By Jaelle Terrell

It was about 7:00 on a Friday, and the light rain stopped as dusk began to settle in.  He was still wearing his red Lowe’s vest as he drove down the divided road.  He admired the big stone church on his right. “St. John and Paul.” “I’ve never been in there.” He wasn’t Catholic, but he loved the stately old architecture. “I’ll bet it’s lovely inside.”

And on the other side of the street, he saw the bar. George & Ringo’s. The obvious Beatles reference always made him chuckle.  He had never stopped. Never been inside. Something today pulled at him as he drove past. People were milling around in the parking lot. They were brightly feathered. Sparkly. Something just clicked, and he jerked the car into the parking lot. The gravel crunched as he pulled into a parking spot. Some ladies were crossing to the door as he got out of his car. Some big ladies. 

“Look at this cute little boy” 

”Ooh child, come and see Mama.” 

“Now you all just leave this little boy alone!” a matronly woman clucked at the other two. Then, to him, “Don’t you pay them ho’s no mind. Them two don’t mean you no harm, child.” She opened the door for him and they entered the little club. 

His eyes swept the room. Rainbow colors everywhere. Glitter. Lights. It just seemed so… happy. The club was filled with tables and chairs, mostly facing the little stage in the corner. A couple of people sat at the bar. A small group of women stood chatting at the end of the bar. A peal of laughter erupted. For the first time, he looked at the faces of the women. Their makeup was… extreme. “They’re drag queens!” he realized. “This must be a gay bar!” 

One of the queens spotted him and walked to him. No. Sashayed. “Well, who is this pretty little boy?” “Is he yours?” 

“No,” his new companion answered. “I found him in the parking lot.” 

“So what brings you to our little house of sin?” She turned her big eyes on him. 

He flushed, looked at the floor, and stammered, “I was just driving past, and I… I don’t know… I just…” 

“Clearly, the child cannot converse.” 

“And fate just delivered you to us!” his escort from the parking lot announced firmly and loudly, taking him by the arm. 

“Now Mother, you’re not…” 

“Relax Titzi, sacred, I assure you.” “I’m just going to show him around.” And to him, “You’re okay, aren’t you sugar?” 

He stammered, “Yes, I just…” 

“There, you see?” “The boy is fine.” 

Guiding him by his arm, she glided to the bar. “Girls, meet the wandering stranger.” “Stranger, meet the girls.” 

The three queens voiced friendly if bawdy, greetings. He muttered back. 

“Oh, don’t you worry.” “Their bark is worse than their bite,” Mother said. “Their teeth ain’t real.” They all laughed loudly. Even he ventured a small chuckle.  “Have you ever been in a gay bar?” 

“No,” he said a little too loudly. “No, I haven’t.” “I just thought the name is too funny.” “Right across from St. John & Paul.” 

“Oh, that was Ringo’s idea,” she said, hooking her thumb at the bartender. “He’s my husband and we own this little island of lost souls,” Fixing her eyes on him, she asked, “What do you know about drag?” 

“Nothing really. Men dressing up like girls? RuPaul?” 

The girls groaned and muttered a little and Mother said, “Child, drag is art. Drag is entertainment. It’s blue …” 

“Blue?” he asked. 

Peering at him, “Boy, didn’t your mama teach you nothing?  Blue means risque. Bawdy.” She sighed. “Fucking dirty, okay?” They all chuckled. 

He looked at her sheepishly, listening intently as Mother went on. “Drag is a concept art that goes way back. Three hundred years ago. Shakespeare times.” 

“At least that’s as far as Mother goes back with it!” the queen known as China Vagina quipped. Roars of laughter.

“Traditions passed down across generations from mother to daughter.”

“Mother to daughter?” 

“Haha. Yes.” “I had a drag mother, and she had one, and so on.” “And I have a couple of daughters today.” “Where my babies at?” 

Two of the girls raised their hands. One said, “Hello mother.” 

“Young man,” Mother said in a very grand voice, “You are in for a treat.” “Because tonight,” she straightened up and raised her finger in the air, “Tonight we have the finest drag show on the planet!” 

Titzi spouted, “Well. Maybe Cleveland.” 

China Vagina added, “Cleveland Heights.” 

“This room!” 

“All right,” Mother said. “We have a drag show.” And turning, she said, “And it’s as good as you bitches are… or as bad.” “Anyway, come with Mother.” She led him up across the little stage. He blinked at the lights as they passed through a door that led backstage. 

Backstage was a short hall with a couple of doorways. Mama opened the first door on the left and swept into the room. Two men were sitting at the long table that stretched along the length of the room. It was divided into stations, each with a mirror and lights. 

“This is where they beat their faces.”  And seeing his confusion, she added, “put on makeup.”

“New talent?” the first queen sniffed.  “What do you do?” “Fish? Club? Pageant?”

“Well, she’s too camp for camp,” the second queen said. 

The boy said, “No.” “I just… I just…” 

“Girls, girls.” “Let’s play nice.” “He’s just a boy who wandered in from the cold who wanted to see where the other children play.” 

Just then, the other girls exploded into the dressing room with a small uproar. China said, “Ma, Ringo needs you at the bar.” 

“Okay, honey.”  And turning, “You bitches don’t scare the fresh trade.”

“Yes, Mother,” in unison.

Mother left and the girls crowded around the young stranger.

“What’s your name?” 

“Do you live around here?”

“What kind of car do you drive?” 

“Ladies, ladies.” “Let the boy breathe!” Sitting down, she patted the chair next to her, saying, “Come sit by me.” “What brings you here?” All the girls turned and gazed at him, breathlessly waiting. 

“Well, I was just driving home from work.” He pointed to his red vest. “I go by here every day.” “I don’t know, something made me pull in the drive.” He looked up with a little grin and added, “And the next thing I know, I’m here.” 

“That’s Mother,” Titzi said and they all laughed. 

“So,” she stood behind him and gripped his chair. “What’s next?” She spun him around to see the wide-eyed boy staring back at him from the mirror. 

Reaching for a glue stick, she asked, ”Want to see how drag makeup works?” They set upon him, poking and prodding, plucking and painting him. 

“Ooh, her eyes are so pretty!” one girl squealed. He sat there, turned away from the mirror. He was nervous, but he understood that he was not to move under their brushes. And he was intrigued. He had never considered girls’ makeup. Somehow, it was thrilling. 

Finally, the girls pulled back. “I think she’s ready.” 

“No, no. She needs hair.” 

“And earrings!” 

He was dying to see himself in the mirror. They were almost done. A wig was produced — a giant confection of auburn hair. 

“Now you need a wig cap.” 

Ziiip. “And just a bit of carpet tape.” 

Gigantic emerald earrings were produced, the green stones sparkling in the lights. “Et voila!” Titzi spun him around. 

He eagerly looked in the mirror. What he saw was a woman. A beautiful woman was looking back at him. He gulped. Those eyes were definitely his, but that face? 

“Girls, I think she likes it.” 

“Say, honey, what is your name?”

~ Jaelle Terrell

copyright©2022 Jaelle Terrell