By the time, we'd reentered Our House, and received our customary MEOW from Kit -- who was scrubbing out the crock-pot in the bar sink -- most of the crowd had migrated to the back bar. Queens and dykes alike were spinning on the dance like no one had ever puked on it. Mother and the "ene" cousins had resumed their seats, and Boma Jean looked wild-eyed and spastic and she sat spred-legged and twirled her hair with her index finger. Something had happened to her in my absence, but it would take awhile for its effects on her to affect me. Kerry and I took our seats, and Siara seated herself at the end of the table but not before Mother stood and hugged her and acted like they were dearly departed friends who hadn't seen each other in years -- which was another strange bar ritual that I never quite understood. Heck, I'd never talk to most of these people in real life; I sure as heck wouldn't hug them. It reminded me of the "fellowship" time at country churches where the pastor told us all to "shake somebody's hand or hug their neck", and I always cringed. It was worse in a gay bar, but I didn't have to paint on a face and pretend I liked it like I did at church, and I sure as heck never hugged anyone unless I wanted to. I just looked at them like they were nuts if they stretched out their arms to me, and I didn't want to hug them. That could be another reason why I eventually won the bitch award.............but at least, I was real. I wasn't going to be a hypocrite and hug someone who'd spread lies about me or stabbed me in the back. The phrase, "turn the other cheek" meant something totally different in the gay world and Christian rules just didn't apply there.
"Where have you two been?" Mother asked in an accusatory voice that lilted at the end as she resumed her seat.
To add fuel to the flames of her gossip fire, I said, "At the dumpster." point-blank and shamelessly.... AND I knew full well that she envisioned a new condom on the ground by the way she lowered her sunglasses and peered over their rims with raised eyebrows....and I didn't correct her. I just smiled. I'd learned to stop caring what other people thought about me years prior and knew that they'd believe what they wanted -- rather than what was true -- anyway. Belief of any type takes effort and desire. Depending on which direction a person's heart was pulled on a matter, determined what he believed. I couldn't do anything about what she believed or wanted to believe, and I hadn't lied. We'd been at the damn dumpster, but we hadn't vulcanized our thangs or even pulled them out. Mother just couldn't believe that I wasn't like her, and it would take her years to realize that. By this time, however, I knew Mother well enough to know that she wouldn't have left a condom on the ground either, but she would have been bent over like a heifer at a feeding trough if given half the chance. THAT just wasn't me, but it WAS her. Animalistic behavior at a dumpster was below ME.
The music changed to some Lawrence Welk "travelling" music ( as the drag queen's called it) and as if on cue, the dance floor cleared and the seats filled up once again to compose a surprisingly full audience. (( and I told myself that not even egg puke could scare off this crowd)). The spotlight ( still stuck on green ) began to trace figure 8's across the back wall, and the black porters appeared and turned on 4 floor fans ( two were directly in front of our front table and one each were on the side walls). They were all aimed at the dance floor. When I'd initially seen Mitzi place them there after Hester's puke party, I had assumed that they were to clear the air, so to speak, but I was wrong. I'd soon discover their purpose. Fog started rolling onto the dance floor from somewhere, but the fans kept the billowing clouds centered on the dance floor. Within a very few minutes, that dance floor/stage was transformed into something that slightly resembled a graveyard in a horror movie..........and then there was Mitzi. She just popped out of the back. She wore gypsy looking garb that the wind from the fans whirled and lifted hither and yon..........She even had part of it draped across her head so she looked like Mary -- you know, the Madonna..the Mother of Jesus..that you see in depictions of her in the Children's Bible. Mitzi Tootsie wore all white, and we all knew it wasn't because she was pure, but the grassy tinge from the spotlight added some honesty to her get-up...and cast a strange hue on the fog.
"Oh, Lord," Mother said quite audibly. "I've seen this shit before. Hold on, gurl."
"So I'm back to the velvet underground
Back to the floor that I love
To a room with some lace and velvet flowers
Back to the gypsy that I was, to the gypsy that I was"
Mitzi lip-synched and flapped her flowing white robes around, and the wind from the fans caught them nicely. Lord knows, the song was boring with barely any beat and certainly wasn't a good drag choice, but Mitzi made it look pretty -- for the time being.
I nudged Mother and asked in a whisper,"Is that Stevie Nicks?"
Mother nodded with a sour look on her face, "Yesssssssssssss" she drawled,"This is the number that got her last place at Miss Arkansas. Just watch, gurl, it gets worse."
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