of  her.....but she tapped it out on the bottom of her shoe before I had the chance, then she handed the roach to Kerry who deposited it in his pack of cigarettes. As we walked back toward the light in awkward silence, the wind whipped up and blew chill in our faces.

You'll never be allowed back in to Our House Lounge

And a little splashed on Mother, too.  The Ene cousins, Kerry and I had all shreiked and jumped out of our chairs and away from the red-clothed tables on the first gag ( and just in the nick of time), so we were saved from any unpleasant splashes, but Mother's eyes were so locked-on to Bianca, that she'd only risen.  In so doing, a few minor splashes had marred the skirt of her evening dress.

"You're paying for this dress, bitch," Mother said to Hester, and she reached over and grabbed the 2-20s that Hester held in her hands.  As she released her bills, the puking-farter collapsed and her helmet banged on the table.  She was smooth passed-out.

"Twyman!!!" Mother yelled to empty air because I hadn't seen the bar-owner all night, and we'd later learn that he was on a trip to Branson, and wasn't even in town, but Mother didn't know this at the time.  "Twyman, call this drunk bitch a cab and get someone over here to clean up my table. The show ain't over yet. This is just intermission,"  And then she turned to the puke covered Bianca who stood motionless ( and gagging) looking at her dress and hands which were regurgitated in full. (Vomit was even dripping from her golden locks and a bean clung to one of her lashes).  It appeared to be a drag stand-off, but Mother definitely held the superior position.

"Someone needs to take you back to that carwash where you stoled those streamers and power-wash you, bitch...but you better throw that wig away, cuz you'll never get all the yolk out of it" Mother paused before proceeding...."And, I hope you enjoy the talent shows because I'll be dead and cremated before you'll ever be in a real show again" And with that Mother motioned to us all to follow her, and we began our trek out of the back bar in a very orderly fashion.  None of us said a word, and truthfully, it was hard for me not to succumb to Hester's example, but I held it in and didn't even gag.  Boma Jean covered her mouth, and I thought she was going to lose her eggs for a minute too, but she kept it all in.  Willadean and Mellodean were tough old heifers -- they were both nurses -- and it didn't seem to phase them in the least.  Kerry was unmoved and silent, mostly...and I wondered about him.  He just didn't seem to be there, totally, or something.

Just as we  got to the back door, Bianca screamed to Mother through tears, "Won't you ever forgive me?" in a helpless, desperate,  stray-kitten voice.  Keep in mind, that the back bar had almost totally emptied except for a few stragglers who sat at the bar stools at the elbow-back bar...Two of Twyman's flunkies, who just happened to be black,  rushed to our table with Lysol and began cleaning up the remains of beanie-weanies, boiled eggs, beer and blow-jobs around Hester.  One knocked on her helmet, but she didn't move a muscle.

"Me?  Me? Is there a YOU?" Mother had paused and turned around and began a great solilquy of betrayal complete with grand sweeping arm motions. "Who are YOU?  There was a time when I knew someone who looked like YOU.  Someone I loved.  Someone who I took under my wing and taught everything I knew...and I introduced her to everyone I knew.  And I loved her...I loved that Bianca.  BUT, just like everyone else...SHE left, and SHE stabbed me in the back.  The Bianca I knew would have never used me and then forgotten me. YOU deserved this for the way YOU shit all over me......... So, will I ever forgive YOU?  Sister, I don't know YOU, but YOU are stinking up my bar.  Go get cleaned up.........and think twice before you step foot back in this bar again because it will be worse next time."

And, all the gay boys who sat around the elbow-bar applauded and cheered.  Bianca stiffly turned around and walked slowly back to the dressing room with vomit dripping off of her car-wash dress and tear-sodden mascara dripping from her face ( and a few queens - in various stages of drag..a couple were wigless -- peaked around the door of the dressing room to witness the spectacle...one even took a picture..and Larry sat as quiet as a mouse in the back of the bar video-taping it all.) I saw Mitzi run out of the dressing room and place 2 fans on the edge of the stage before I turned and joined Mother's group.

Just before our entourage exited the back-bar door, Mother turned to Larry and said,"You'll give me that tape and don't make any copies or you'll never be allowed back in to Our House Lounge."

All over the Angelic Bianca

Cherry's voice came over the loud speakers and announced  the next performer.  Her name was preceded by the many titles she'd won.  She'd been Miss Gay Lake DeGray, Miss Gay of the Ouachitas, Miss Gay Bath House National Park, Miss Gay Arkansas Rodeo, Miss Gay Toad Suck, Miss Gay Watermelon, Miss Gay Garland County Fair....By the time Cherry had named all of the crowns this queen held, I was bored, and I nearly missed the name of the queen...so I  turned to Kerry to confirm that I'd heard it right...and Cherry had even pronounced it correctly.  She was known simply as

BIANCA

Or, as Mother and Cora referred to her: BEYONKA.  Finally, I realized why Mother had been so rigid when this blonde Aphrodite had kissed her on the cheek, and my 2 and 2's had finally made a four and I knew why Mother had been searching the crowd all evening until the arrival of this queen.  Miss Superior had fully expected Bianca to perform tonight, but she'd kept it to herself and had hoped against hope that it would never actually happen.  It also explained why Mother was in majestic Dillard's ( tag-tucked) drag with her matching sidekick twins..and the mace might have dampened her plans a bit....but like a true warrior princess she'd pressed onward with sunglasses.

BIANCA

Mother's bane.  The bitch was drop dead gorgeous, and as I'd heard Mother exclaim in the past about other queens, "No one could touch her on beauty..."  Bianca's throne had been usurped or surrendered at the new bar -- name still unknown, and reasons still unclear -- and she'd returned to Our House with her tiara between her legs to perform in a talent night.  The audience's cheers at her smile should have told me plenty, but I'd been distracted by the beans and boiled eggs....and Mother's grandiose horn tooting, but the pieces of the puzzle were joining in my mind  and adding up to be a most disastrous night for Mother....or so it seemed when Bette's torch-song started for Bianca

I glanced sideways at Mother and her face was as hard as marble.  No emotion played on her facade, and I couldn't see her eyes which were still covered by movie-star sunglasses, but I knew they were steely and glazed over.  I didn't have to see them. I just knew; her thumb told me all I needed to know.  Her hands were folded primly in her lap and only her right thumb that rubbed her index finger told the true story.  It swished back and forth over her pointer so hard that I thought she was trying to start a forest fire with her fingers.............but everything else was calm and quiet.  If nothing else, Mother was respecting the art form, but she was burning inside......and only her thumb was releasing the pressure.  But, I knew Mother, and I knew she'd need more of a release...........All the omens came together in that instant, and I knew what God had been trying to tell me.  I just had to go with it.  It was simply too late to interceed.

I heard the song before I saw the queen....."It must have been cold there in my shadow"............Oh, no she didn't...."To never have sunlight in your face".....And, I glanced up to behold a lovely queen standing directly in front of us, lip synching undeviatingly to Mother.  Her costume was sheer perfection -- white and silver glimmers...large fringe...and it was wrapped form-fitting ( glue-gunned, I'd learn later) around her...save for her arms...the "fabric" seemed loose there.

"Did you ever know that you're my hero,
and everything I would like to be?
I can fly higher than an eagle,
'cause you are the wind beneath my wings"

She spread-eagled her arms on "wings"....and flapped them slowly.  The "fabric" of her costume seemed to be webbed to her arms and formed unexpected wings that shimmered in the spotlight ( and made crinkly, whooshing sounds that only the front row could hear).  Seraphic.  Heavenly. Celestial. And then I looked closer at the "fabric" of her garment.....I could have sworn that I'd seen those streamers hanging at a car wash....But, she sync'd precisely to Mother..and Mother didn't break her gaze.  She stared right back..unmoving..unflinching...Was this a stand-off between drag queens or was it a sincere heartfelt apology from one sister to another? ( Or was it just a manipulative ass-kissing move to coolly get back in Mother's good graces?)...

Although both aisles were filled with drag-fans waving dollar bills, Bianca stood firm and sync'd  to Mother ONLY.  From my vantage point, it appeared that Bianca didn't see anyone else in the room except Mother.  Hester,with chin resting in one hand, even waved a twenty at her with the other hand, and Bianca ignored it, and her eyes did not waiver from Mother Superior who  sat stony still, and glared into the eyes of Bianca ( I think ....I should say the sunglasses were aimed in that direction, but I'm telling what I felt as well as what I saw...and there were glares there.......and nothing else...except maybe daggers).

"Did I ever tell you you're my hero?
You're everything, everything I wish I could be.
Oh, and I, I could fly higher than an eagle,
'cause you are the wind beneath my wings,
'cause you are the wind beneath my wings."

Bianca became more exaggerated in her angelic ( emu) imitation and flapped her wings with more intensity.  The gels in the spotlight began to change colors thereby changing the colors of her costume...red..blue..and the audience ooohed and aaahed...and applauded...It was dazzling..like a cojunction of Christmas and the 4th of July rolled into one..except there were no fireworks..no sound effects..until

The eggs had fizzed so long in the beer with no release that Hester just couldn't control nature anymore...and the gel in the spotlight switched to green...the song entered an instrumental interlude and everything and everyone grew quiet in the audience...and Hester ripped off the biggest fart in human history.( It's a pure-d miracle that little lady didn't rocket through the ceiling; I'm guessing it lifted her at least 4 inches off of that vinyl-seated-chair by the sound of it)...................but that wasn't the worst part.

The odor was sulforous and nauseating like only an egg fart can be..but add beans and beer to that...and you've got a gas bomb on your hands.  Not everyone heard the fart ( only those on 4 rows around her...back and sides...and they were all looking around to see who the feller was) , but everyone felt its effects....The "ooh's" and "ahh's" changed to "Oh's: and "my god's" as fumes wafted stealthily through the crowd like Moses' death angel...and most of the audience straggled to safety ( It wasn't Passover and No one had the forethought to bring the blood of the lamb with them to a drag show....  No body was safe)................Bianca  had a squeamish look on her face, and she broke her loving looks to Mother for a few moments in a desperate search to determine the culprit..but she held her breath and championed on with her performance and regained her composure.  Mother began to rumble on the inside...and little tremors shook her torso. ( and I could see a slight up-turn of her lips, but she forced it down).....I could tell that she was holding something in...Then, Hester released another one...worse than the one before...Those drag fans that were standing in the tip line quickly began leaving the back bar..Their loyalty had given way to self preservation....The spotlight stayed on green so it made the room appear to be filled with a noxious gas...and in truth, it was: Hester's homemade methane.  Bianca was a trooper . She'd backed up a few steps, but still managed to retain perfect eye-contact with Mother.  Her eyes were a bit slanty now, like she was squinting them because they hurt..and my eyes hurt too.  I thanked God that Mother had made the fairy light flame disappear earlier.  I shuddered to think what might have happened if Hester's gas had reached the flicker...

And Hester...Poor..Poor Hester with the 4 carat diamond and shiny-silver motorcycle helmet..... Bless her heart...All of those beans, eggs, Bud Lights  and Blow-Job shots ( which is just a Buttery Nipple with a gay-friendly name)  had finally taken their toll..and she'd lain down her helmet-weary head on the table and sighed...and farted..and sighed...I didn't need an M.D. to decipher that her tummy was upset....and then some.

Fly, fly, fly high against the sky,
so high I almost touch the sky.
Thank you, thank you,
thank God for you, the wind beneath my wings.

and the sighing, drunk,  Hester did it again........but this was a fart of many toots...I didn't think it would ever end ( but it happened at a perfect time in the song and kept beat better than Kerry did)....but through it all, Bianca maintained.  She finished her number penniless...All of her fans who had been waiting to tip her, had vanished to the front bar for fresh air..(Afra Desiac's blonde-wigged sister had stood up and said, "SHIT..that's nasty" before she walked out.).....Through it all, Bianca was a professional...and Mother sat still like she'd rather die than get up and breathe fresh air.  We were at ground zero and most other people had retreated to the safety of the front bar's clean atmosphere, but Mother wouldn't budge.  Kerry didn't seem to notice anything at all, his eyes didn't appear any redder than they had when I'd met him....and the Ene cousins stuck their nosees in their cocktail glasses and kept looking at us like we should leave, but we didn't.  We were waiting for Mother's lead, but she was steadfast.......(I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so I just sat still and tried to breathe shallowly )....On the last note of the song, Bianca hung her head for dramatic effect and then she  approached our table with her arms extended to Mother.  Mother just couldn't hold it in anymore.  Her tremors had been eruptions of controlled laughter..and she just let it go ( much like Hester had with her fart ) and belly laughed.  No other sound was heard in the near empty bar except for Mother's laughter and Hester's sighing...but Mother did not open her arms.  They still rested at her sides and her hands still sat in her lap.

With Bianca's arms outstretched toward Mother begging for a hug, Mother eked, "That was the biggest bunch of shit I've ever seen," between gasps of air............and her laughter ended.  She reached up, lowered her glasses a smidge and peered over the rims at the seemingly repentant Bianca and just as Mother's lips were forming a word -- out of nowhere --  the helmeted Hester raised her head up and promptly spewed semi-digested beer, beans, martinis, boiled eggs and blow jobs all over the angelic Bianca.

Losing Control of Everything

The two queens who followed Cherry most certainly didn't compare to her.  Their performances insured that everyone in the audience knew that this was a talent night......and talent was only the title of the show because it wasn't possessed by most of the performers.   The next number to follow Cherry was a black queen from Texarkana named Afra Desiac in a blonde Dolly Parton wig doing her interpretation of "Hard Candy Christmas"...  Apparently, this was her nod to the holiday season, but it wasn't well received, and no one bought her illusion of Dolly..and no one tipped her either except us -- we had to, we sat at the damn front table -- and her true blood baby-sister who also wore a blonde wig ( and sat at the table behind us, so we couldn't hate on Afra's performance, either...but, you know I tried. Mother sensed my urge when I leaned toward her ear, and she elbowed me and whispered that  I'd get our asses whooped if I didn't keep my comments to myself.) .............  I figured that the only reason Afra  didn't get a lemon wedge for a tip was because everyone thought she was "packing".  Afra Desiac was a little rough around the edges, missing her two front teeth,  and she was Nigerian black in color ( Do you get the picture??????)...and No, she wasn't an aphrodisiac, either..In or out of drag, she couldn't get anyone to swallow her hard candy....licking the sides was the best they could do (Mother Superior intimated, and I wasn't surprised that she knew).

Penelope Jo Jean Plantagenet walked onto the stage ( with a Frankenstein stroll ) to much fanfare and applause from his cousins and wife......but no one else.  Mother said, "Oh God" under her breath, and it was my turn to give her the elbow.  Sure enough, he was blonde, too, but he'd sprayed it into a Beehive that would have made Mel's Flo green with envy, and he'd glued red butterflies -- with sequined wings -- on conspicuous areas of his mile-high hair ( imagine a turd-y Marge Simpson do in semi-platinum)... Penny Jo ( as she was lovingly called by his drag counterparts) gave Dolly's "Jolene" her best shot.........and I needed a shot after the performance, but I refrained and decided to order a cranberry spritzer, instead.  Let's just say her maudlin interpretation of the Dolly standard was up to par for  a STRAIGHT boy with no rhythm who had married his cousin ( though Mother filled me in that Jo Gene was anything but straight, and he was once a member of her backdoor brigade until he decided he wanted to wear Mother's sequins and Peg Bundy hair when he opened his own backdoor ( doggy-style ) to her, and Mother threw him out ( nekkid in her backyard ) and his clothes and car keys came a few minutes later ( and they wouldn't have if Mother hadn't looked out her "door window and saw him pecking on Ol' lady Rector's guest bedroom window with his pickett-butt to the street...It was a good thing she was in the parlor serving Juleps and Mimolsa's to her Garden Club cuz God knows the ol' widow would have had a stroke if she'd seen what hung between his legs.  Ol' Man Rector had been dead for 20 years, and he didn't tote nothing like that in his trousers"..( And, NO, I didn't ask how Mother knew, but I intuitively knew Ol' Man Rector had used Mother's back door, too).............The next thing Mother knew, Jo Gene was in the talent night line-up and would stay there for several months,where he always performed "Jolene".  He had adopted it as his song -- his one and only song -- in honor of his grandmother, and Mother kept her back door locked on Jo Gene's day off -- Thursday -- from then on ( Apparently, Mother, as a habit,  kept her back door unlocked so her regulars could come and go as they pleased......)  Of course, Mother loud whispered all of this to me in one breath with Penelope Jo Jean only a yard or so from us in full face ( haphazard lips and blush, but good eyeshadow) and drag ( high water Gloria Vanderbilts, red sling backs with biscuit heels AND a red plaid tube-top with HAIRY arm pits and treasure trail...and he hadn't tucked, either -- and that part of Mother's previous description of Jo Gene was accurate...) making awkward hula hand motions ( a novice drag mistake ) and clutching his fists during the chorus like he had a month's worth of constipation to work out. He glanced at us a couple of times with a shocked look on his face when Mother forgot to whisper -- and so did Afra Desiac's blonde-wigged sister --  but he maintained his character as best as he could under the circumstances..........Mother confided that Boma Jean had no idea about her husband's/cousin's "on the sly" activities..........but we'd find out, soon enough,  that Boma Jean could be sly -- but NOT in the literal sense of the word --  all by herself....) Of course, we tipped him, too...twice each...I'd remember in the future to NOT sit at Mother's table on Talent nights or else, I'd go broke, but Mother insisted that we tip EVERY BODY.  She said she HAD to tip because everyone expected it from her -- "Drag is expensive and at least, these girls are trying to keep the art alive, " she'd said when I protested.  Since I was sitting with her, I had to oblige, or it just wouldn't look good...hmph

 I did notice that Hester was only tipping dollars, so even the crazy lady knew these drag queens sucked.  Miss Hester still wore her glittering helmet and, thankfully, had consumed all of her eggs, but she'd had three more beers and four blow-job shots during those two talent numbers..( and I can't say that I blame her...but I had noticed that she'd pinched Mother's leg -- right above the knee -- and Mother had turned to her and nodded, right before she'd ordered.  The gesture made me wonder..and it became a two without a two in my mind for awhile, but I'd still be able to come up with a 4 eventually...... ).When she ordered them, the cocktail waitress -- who was really a waiter in bad drag -- had assumed the drink order was for the entire table..and he was more than shocked when Hester had instructed him to place his beverage tray in front of her on the table and come back in a minute..and then proceeded to down the blow jobs one after another, and then guzzled one beer completely...She'd looked at Mother during her guzzle and Mother had shaken her head in the negative, and then reached into her beaded evening gown and had handed Hester a couple of bills...I just had to wonder exactly what was going on -- especially after Mother's protests about Hester joining us in the first place -- but it would take awhile for it all to come together....)  Following her guzzle, Miss Hester had so many sheets to the wind that the bitch would never be able to make her bed..or even find her covers because a few of those sheets had blown away to parts unknown.  Her helmet  weaved slowly back and forth instead of bopped right to left to the beat in the songs as it previously had, and there were a couple times when I thought she was going to weave over into Mother's lap or Willadean's, but Hester had recovered, and I could tell she was consciously trying to steady herself, but she was close....very close.... to losing control.......of everything.