Tony fished his head for words. “I don’t know. It’s just so bum, bum, bum.”
“Neither do I. Wanna dance?”
“Oh, no,” Tony said. “In these boots? I’d kill myself!”
“My name’s Burt. Some call me Burp. Call me Burt. I do some original music here. I’m no Gorgio Moroder but I’m not punk rock either. What’s your name?”
“Tony. You’re a DJ?”
“Sometimes. I also help create original music for some of the shows. You could say I give my friend Snake Lady a little sparkle.”
“Okay.” Tony wondered if he should mention Michael by name. “Do you like Snake Lady?”
“Anybody that pretty is bound to be vain.”
Tony nodded, wanting to hear more warnings about Michael.
Burt leaned close. “You have beautiful hair.”
“W-what?” Tony wasn’t sure he understood Burt correctly.
“You have really nice hair,” Burt repeated. “I just had to tell you that. That’s okay, isn’t it?”
“Well, I suppose,” Tony said, blushing, “if that’s what you thought. Okay.”
“I just like the way it looks so casual. I want to run my fingers through it.”
“Your fingers?”
“Yeah.”
Tony said, “That’s really dumb.”
Burt insisted, “No, it’s not.”
Tony looked around nervously. “Not here, god forbid!” He wondered if the people in the bar considered them a couple now. His chest tightened.
“Of course I wouldn’t do it here,” Burt assured him. “People never touch each other here.”
“I have a girlfriend who insists there’s orgy rings in the suburbs,” Tony stated.
“Your friend must be talking about straight people. They’re pretty twisted and about as sensuous as dead cows. Screw ‘em. We could go to my car out in the lot and I could run my fingers through your hair there.”
“Woah. That’d be silly.”
“No it wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, it would.” Tony suddenly felt his feet too hot in his boots as tiny slam dancers inside his chest moved down to more primal areas in his underwear and he wished the sensation would just go away, since he was in public.
Smiling as if he’d merely given an invitation for coffee, Burt said, “I could lick you down there like you were an ice cream cone.”
Tony blinked twice in disbelief. “Shut up.” He took a sip of his Pepsi and tried to ignore the man.
“Come on,” Burt coaxed. “You’re really adorable and as horny as anybody else with a pulse. I want to lick your balls as you jack yourself off and then come in my hair. That’s not too weird… not if you decided it ain’t.”
Tony tried to keep a calm face. “I just don’t do things like that.”
Burt shrugged. “Why not?”
Tony wiped the sweat from his upper lip. “I just don’t… don’t do. Just don’t.”
“I won’t hurt you. Look at me.”
Tony did. Burt’s shimmering eyes looked sad—like a very good actor.
“I just want to get you off. Don’t you like to get off? Who in the hell doesn’t like to get off?”
“Well, um,” Tony stammered, embarrassed. “That’s my business what is done, er, do… what I do, right?”
“Weren’t you ever taught to share?”
“Share?”
“People shouldn’t be alone. Play with me. Just close your eyes and think about it. You’re sitting in the backseat of my car and I’m doing all the work. You want a blowjob? I’ll give you a total blowjob! Today you get lucky!”
Tony looked nervously about the room, feeling his heart flutter as the millions of tiny internal slam dancers squeezed forcibly down between his legs, trying to smash out to riot and burn down the city. He wondered if it was possible he could just pass-out. As his fingertips fluttered on his glass he laughed nervously.”
“You haven’t actually said no yet. You can’t, can you?”
Tony thought he’d burst into tears. The little slam dancers raced back and forth in furious unison trying to topple him off his stool until he wanted desperately to kick off his boots and socks and breathe. “Huh?”
Burt grabbed the back of Tony’s neck, pulled him forward a bit and kissed him on the mouth. “Let’s find out. Let’s go play ball now. To the car.” Tony gasped, suddenly feeling like there wasn’t enough air in the room.
A bleach-haired woman with the same cut as Burt’s stepped up to them. “Hoooneeey.”
“Oh, hello, dear,” Burt said to her, defeated.
She fiddled with her own Swatches, which were more than his. “Burt, put your wigwam away. I wanna go home. I’ve a crashing headache. I wanna lie down.”
He said to Tony, “Ah, yeah, uh, have you met my wife, Daphne Doo-wit?”
Tony asked, “Wife?”
“It is not Doo-wit, twit. Don’t be such an ass.” She winked at Tony. “You’re cute. Are you bi? Please god, say yes. We just love bi boys and we can go and do a three-way and I get treats, too… but not tonight. My head really hurts bad.”
Burt pointed his finger at her angrily. “Did you have a Coors? That’s all Republican piss and it’ll kill you!”
Daphne made sure the clock faces on her own Swatches were lined up. “No, I had a mixed drink, something that flirting lesbian over there was drinking. I didn’t pay for it, thank god. I think it’s what they use to try and grow hair on their chest. Oooh, was it strong!”
“Bi?” Tony looked at Burt in confusion.
“If you’re smart,” Burt advised Tony, “you’ll stay away from the gentler sex. It’s all a front… they’re not gentle.”
“Come on, dear. Pack up your boner and let’s yankee doodle.” She took Burt’s arm as he’d taken Tony’s. “Up, before I curl up on the floor and nap right here.”
Daphne yanked her husband off the stool and they quickly left, leaving Tony in a maddening fog, his tiny slam dancers scrambling.
The bartender grabbed his empty glass and said, “I saw that and that was rude! You get a free Pepsi on the house if you promise not to sue us.”
“Sure.”
He blasted more pop into his glass, adding, “A little more caffeine and you’ll be ready to dance.”
Tony looked around and wondered if everybody was secretly laughing at him. He watched a man dance alone in a dated fringe dress and platinum wig, obviously bombed, holding his hands up to the blinking lights. The queen stumbled in his pumps but caught himself without tearing his gaze from the lights.
The bartender came back to Tony, nodding towards the queen. “Miss Desmond isn’t the well woman we once thought she was, now is she?” Tony bobbed his head to agree. “Her wig is so teased it looks irritated,” the bartender added.
“Oookay.”
“Would you like another refill?”
Tony shook his head and headed for the door.
* * * * *
That night Tony dreamt that he was at the river on a wall of sandbags and he wanted to touch Michael. Michael asked, “Do you love me?”
Tony shrugged. “Men don’t say that to each other.”
Michael asked, “Not even you and your dad?”
“No.”
Michael smiled. “Well then love me anyway. Love me however you want. We just won’t talk about it.”
Tony reached over and he touched Michael’s pants. The river suddenly burst through the wall and shot water in a ferocious hot blast into their laps. He woke up with wet underwear. He got up and changed, annoyed, then went back to bed. He hugged his pillow feeling alone. He wondered how he could ever stop such a horrible feeling.
* * * * *
The next day in what little of the town that could be called “uptown,” Michael stepped inside Chippy’s for a small Polka Fries since that was all he could afford. He scanned the crowd hoping one day he’d see somebody in Milldam who looked as hip as himself. He chuckled at himself for feeling so superior.
&nb
sp; Then he froze and blanched at the sight of a flannel shirt in one of the seats, knowing immediately whose body was filling it. The person’s back was to him so he could choose to sneak out if he wanted. He thought about it, decided to sneak away, but went up to the counter instead, counted out his coins, and ordered his fries to stay. He momentarily considered whether he was possessed.
“Hi, Tony.”
Tony startled, quickly looking up from his Polka Fries, then licked the watered-down ketchup from his finger. Michael stood before him holding an orange plastic tray, smiling bashfully. Tony opened his mouth wanting to say something wonderful. “Hi. Good stuff here.” He blushed.
Michael asked, “May I join you?”
“Okay.” Tony scrambled to clear a place at the small table, stammering an invitation. He almost knocked his pop onto the floor, catching it on the way over. He quickly sucked on the straw as if he’d done it all on purpose.
Michael lowered himself into the attached orange chair. “Where’s Eliza?”
“Lizzi.” Tony rolled his eyes. “She’s usually stuck to me like Velcro, huh. I don’t know where she is right now so her mom probably has stuff for her to do.”
Michael nodded, trying to think of something to say. “Whatcha been up to?”
Tony was silent for a spell and then finally offered, “Oh… nothing much.”
Michael acted overly macho. “Eh, how’s it hanging?”
“Okay.”
“How are you?”
Tony shrugged uncertainly. “Oh, okay.”
“That’s nice. Sorry I was a jerk to you at my apartment the other day… so grabby and all.”
“It’s… okay. I’m alive.”
Michael squirted ketchup. He ate a fry.
Tony watched him chew.
“School out today?”
Tony nodded. “It’s over by now. It doesn’t go all day long. Is that your lunch? You on a diet?”
“Oh!” Michael shirked comically as if he never knew what was going on. “Boring day, huh?” He waited for Tony to agree.
Tony nodded. “Yeah.”
“Well, Tony, I’m bored, too.”
“Oh?”
“Tragically bored.”
“Oh? Okay.” Tony laughed.
After silence, Michael pulled the pamphlet out of his pocket. “We don’t need factory farms. We need environmentally sound and sustainable agriculture.” Michael rolled his eyes and tossed the piece of paper onto the table.
“What was that?”
“You didn’t get one outside?”
“Oh.” Tony looked out the window. “That’s what they’re doing out there?”
“I grew up on a farm. Ugh.” Michael moaned. “I would have gladly been replaced by a robot.”
Tony said. “They say it’s a good way to grow up.”
Michael looked down at his own arms. “It gives some farm boys nice arm muscles. Some farm boys toss hay bales… but some of us just dragged them slowly across the ground in great angst.” Michael pulled a horrendous face.
Tony chuckled.
After more silence, Michael finally sighed. “It’s a hell of a boring day.” Awkward minutes passed. He started to chew on a plastic straw. “What’re you doing after this?” Michael asked.
Tony carefully cleared his throat. “Oh, I was just going to walk around.”
Michael nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds mighty important… mind if I come along?”
Tony shrugged then inspected the grease stains on his napkin. “I don’t know.”
Michael painfully swallowed. “Hey, I’m really sorry about that warped scene in my apartment and all. I was really out of line. I guess I’ve just been watching too many Road Runner cartoons.”
Tony looked up at him, then back down to his napkin which he began tearing into strips. “Oh, it’s okay. Nothing happened. Nothing at all.”
“I know. I scared you and you ran out of the place.”
Tony shrugged. “I was the one being a dork.”
Michael felt relieved if not absolved. Nevertheless, he felt the need to pardon himself again and again. “I just feel dumb about it. I hope you weren’t horrified that I’d played Snake Girl at a carnival. It was weird, sure… but everything was weird back then.”
“Yeah. I mean, no. It’s cool.”
Michael’s small packet of fries was now long gone. He folded the greasy paper packet into a tiny triangle. He felt uncomfortable in his hard chair and looked up at the faded blue polka-dot platters that clung to the white ceiling. “I should probably leave you in peace. I like to window shop alone, anyway. Sometimes. I don’t mind.”
“No, no! The company would be nice!”
Michael’s eyebrows shot up. “Great!”
“Yeah. Tell me all about Snake Girl. That sounds… amazing!”
“It’s a date.”
“Huh? Date? Er… yeah. Okay.”
“But I have to warn you, Snake Girl didn’t do anything. No adventures. Snake Girl was just stuck on that table the whole time.”
Tony smirked. “You can tell me about the adventures of Michael, then.”
As they walked to the woods along the river, Michael said, “I ran away from home when I was in Junior High. I ended up a while later in Chicago on the streets and from there met a carnie who told him I looked just like a girl, something I’d heard many times before.” Michael decided not to mention that he’d used that to his advantage in blowjobs on straight men. That first carnie he met was a perverted pederast wanting girls who were too young and he was infuriated to discover that he was paying for sex in the alley with a pretty boy. But it got Michael his start. Michael continued his story. “He offered me the job as Snake Girl. He said it was getting harder and harder to find real women who were willing to sit there all day and pretend to be something like that for that little money. He said women’s lib was ruining the gig. It was a dream come true for me. I could be a girl and be a fantasy that people looked at in wonder, and do it in the safety of a carnival. Though I was still just being paid for my head,” he winked, “nobody could touch me and I still made money. It was a lot of money for me.” Michael blushed. “For the next two years I never missed a meal or a warm bed. I’m pretty sure I was the only gay there so everybody left me alone, or at least there wasn’t any pederast types after boys. Everybody was impressed with how professional I was about being Snake Girl all day long every day seven days a week, when we were set up. After two years my shaving stubble became too obvious and when the stuffed snake really did rip open one hot day, Snake Girl was dead. The trailer was returned to Florida to the carnival’s home base. I went on to do other things. And that’s the story of Snake Girl! Of Michael! Of me!”
* * * * *
Hours later at the gay bar Michael and Tony sat facing each other at a corner table. Soft Cell was playing but Michael could tell that wasn’t what was on Tony’s mind. He was hoping that Tony was thinking about how they had just been in the woods kissing each other for a while. They did nothing but kiss on the lips and it was so sweet.
“What are you thinking about?” Michael asked.
“Why’s everybody noticing us?”
Michael glanced about the dark room and made a haughty face. “I work here so everybody knows who I am but they don’t know who you are so they’re all terribly curious… of course.”
Burt traipsed up to them, pretending not to know Tony. “Ho!”
“Ho, Burp. Where’s the Swatch clone?”
“My wife? Not here tonight.”
Michael looked around anyway, then said, “I’d like to you meet my favorite bacchante!”
“Bacchan…?” Tony asked, blushing, getting the hint that he was to pretend he’d never met Burt. “Okay.”
Michael laughed. “Bacchante. That’s a priestess of Bacchus.”
“Hmmm.” Tony thought fast. “That’s the god of beer?”
“Wine,” Burt stated. “My name’s Burt. What do you think of this… debacle?”
Tony looked briefly at Burt. “This what? This game?”
“The bar.”
“Oh, yeah.” Tony shrugged, looking at Burt’s three Swatch wristwatches so he could avoid his face. “It’s fine, just fine.”
“Excuse him,” Michael said to his date. “Burt’s life goal is to be confusing.”
“True,” Burt concurred.
Michael rolled his eyes. “Burt has a wife and garden in the suburbs. He’s evil.”
Burt pouted. “I do what I want and you make fun of me.”
“Evil! Evil!”
“I’m bi,” Burt explained.
Michael added, “We let him in because he does the music here and he’s okay. He’s a self proclaimed fang… I mean shaman.”
“Shaman?” Tony asked.
Burt waved his arms around. “I see beyond this mortal coil. I hear the rhythm.”
“Okay.” Tony didn’t seem convinced so he looked to Michael for assurance. “You believe him?”
“I try not to.” Michael pursed his lips. “I only listen to my stomach and all that intelligent matter that fills up my condom… oh… also my fashion magazines.”
Burt replied, “We soothsayers don’t expect any respect but we give our thankless advice anyway. The world needs our advice. To give yourself advice is like trying to tickle yourself. It don’t work.” He took Tony’s hand and opened its palm. Tony resisted. “Hold still! I can’t read a blur!”
Michael didn’t like the sight of Burt holding onto Tony’s hand. “What tricks do you have up your grub hole?”
Burt looked at Tony with a roguish expression in his green eyes. “I can see right here in the lines of your palm that you’re trusting and considerate.”
Michael scoffed, “Would I be seen with someone who wasn’t nice?”
Tony grinned.
“Quite an ingénue!”
Michael explained, “He just called you Little Red Riding Hood.”
Burt nodded. “And she’s met a mangy flea-bitten wolf in heat. Now be careful.”
“It’s too late.” Michael grinned in a very naughty way.
Tony pulled his hand away.
“Don’t do that!” Michael scolded Tony. “He’ll turn you into a troll.”
Burt leaned closer to Tony. “Don’t worry so much.”
Snake Girl VS the KKK Page 7