Drag in July

A large puff of cigarette smoke descends from their puffed out lips. The o shape not hiding the ever present frown. 

 

-Boy, i don’t do this shit because i like it- they snarl at me as they toss a stocking the size of a deep sea trawling net at my downturned head. It misses.

 

-I do this …. thing… to get paid and this is the month we get it made. So make sure all my costumes are ready. Buy me all the brown lipstick you can fid. it is time to cash in.-

 

-So you don’t really care about expressing your inner divine nature -

 

-Shush with that shit - they snarl, -Huny i told you this is a game and i play it well- *fingers rolling against each other like their is beeswax in between.*

 

-Then how do you even get booked? Can’t people tell its fake?-

 

-You think these big companies give a damn whether im real or not? They just want to meet their quota, get all they can out of this diversity scam and show that they care about the queer community, but you watch come July they won’t be hiring any guy dressed up in girls clothes. They go back to hosting talk shows with people who are not so loud, too flamboyant too EXPRESSIVe.- 

 

The word sounds like venom coming out of rattlesnakes teeth on a hot dusty day landing on sizzling rocks in an arced spray. It lands on my face and I twitch away to shield myself.

 

I quiet down and return to folding the many dresses and skirts that are full of thick black hairs, straight from the devils back. 

 

-Got anymore questions boy?-

 

I think while i stare down at my ratty white shoes dimly aware of the noise rising from the laundry mat below us. The turn of the dryers sounds like my mind repeating -When will it be mine?-

 

I brave the fear in my throat and ask,

 

-When will it be my turn to take that stage? that’s what you promised remember! That if I took care like a squire you would teach me to channel my inner queer to free from the distress living with my homophobic dad who simultaneously caressed me when he got too drunk..-

 

-Boy i know the story enough already. You obviously ain’t ready over there crying and shit. You gotta learn to take no shit from anybody. To be the baddest there is. Now come here and pop the zit 

I can’t reach on my back. You know how it aches after i act.-

 

-Yes SugarSquirrel-

 

-Ooh that feels good, one day we gone get you up on that stage you just wait and then they gonna see you tapping away with those little feet that dig into my back so nice.-

 

-One day they gonna see me tapping away- I repeat in my mouth as the snake comes out of its hole. 

 

-But until that day you gone take care of me cause i am the only family you got, the only one who worries when you are out, the only one who ever gave a damn about your well being. Why you think i let you stay here? Cause i need you? Don’t make me laugh.-

 

-thank you- i whisper.

 

-I didnt hear you-

 

-thank you- i cough out through the ever present cigarette smoke.

 

-Just for that, for being a good boy, we gonna give you a stage name.-

 

-Are you serious?- 

 

My face lights up like a lighthouse beam.

 

-Yeah how about … sparkly digs. Whatcha think of that?-

 

-I think its perfect!- 

 

Sparkly Digs dances across a broadway sign in my mind.

 

Bubbles float in through the second story window and i dance across the room to open it further, to let them in. 

 

-Boy close that damn window!- SugarSquirrel roars -you know i hate the cold drafts-

 

It’s mid June in New York, hot as all hell, i think -how could they possibly be cold?- but i slide the window shut slowly trapping several bubbles inside. Too slowly i guess because i hear them rise, with the massive labored breath it takes to move themselves out of the armchair, and the slow heavy thud of the foot as it plants to wind up, the arm sailing through the air to smack the sense into me, but this time the bubbles guide my dance, and the hand flashes through nothing but a stray bubble. 

 

The momentum sends them straight through the window over the balcony edge all wrapped up in the silk scarf they had yet to make me undress// i desperately catch the long wailing hand and wedge myself between the grates pulling with all my might. There is nothing to be done, the massive body hangs limp, an array of colors, a final costume change; the piñata swinging above the dull sidewalk cement. 

 

i curl my lip and pick up the post-it for the show tomorrow, dialing the digits i say into the phone 

 

-Can you switch the name on the show to Sparkly Digs, theres been a change of character-

 

i sit in the armchair and light a cigarette while bubbles drift past my head.