Saturday, March 13, 2021

Hey! You! Get Out of My Way! Enter the Ninth Circle Part 4

I make a loop through the club, knife held high and muumuu billowing. “You look really scary!” Mitch says, “Just like Piper Laurie.” “You look great!” Steve adds. Various patrons begin filling my head, telling me how great I look. “Get to work,” says Seth, coming around the corner and pointing to the trays sitting on the bar. “Damn,” I think to myself, he shouldn’t sneak up on people like that. Nice costume,” I say to Seth out of the corner of my mouth. “Idiot,” he says to me, “I’m not wearing a costume.”


I grab my tray and turn on my heel. I walk over to a large bunch of people sitting near the door. I look around at all the various “
sexy costumes” everyone is wearing in the group. One of the group jumps when he looks at me. “Yikes,” he says and waves me away with his hand adding the word, “Go.” I see him call over another waiter dressed as a sexy caveman. Undaunted, I move on.


“Hi,” I say to another group. “Can I get you ahhhhhhhh?!” I stop in mid-sentence; someone has stepped on the back of my muumuu, causing my head to snap back. I turn around and try to drag my costume out from under his foot. The guy standing on my muumuu is paying me no attention, so I begin tugging at my dress, trying to free it from under his foot. This causes the corner of it to rip. He then looks at me, annoyed. “You ripped my dress,” I say to him.  Unfazed, he wrinkles his brow “You look nothing like Stevie Knicks,” he says to me. “Are you drunk?” I respond, “Its clear that I’m Piper Laurie from Carrie.” “Never heard of her,” he responds turning on his heel. ‘Are you out of your miahhhhhhhhh!” Someone else has stepped on the side of my muumuu, causing me to drop my tray and pitch off balance. “Thank God I have no drinks on that tray,” I think to myself.

All night long people have been stepping on my costume, so now I am standing in the ladies room, dressed in tatters with my wig on crooked. The ladies room is the only place that everyone goes to do coke, so I am not alone but no one is bothering me. Every now and then the occasional lady has to use the bathroom to pee, so people have to clear out. 

 

“Honey, you ok?” a drag queen in a sexy witch costume asks me. “I have had a rotten fucking night; the only money I made was when someone paid me a quarter to go away,” I say. “Ohhhhhh, honey it’s alright,” she says to me, patting the side of my head where the fall is now sitting. “I hate to do this,” she adds, “but can I borrow that quarter? I have to make a call.” “Seriously?” I say, handing over the money.

She runs out of the bathroom and down the stairs. I begin to put together what’s left of my dignity and remove my costume. Underneath, I’ve had the good sense to wear a black t-shirt, shorts, and little boots. I tie a knot in my t-shirt and walk downstairs dressed as a sexy barmaid.

Almost everyone has left, except for our regular inebriates. “Have a shot,” Steve says to me with bloodshot eyes. “Can I have four?” I ask. I look at my painted gravestones; some stupid queens have written their names 
on my work. Most of the gravestones now say, “Paul + Nick” or “Bobby loves Neil.” It’s been such a lousy night; I have no costume, no money, and no buzz. It’s time to go home.

Tomorrow night I get to work my other job at The Ninth Circle.


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