In the family

Murmurs filled the audience, and I could hear the sequins on mother's dress rustle, and then she uttered "Shit, they've done it again!" as she struggled to put her feet back in those too-small heels.

The flood lights that were hitched to the green exit sign lit up above the side escape door in the wall to our far right, and lighters began to flash all over the room. The fairy lights that flickered in the center of each table cast an eery red hue through the room, and little embers of orange  glowed and danced like chubby lightening bugs through out the audience to indicate nervous smokers in the dark. Of course, the fans that had previously trapped the fog in the center of the stage had ceased, so the fog wafted up and around the first few rows of seats.  I could feel the humid cold of the fog on my face, and my visibility was almost nill. A tremendous uneasiness came over me.  After turning to Willadean and telling her to watch the money, Mother turned to me.

"Come on, " she said tersely.

"What's going on?" I asked with a little trepidation.

"Some asshole has turned off the electricity again.  I told Twyman to move that damn breaker box inside the bar." she said as she waved her hands in that characteristic gay fashion as if it was a common occurrence.

Her nonchalance comforted me, but I still didn't think it was wise -- or safe -- to go outside especially since we knew that someone had purposefully shut off the power.....but maybe it was safer to be outside rather than inside because I didn't know what these pranksters had in mind, so I was torn.  Homophobia ran rampant in the supposed City of the Arts in Arkansas, and the current situation proved that fact...if mother was correct in her supposition.  For all I knew, there was a city wide power-outage, and we were only members of failed electricity and not victims of harrasment.

"Mother,it's not safe to go out there.  They might still be there.  Let's just wait a minute.  Maybe it's a power outage", I urged, which of course, was the common sense thing to say.

"Gurl, I am a seven feet tall drag queen who weighs," and she paused a moment before she revealed her weight then continued, "Who weighs enough  and you know I am mean as hell.  Now, come on," and she tugged on my shirt, so I rose and started to follow her but not before I waved Kerry and SiAra along with us.  I told myself there was strength in numbers.  "I won't let anyone hurt you, chicken shit," Mother said supremely, but I wasn't totally convinced of that even though I'd witnessed her manic power.

Reluctantly, Kerry and SiAra rose, and we all began to follow Mother Superior across the dance floor and into a seeming thunderhead of rising fog. I could hear SiAra's quiet protests to Kerry between her coughs, but Kerry didn't say a word.  He trudged onward like a zombie, and his toes kept bumping into my heels  - for which he did not apologize.  It was taking awhile for our eyes to adjust to the darkness, but we did pretty good as we felt our way through the cloud of fog.....until Mother bumped into the bowed head of Bianca and knocked her crown off, and I fully expected to hear a crash of thunder and see a flash of lightening. ( Later, Mother told me it was an accident, but it was so terribly convenient that I believed it was happenstance as much as the puke was.....).   I heard a clatter of metal and Bianca yelped , "My Crown," and Mother  let out a whoop that scared the audience which caused loud jabbers and mutterings to break  forth from them. I heard lezzies and queers alike rouse and rise from their seats.  Bianca was hunting all over the floor with her hands ( she even grabbed my shoes which made me get the willies ) before she finally located her crown and released a relaxed sigh.

"Hey..Sit down and Shut up!  Don't nobody panic.  We just blew a breaker because of that damn fog machine.  Sip your cocktails and Bessie get some flashlights and hustle your ass and get these people some more drinks," Mother bellowed and calmed the crowd.  She thought quickly on her feet, I thought, and the calmness in her voice chased away any uneasiness that began to enter the minds of the audience.  If I didn't know of her suspicions about homophobes in the night, I would have believed her and sat still............and that's just what they did.

"And Bessie, bring us some flashlights.  They're under the bar..... Craig, help her," Mother added.

"Bianca, honey,  come with us and help us with the breaker," Mother uttered willy-nilly in the darkness, and I wondered just how many drag queens it took to turn the lights back on.............Apparently, Mother was being cautious just in case the pranksters wanted to accost us outside, and I wasn't the only person thinking about strength in numbers.  I really don't know why she didn't grab a few butch lesbians on our way out, but she didn't.

"Baby, I aint' got no clothes on..and it's 30 degrees outside.  I ain't goin' out there.  I need to git my tips before someone takes off with the whole wad." Bianca protested as I followed her voice as she rose from the floor to our ear level in the darkness because I couldn't see her.  The stage was a dark abyss...and I gathered that "baby" was her word much like Mother's "gurl" and Cora's "queen".

"Oh...Okay..but tell your crew to git out there and stay with Kit and the cash register..but tell them to put some clothes on.  They might have to whoop some ass." Mother instructed., and her words certainly didn't comfort me.  I assumed she wanted to leave some strength inside the building just in case more trouble decided to invite itself within.  But, she was calm and only taking precautions..I don't think she really supposed anything would happen; she just wanted to cover all bases in the event of an attack, or I hoped so.  I told myself this must have been how settlers and soldiers felt as they faced an onslaught of enemies as they hid within a supposedly safe fortress. 

"Baby, I'm sure those straight boys have their clothes on now.  Do you think those straight boys are gonna' stay naked in  a room full of half dressed drag queens?  Now, go on, and get those lights back on,"  Bianca chided, and we all followed Mother in the darkness as we clung to the backs of each other.  As we walked, I took note of the ease in the conversation between Mother and Bianca.  Months and Months of hard feelings ( and gallons of puke ) had seemingly melted and disappeared.....But that was Hot Springs.  These queens could fight and argue for weeks on end, and then something would trigger forgiveness ( or Mother's mood just simply changed ), and all those bad feelings appeared to vanish if only on the surface.  It was very familial in that regard, howbeit dysfunctional, -- as long as everyone remained in the family.

Nothing

Bianca had no shame - which was a bit shocking to me at the time.  She pranced  in a set of Victoria's Secret lacy black bra and panties in the midst of that rolling fog like she truly was the Queen of the night...........and she meant it when she synched:
                                                          I got the stuff that you want
                                                          I got the thing that you need
                                                          I got more than enough
                                                          to make you drop to your knees
                                                          Cuz I'm the Queen of the Night
                                                          Queen of the Night
                                                          Oh yeah, Oh yeah, oh yeah yeah.
But judging from her physique, the knee-dropping line held a bit more meaning in a gay bar, and I knew Bianca was well aware of that. ( but the "thing" that they needed was well-hidden)... While she paraded around the dance floor nearly naked, it was impossible to overlook her smooth washboard stomach  or bulging biceps.  But, I was still perplexed at how such a Michelangelo David body could have such a womanly butt..............Bianca was smart enough to play up her manliness as well as her femininity.  She knew a crowd of gay men ogled her, and she wasn't afraid to appeal to their primal passions.  I made note to remember that for future reference:  Be a woman, but tempt them with a suggestion of man.

The music started to quiet a bit, so I assumed Bianca was nearing her finale especially since she blew a kiss to the audience, sunk to one knee, and bowed her head.  For a moment, she looked humbled.  Still beautiful, but gracefully meek........ slowly her head began to come up and her lips perfectly formed:
                                                         And I am telling you
                                                         I'm not going
Jennifer Holiday's version from Dream Girls was flowing from the speakers, and Bianca was looking directly at Mother with tears in her eyes.  It was then that I realized that this battle was over, and Bianca,the warrior princess, had won.................and then all went black and silent.

No Spot light.

No Music.

No whir from the fog machine.

Nothing.

Nearly Naked

     Bianca was only immersed in the fog for a few brief seconds, so her reappearance was a little more than astounding.  The music had changed to a driving beat of drums and the screech of an electric guitar, and when our minds finally interpreted that Bianca was a short haired blonde with dark roots - reminiscent of the style Madonna wore in her early days --  she was whirring around the pole in the middle of the dance floor.  Her stringy evening gown flew around her and revealed a black velvet cat suit with a silver  bodice.  For just a moment, she hung from the pole while fog climbed up to meet her, and she looked like a cherubic hood ornament from the 1930s, but just as quickly as she'd leapt and spun on the pole, she landed on her stillettos and the strings fell to the floor like wet spaghetti. As her feet met the parque', Whitney Houston's voice came out of her mouth, or it looked that way.........and Bianca became the Queen of the Night.

                                                            I got the stuff that you want
                                                            I got the thing that you need
                                                            I've got more than enough
                                                            to make you drop to your knees

     From out of nowhere, Bianca was suddenly surrounded by four muscle studs wearing only army boots and black speedos, three dropped to their knees in front of her...and one stood behind her and pinned a tall thin glittery rhinestone-studded crown to her head.
                                                          Cause I'm the Queen of the Night
                                                          Queen of the Night
                                                          Oh yeah, Oh yeah, Oh yeah, yeah
    
       Her perfomance was as sharp as her Stilettos.  One of her studly suitors reached up, grabbed her hand and kissed it and then all four of them disappeared into the fog. The Diva Houston could even learn a few things from this queen, I thought to myself. I had never seen a queen be more of a queen than in this moment, and I knew then that I could do it too.........and I would.  My desire and covetousness of her talent seeped out through my lips without me noticing, and Mother overheard me.

     "Oh God, not another one," she said with more than a little disdain in her voice, but then added.  " I knew it."
     "That crown is huge.  Where'd she buy that?" I asked Mother still mesmerized by the spectacle of royal faggotry before me but changing the subject quickly because I still wasn't sure if I wanted to discuss my hidden desire. 
     "Bitch, she didn't buy it.  She EARNED it at a regional pageant." Mother said with an ample helping of pride.
     "Regional?" I asked. "What's that?"
     "It's a prelim to Miss America," she yelled over the adoring screams of the audience.
     "Who were those guys?" meaning the muscle men who had appeared out of nowhere to adore the queen and just as quickly had departed.
     "They're her roofing crew.  Sometimes she hires them for her shows,"Mother replied with a little irritation in her voice.
     "She's a roofer?" and I knew my mouth flew open.
     "Yes, girl....she's a man...a fine looking man....with plenty of manhood," Mother said with a little guttural nastiness in her voice. "Now, shut up...and let me watch the show.  This bitch is peeing all over that stage."
     Of course, I shut my mouth, and instantly my attention was drawn to Bianca's crotch.  I had witnessed so many odd things, that I wouldn't have been totally surprised to have seen Bianca actually peeing on the stage, but I looked..and I didn't see anything...nothing indicated that Bianca was indeed urinating or even a man.  I assumed Mother meant that Bianca was marking her territory on the stage much like a male cat or dog marks its territory, but I wasn't sure of that, so I intermittenly checked out her crotch area during the remainder of the performance, and I'd ask about the colloquialism later......  Bianca strutted across that stage in that cat suit like a rock star.  The tight velvet showed every curve on her feminine physique.  She was built like a brick shit house, and I didn't know at the time of the magic of foam padding.  Even though I knew there was a penis under all of that costume, it was hard to make my mind believe it.  If  I had just walked in and sat down and didn't know I was at a drag show, I would have thought that I was witnessing a superior performance of a woman who sang just like Whitney Houston but looked a little like an early Madonna.   The illusion was only an inch away from reality,but in that moment, it was reality for all of us in the tiny bar in Hot Springs, Arkansas.  It goes without mentioning that the crowd was lined up on two sides of our table waiting for the queen to receive their monetary adoration..and she took it..bill by bill...and when her hands were full, she strutted in front of our table and without a glance, threw the handfuls of bills to the growing pile of Jacks on our table on her way to the other line to receive even more cash from that side..and back and forth she went until this important verse of the song.  On it, she stopped, walked right to Mother and lip synched directly to her.

                                                           You've got a problem with the way that I am
                                                            They say I'm trouble but I dont' give a damn
                                                            But when I'm bad I know I'm better
                                                            I just want to get loose and turn it up for you

     Mother nodded at her; Bianca nodded back and continued to synch....and then Mother reached into her bosom and pulled out a wad of bills....and held them up for Bianca...but Bianca didn't take them right away.  She backed up and did a little drag queen four square, and then took the wad which she separated with her fingers, held them high above the table and sprinkled the individual bills like snowflakes over her pile of cash in front of us. As if to tell the audience, "Look, the old bitch tipped me!"
  Mother stood with tears in her eyes and reached out and hugged Bianca.  Quickly, Bianca accepted Mother's embrace, but during the hug, Bianca looked over at me and rolled her eyes.............then winked at me.  I, of course, smiled back as I got a tiny tingle in my heart.  It felt good for this ravishing queen to even notice me, so I had to stand and offer her my tip.  It just so happened that the song entered an electric guitar interlude, and Bianca grabbed both of my hands and leaned into me.
     "You're hot, baby," she whispered in my ear as I felt a warm tongue lick my lobe.  She placed my hands on her breasts.  I tried to pull away.  Even though I knew they were fake, I just wasn't raised to grab women's boobs..and they felt hard with only minor squoosh.  There was also a little confusion in my mind.  Even though I KNEW Bianca was a drag queen, she just didn't look like a man, so my mind had to take a moment to tell my hands that it was okay for me to touch her boobs..even though they weren't boobs; they were only fake molded foam rubber -- but they had nipples.  I could feel them.  Is this what they meant by gender confusion?
     "Just relax, baby.  Grab onto the top of my bodice, but make sure you don't get my bra..or the bills" she continued to whisper as she ran her hands all over my body and through my hair.  Of course, I complied and just figured it was part of the show.  If I had been able to think, I would have been embarrassed by the way she carressed me -- in places that she shouldn't have touched cuz I was a real man......and  some of my things she was touching were not foam rubber.
    "Now, don't be afraid, but on the  count of three, pull on the top of my bodice...and pull hard..DON'T LET GO...." she said.  I didn't really have time to think, and I wasn't really believing what she was saying.
   "One...two...three" and on three I pulled and she pushed away from me.........and I ripped that cat suit right off of that drag queen.  For more than a minute, I was stunned...and so was the audience.  BUT,  This was a special cat suit.  It was seemed  with velcro, and I heard the sound of velcro scratch and rip as she spun away from me.  The crowd erupted into a frenzy and wadded bills rained on Bianca as she danced in nothing but a bra, a thong, stillettos and a 2-foot-high crown.  Being a drag novice, I still didn't know that she was far from nakedness.  Lord knows, she had at least five pair of panty hose and a few inches of foam that separated her penis and butt from the audience.  I really thought she was nearly naked.
                                                  
                                                  

Bianca was sucked into the fog

Oh no, not I
I will survive
as long as i know how to love
I know I will stay alive
I've got all my life to live
I've got all my love to give
and I'll survive
I will survive

     Bianca  gracefully moved forward but with intention and stood directly in front of Mother much like she'd done on her previous performance, but her attitude was much different this time............and she accepted her tips..all of them.  Fans clamored in adoration of this glorious drag queen, and Bianca didn't budge, so the fans lined up behind and around our table.  Arms were thrust outward all around us (and I'm sure we looked like Kali,  the Hindu god with  multiple arms) holding bills for Bianca to take..and she took..and took..and took..until her hands were full, but she didn't stop simply because her hands were full.  Instead, She threw the clasped bills right in front of Mother..handfull after handfull.( as if she was rubbing mother's nose in it and saying..."Look Bitch, They love me!", and she had that look in her eye too.).. Eventually the table was covered in dollar bills.  Apparently, there was still a level of professional trust between Bianca and Mother because I don't think I would have trusted anyone with all of those bills. ( But heck, if anyone at our table would have tried to pocket anything, the entire bar would have seen it...) Mother's purse became buried under a snowdrift of money, and it would be some time before we'd see it again. I couldn't see red table cloth anymore..just piles and piles of bills...mostly ones..but I saw some 5s, 10s and 20s, too.  (Bianca was smart and tucked the 50 and 100 in her cleavage...I guess she didn't trust Mother THAT much).  Mother Superior and Bianca maintained eye contact through out the song, but Mother didn't offer a single tip; she just gazed and folded her arms across her chest as if to indicate that she refused to tip ............but I tipped Bianca....several times.  The bitch deserved it.  In fact, our entire table tipped her repeatedly -- except Mother -- but it seemed like we had to fight the other arms to get Bianca to take our bills.  Honestly, it was hard to give money away at that point because this idol was having a hard time keeping up with all the money offered to her................and then the music changed abruptly..and for a second or two Bianca was sucked back into the fog and out of our sight.

The Foundations of a Subtle Battle

Miss Greasy Crinilin must have been a theatre major ( and she had been ,but she'd flunked out her sophomore year, I later learned ) because she knew how to work that spotlight in ways that Tonya Lee could have never thought of ( and we've already discusssed why ).  Slowly, like a cat stalking its prey, Miss Crinilin edged the spotlight from the base of the stage to its final destination, but she'd contorted it into a skinny oval shape.  All other lights in the room had been extinguished.  Only the spotlight beamed, and of course the red fairy lights did their flicker in the center of most tables -- ours lacked a fancy candle because Mother had shattered it in her mini-rage to me and the porters had not replaced it when they redressed our table -- and they were probably wise with that decision.

At the very back of the stage, I could barely make out the figure of a woman dressed in black if I squinted; I did take note that Cherry had made no introduction for this queen, and that struck me as odd.........and the music hadn't started either..........but a hush had filled the room.  Only the whir of the fog machine could be heard and the gentle click of heels on the wood parque' stage/dance floor.  No one, including Mother, moved.  We all just sat and waited.  Our curiosity had been aroused at this dramatic beginning of someone's number, and our thirst for the performance had been whetted.

The first few bars of the music seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn't wrap my mind around it....and the spotlight still crept slowly to meet its queen as she inched forward to step into its beam.  Stitch by stitch, it climbed up her sleek, midnight black dress which was actually long fringe that stretched the length of the mysterious performer's body, but none of us would notice that until the chorus of the song. I did notice ample cleavage because her dress appeared to have straps with plenty of boob.  On the first word, of the song -- which was all too familiar, but it was a mix that I'd never heard before -- the spotlight reached the face of BIANCA.

                                  "First I was afraid
                                   I was petrified
                                   Kept thinking I could never live
                                   without you by my side"

This mix of Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive" was much slower than the original version, but I assumed it was building to a climax of epic proportions by the staging. It took a moment for the audience to recognize Bianca --  probably because we didn't expect to see her again on that night after the previous throw-up event, but it could have also had something to do with her wig -- or at least, I thought it was a wig.  I had to turn to Mother and ask what it was.

"It's a skull cap........AND it used to be mine," she managed to say between pursed lips, but she was maintaining her composure much better than before...and I thought she was even enjoying the performance.  Mother kept time to the music with her big toe ( she'd kicked off her size 12 black patent leather heels because she really needed a size 15).  It could have been my imagination, but I thought I saw her moving her lips to the words of the song.  For some reason, I gathered she was a little bit proud of Bianca, but it was only my intuition whispering  in my ear, so I couldn't be sure ( but it was rarely wrong).

The skull cap was fashioned from the same material as the dress: Long black fringe, but it had a string of oval rhinestones that encircled the crown of Bianca's head and one supreme oval rhintestone pendant was centered in the middle of her forehead.  The cap clung closely to her head and was reminiscent of a headdresss in an Erte' print.

                                "But I spent so many nights
                                 thinking how you did me wrong
                                  I grew strong
                                  I learned how to carry on"

The entire scenario reminded me of the final scene of the great Barbra Streisand's FUNNY GIRL when she performed MY MAN on a darkened stage.  I was totally mesmerized, and I could only inhale Bianca's beauty.

                               "and so you're back
                                from outer space
                                I just walked in to find you here
                                with that sad look upon your face
                                I should have changed my stupid lock
                                I should have made you leave your key
                                If I had known for just one second
                                you'd be back to bother me"

Bianca, who'd been standing regally still and only lip synching with perfection and using the fine art of facial expression, spread her black evening-gloved hands ( which had previously hung loosely at her sides ) to reveal more long fringe attached along their seams that hung to her knees and blew slightly in the wind of the fans and over the bubbling fog like sails in a gentle sea..  At this point, I thought  this performance was extemporaneous, and that she hadn't planned it tonight, but I thought she should thank Mitzi for the fog and the fans because it was a spectacular picture to behold.  I'd later realize that this had been one of two choices for her performance this evening, but I wouldn't figure that out until the last few bars of her performance. I also knew that like her previous song, this number was also directed at Mother, but it told a much different story...a defiant testimony, and it did not ask for forgiveness.  I didn't know what else Bianca had planned, but I realized that she had cow-towed to Mother on her first song, but she was preparing to wage an all out war, now...and I couldn't blame her.  I knew that Mother was responsible for Hester; she might not have been directly involved with the puke, but she had planned a disruption of some sort.  All the circumstantial evidence pointed in that direction, and I'd never be able to verify it with total certainty, but I knew..I knew.  The pinch of the leg from a woman that Mother pretended to detest and Mother's surrende of a couple of bills had told me plenty.  Granted, Mother had snatched the 20s out of Hester's hands to make up for the splash of puke...but still...those actions told me all i needed to know.  Somehow or other, the Superior drag queen and the eccentric middle-aged drunk were in cahoots.

So I knew what I knew about Mother, and it didn't surprise me.  I'd known how she was along, but no one is all good and no one is all bad.  She had to cling to her position; it was who she was.  I didn't know much about her past, but I knew she'd been stepped on by other queens in the past, and she was strong enough to prevent that from happening again......But Bianca's reappearance on her stage of shame, told me plenty about her, too.  Apparently, Bianca was resilient and tough, or she would have crawled away like Mitzi had done, and Lord knows that Bianca's humiliation had been magnanimously more than Mitzi's...............and the next few moments would lay the foundations of a subtle battle between a drag queen who refused to reliquish an inch of  her kingdom and one who simply wanted her place within it.

The repaired spotlight came up, barely

"Gurl, if this aint' a hodge podge of haints, I don't know what it is," Mother managed to say between fits of laughter, snorts and table banging...........and she wasn't alone.  I had to concur with her.  Even though there had been some high points in the evening, we had witnessed mainly scag drag, and I had determined that the term "talent" night was a definite misnomer.  Only Cherry Fontaine and Bianca had displayed any true talent, and with Bianca's unfortunate vomit demise, her performance was a bit marred, to say the least.

BUT..I had been entertained, perhaps not in the way the queens had intended but it was much more fun than sitting at home alone in my carpet-up-the-wall apartment pining away for Bart, who had escaped my thoughts for most of the evening, and the freedom had been liberating.  In my mind, I'd taken a little Cher with me, and I think she would have enjoyed the show too.  Where else could I have witnessed a black queen in a blonde wig impersonating Dolly Parton, the resurrection of Mel's Flo with a slightly Frankensteinish air by a "straight" man whose cousin/wife sat only a few seats away from me twirling her hair and making spit bubbles, or witness an Aphroditic drag queen get barraged with barf by a fiftysomething eccentric heiress in a Martian motorcycle helmet?  Even Mitzi's stumble in an ocean of fake fog and subsequent accidental mooning-- which would have made the front page of the town's gay gossip rag -- paled in comparison to all of that.  What else could possibly happen on this evening?

With all of those images being rehashed in my mind, I managed to notice the unheadlining novice queen ( with the bicycle chain grease still evident on her crinilin ) glide through the rumbling fog like she was Jesus walking on water and slip  by us with a cassette tape in her hand.  Mother was still cackling like a goose with the "ene" cousins, so she didn't even notice that there had been a pause in the evening's performances.  I turned around  and squinted through the darkness to see where Greasy Crinilin had gone, and I watched her hand the tape to the DJ, and then she tapped the Spot Light operator on the shoulder -- who was also in drag ( if you can call it that.  I'd later learn that her name was Tonya Lee, and she had been a resident at the town's occupational rehabilitation center for a few years............uhm...well..I think the PC term to describe her is mentally and emotionally challenged, but we would have called her slightly retarded when that word was still possible to use without causing eyebrows to arch.)  Tonya stepped down off the concrete blocks and walked backstage while Greasy Crinilin struck the spotlight a few times with her gloved hands and managed to shake the green gel loose.  She tested each of the other colors and color combinations...red.....blue...purple.yellow..orange...green again..and clear..and they all seemed to be in working order.  No one in the audience seemed to notice the color display dancing atop the fog as several people were up and about gossipping, laughing, exchanging numbers or ordering new beverages. 

The cocktail waitress -- who was looking a bit haggard and needed to touch up her paint-job and re-spray her haphazard up-do -- was running hither-thither trying to get as many orders as she could.  The lesbians -- who were notoriously bad tippers -- had given up getting any service from the drag queen waitress ( and who could blame her for ignoring them since they defiantly refused to tip ?) and they were standing around the bar waiting for some bartender -- whom I'd never seen -- to pop their tops for them -- and from the grimace on his face, I deciphered that they weren't tipping him either....but even in a grimace and from a distance in darkness, the face was nice...........and I suddenly got thirsty.

Siara and Kerry were involved in conversation, or SiAra was talking and Kerry appeared to be listening, but sometimes blank stares can be misleading -- and I secretly hoped SiAra would take Kerry off my hands, but her cough was persistent and rather unattractive with its deep hacking sound, so I knew my hopes would never come to fruition, and Mother was enjoying a lively whoop and holler with Willadean and Mellodean.  Boma Jean was completely spaced-out and still sat spred-legged twirling her hair.  If I would have liked her, I would have cared, but I didn't...so I didn't.  It was a perfect opportunity for me to escape, quench my thirst and do some investigative work concerning the new bartender.  After all, it could be an investment in my future.

I didn't bother to excuse myself like I would have done had I been with my Oklahoma friends; I just slipped quickly out of my chair and walked directly to the back bar.  My eyes met quite a number of stares, and I even garnered a couple smiles and nods along the way.  I'd been instructed years prior by my first boyfriend, Larry, to never return a smile from anyone in a gay bar, or I'd have trouble all night.........and I had adhered to that advice for many years and habit made me cling to it even on this night.  Larry had been my first boyfriend which had also made him my gay teacher by default, and even though I thought some of his advice had been rude and mean, most of it had been correct.  He was the beautiful boy I'd met at the McDonald's drive-thru.  At the time he was instructing me on how to be gay, I hadn't realized he was teaching me how to be a bitch, but being a bitch works, and I have to thank him for that...........He had taught me the look to give to remain unapproachable,and it was tried and true.  Unapproachable is always alluring, and even though someone might know they can never have you, they will still want you............because they can't have you..Unapproachable was necessary in a room of drunk or drugged gay men especially if it was an older crowd.  For some reason, some older gay men thought their persistence was complimentary, but it actually bordered on stalking . On the other hand, there were times when I didn't want to be unapproachable, and that got really confusing especially after I'd already given someone the unapproachable glare several weeks prior.  Like I said, I am a fickle bitch, and underline the word bitch cuz it's true, but men love bitches honey.  They sleep with sluts, but they give their hearts to bitches. 

But when the bartender looked up at me with those doe-eyes when I reached the walnut-slab of a bar, it wasn't his heart that I wanted. Prurient images flashed through my mind, and I had to concentrate to order a cranberry juice.    He ignored the lesbians and immediately poured me some juice much to their chagrin and one ( she was the one with the mullet who'd almost lost her fem to a Sooner that I mentioned earlier )  even said something about lesbian discrimination.  My heart told me he moved quickly cuz he liked what he saw in me.  My mind told me he knew I'd tip so the non-tippers could wait.  I overheard a twink, sitting at a nearby barstool, ask a troll who I was...and the troll replied that I was a bitch. (( Uh huh, I thought, to you, I am, old man... )) I pretended I hadn't heard his assessment of me, but I winked at the twink to spite the troll...and the twink smiled back broadly.  I paid for my drink and tipped the bartender 2 bucks and winked at him, too.  He returned my wink with another wink, and I turned to walk away.  To determine if he'd winked at me for the tip, I turned my head slightly to look at him............No, he'd winked at me because I was me.  When I'd turned around,  he was watching my ass as I walked away....and so was the twink.   It was those moments that told me I was wasting my time with Bart, but my stupid heart was deaf to it all.

When I returned to our table, Mother had her compact open, and she was checking her make-up.  For some reason, she thought she needed to apply some more lipstick, so she did but neatly this time...and then she squirted herself all over with something that smelled like feline flea-spray but came in a pretty crystal bottle with a frosted 3-D plastic flower for its lid.

"Is that too much perfume?  You know, I can't smell a damn thing so I always put too much on," she'd said -- which explained how she'd been able to endure such proximity to the puke.

"Oh, no, it's just.... purrr-fect," I lied with a fake smile, and if she'd known me any better she would have known that I was being facetious by my felonious word choice.  Satisfied, she replaced all of her articles of beauty in her art-deco beaded purse, clicked it shut and placed it neatly on the table in front of her.....Just as she'd lain it down, the repaired spotlight came up,barely.

Mother laughed loudest of all

One of the good qualities that Mother Superior possessed -- and she had many -- was her forthright honesty.  It was a rarity in the South, but she was like me in that regard.  Truth was truth no matter how you painted it, and you might as well just say it like it was...............and she didn't lie about Mitzi's performance.  It did get worse.  I think the worst part of it was that it was boring and lacked creativity.

Mitzi was a less-than-glamorous drag queen wannabe who was dressed in loose gypsy garb trying to sell a song that lacked a climax.  Stevie Nicks could sell it because of her gravelly voice and speculation about withcraft, but Mitzi couldn't. Some people had it, and some did not, but I'd eventually learn that there was a HUGE difference in entertainment value between drag queens and transexuals.  Every now and then the two united and a transy was a good drag queen, but more often than not, transies just weren't performers.  Something other than their outward appearance lurked on their insides and yearned to be set free, but it wasn't talent.  Unfortunately, Mitzi had that bug...and the booty flu, too.  I thought she should just go get the surgery and bake bread for a pot-bellied husband ( and pretend to be barefoot and pregnant ) and forget about the art of drag queenery.  Judging from her performance, she was a definite transy, and NOT a drag queen.............and I'd judged Mother too harshly on her criticism of Mitzi.  She'd been right all along, and the very thing that I admired about Mother -- her honesty -- had offended me the most when she'd told Mitzi the truth about her performance ability.  I was a fickle bitch, but who isn't?  In the future, I'd realize that I was new to this ballgame, and I should sit back and watch a little more before I passed judgment.  Perhaps Mother knew more than I did -- but I hated to admit that -- even to myself.

Of course, I tipped Mitzi.  We all did.  She even had a line of fans on one side of the aisle waiting to offer her monetary accolades, but no one cheered...and the tips were pity tips.  From the look in her eyes, I could see that she knew that, but she trudged onward...........and most of the audience was polite and just waited for it to end...and then there was an interruption in her tape and new music started.

"Oh God," Mother said outloud ( with Mitzi no more than 3 feet away from us ).  "She's made a mix. How long will this shit last?"

"Just a couple more minutes, bitch," Mitzi said to Mother before the words started to her song, and I kicked Mother under the table.

"Well, do something besides just stand there.  This shit is boring," Mother sneered at Mitzi.  I elbowed her hard on that one and immediately thrust a dollar bill into the air to try to make up for Mother's overflowing honesty. 

Mitzi snatched it out of my hand and said to Mother, "Fuck you, you old hag.  All you do is SPIN all over the stage when you do a number.  You don't even know the words."

"Uh!" is all Mother uttered, and I had to hold her arm down to prevent her from getting up and making a total jackass of herself.  She'd done enough of that on this talent night, and Mitzi deserved simple stage respect if nothing else.  Thankfully, Another Stevie song started and Mitzi backed off and moved her arms up and down to the driving notes of her new song. Her shawl had fallen off of her wig, and it made good impromptu wings.  Mother crossed her arms, tapped her foot, and her ears got ketchup red, but she shut her mouth.  Mitzi thrust her hands into the deep pockets of her prarie skirt and threw hand fulls of gold glitter into the air -- and the fans - just as her lyrics started, but something went wrong within seconds of her thrusts.
                                                "Rock on - gold dust woman
                                                 Take your silver spoon
                                                  and dig your grave"

Mitzi started making strange eye contortions, and tears streamed down her face.  At first, I thought that Mother's harsh words had hurt her feelings, and she was crying on stage, but that wasn't the problem at all.  All of that gold glitter that she'd thrown up into the air -- and which had looked simply spectacular in the green spot-light ( and had received the only cheer from the audience that she'd get on this night ) had blown right back into her face and eyes.  She warbled around for a few more beats to the song, and then her heels got entangled in her prarie skirt, and she went down..down..down into the rumbling fog.  If that wasn't bad enough, the spot light operator honed in on her as she tried to crawl away, and all the audience could see was her panty-hose covered butt as she crawled away to the dressing room and out of her humiliation.  It was an interesting sight because her arms were concealed by the rolling clouds, and all we could see was her ass -- in hane's sheer-to-the-waist fawn beige.  I guess the skirt must have come up and she just shined her moon at us.  (( I, secretly, thought to myself that it was intentionally aimed at Mother, but I'd never be able to verify that for sure because Mitzi refused to ever discuss that night again, and she hung up her tiara forever after that.))

Initially, the audience didn't know what to do.  Everyone at our table exchanged glances, and there was a beat of silence then all at once, as if the entire room had an invisible conductor, the place erupted into a cacophony of laughter..and Mother laughed loudest of all.