Snake Girl VS the KKK

by Peter Joseph Swanson

  Kirk looked around in confusion. “Huh?”

  Tony pushed Michael away. “Didn’t you already turn thirty? And can you put something real on? I’m standing here with my boyfriend and I don’t want you to scare him off with you just being so naked around us like that.”

  Kirk drolly said, “I’m scared.”

  Michael grabbed a yellow silk kimono from a cardboard box and put it on. Michael asked Kirk, “Are you twenty one yet? I hope not. I hope I can corrupt the young while they’re still that way. They say it’s illegal to serve minors. But who am I to let the Pilgrims tell me what to do?”

  “I’m twenty.”

  “Oh.” Michael waved him off. “Tony, you’re being awfully literal about playing with things closer to your own age?” Michael smiled big. “Yes, I turned him into a pagan.” Michael jumped up and threw off his kimono and stepped into a blue pleated Catholic schoolgirl skirt. “I have many skills.”

  Kirk said, “Tony told me you’re also a poet.”

  Tony added, “A great poet. Sometimes he starts to bawl when he’s writing. Especially when he’s plowed. That’s how much he impresses himself with his greatness!”

  “Yes, I’m a poet. I’m more then just some hotdog stand. I’m working at it, anyway.” Michael made a very sour face. “I’m not deluding myself. You aren’t really a poet unless you’ve been published. And still, not until you get to be on the Johnny Carson Show. That’s the only sign of realness anybody goes by anymore these days. But the age of art is dead. It died last year when I was a great drag queen on a stage at Jacquelyn’s Cabaret in Milldam. That stage was so classic. So old it rotted. It’s now condemned. The whole place closed. Now that’s a classic. Everything has rotted away in Milldam. That’s what you get for being so close to the river. So it’s all over. All dull. No art in old neat places anymore.”

  Kirk asked, “Milldam. Where’s that?”

  Tony said, “Down the Mississippi River between here and Mark Twain.”

  Michael said, “I’m the next Mark Twain.” The phone rang. Michael grabbed it. “Hello. You are speaking to a great poet.”

  “Hello? Michael?”

  Michael almost dropped the phone. “Fuck me!” He said to Tony, “Oh, my god! It’s my brother! Aaah! From that farm full of farm animals!”

  Tony pointed to the phone. “Well talk to him, then.”

  “Hello? Hello! Michael? Dude! Are you there?”

  Michael replied, in a low dull monotone, back to the mouthpiece, “Oh. Hi. Hey. How ya doing? Dude! How’s the fishin’?”

  “I don’t know how to tell you this so I guess I just have to come out and tell you. Mom and Dad are dead.”

  “What? How! Say what? What did you say?” He said to Tony with a hiss, “Get me a beer!” He returned to the phone. “Hello? Hello? What the hell? Both?”

  “Well don’t be such a spaz and give me a chance to explain. They were gored by the bull.”

  “Bull.”

  “I’m serious.”

  Michael looked around the room in confusion. “What?”

  “The bull. We have a bull on the farm! You know that!”

  “But how?”

  “They were both gored by the bull. Both of them.”

  Michael’s voice became pinched with emotion. “Where? How? Why? How?”

  “It happened just past the creek behind the barn.”

  “How? How? How?”

  “I don’t know for sure I wasn’t there. It was odd. Some gates were open. The bull was in the field behind the barn. It’s never supposed to be that close to anybody. You know how Dad always would give us a warning every morning about what field the bull was in so that we’d know not to go there and get caught...”

  “…with our pants down?”

  “Michael, only you would put it that way.”

  Michael felt faint. “Wait a minute! Did you just say Mom and Dad are… dead? It killed them both dead? They won’t get better?”

  “Dead.”

  “But how come they didn’t just sew them back up?”

  “Because it killed them.”

  “Oh!” Michael moaned. “But that’s so… that’s so awful! It’s finally sinking in. I think. If something like that can sink in. But they were alive. I saw them just last year and there they were! They stood there over that potluck hoo-ha like they were going to live forever! They looked at me! They looked at me! You have to be so alive to do a thing like that! How can they be dead? Horrible accidents like that only happen to people somewhere else, to the bad people!”

  “Stop it. Get a grip. Nobody lives forever and the good ones go to Jesus. Mom and Dad were the good ones… they had Jesus. They’re in heaven so it’s cool. You know Mom and Dad were with Jesus in the right way so they’re okay, now. Are you coming home to be at the funeral… and help?”

  “Help with what?”

  “Stuff. Help get rid of all the stuff in the house, for one?”

  Michael asked, “How?”

  His brother said, “A farm sale, I guess. You get a cut of that money. And there might be some stuff you want to keep.”

  “Oh. Sure. I’ll hop the Greyhound. I’ll call you when I get to Milldam. You have the same number?”

  “Yep,” His brother answered. “The one you never use. You bringing that girlfriend again?” He smirked.

  “Why’d you smirk?”

  His brother smirked again. “Nothing.”

  “She joined the Army. Watch it. I gotta go.” Michael slammed the phone and then sprawled out on the floor. “I’m upset. My brother was on the phone. That was too upsetting. My parents are dead, I think. I think it’s real. It can’t be real. But he called me so it’s real. He never calls me. So it’s real.” Michael rubbed his dry eyes. “I can’t believe it!”

  Tony blinked in astonishment. “For real?”

  “Yeah. I think so. I think that’s what he said but now I’m not sure. It’s funny how people can talk to you and you don’t know what they’re saying because all you’re doing is thinking about what you’re thinking about. It was hard to think about. I don’t know what he just said to me now. I’m in shock! I wish I could have recorded that phone call so I could play it back. I wish he’d written me a letter so I could just look at it until I see it.”

  Tony sadly shook his head, “I was standing right here and heard you say they were dead.”

  Kirk said, “I’m sorry to hear that. That’s really heavy. Sometimes it takes a while for bad news like that to really sink in.”

  Michael pointed to his heart. “I ain’t a normal person. Almost everybody I ever knew has died from AIDS or overdoses or murder. I think I’m living in the middle of a nervous breakdown that I’m pretending that I’m not having. That’s why I’m such an exhibitionist, I bet. I just need something to do while my brain doesn’t work.”

  Kirk asked Tony, “In other words he’s crazy?”

  Tony nodded. “We may never know how far he’s gone.”

  Michael checked his eyes for tears. He wiped his fingertips on his arms. “I’m an orphan! Now everybody will think I’m weird. So why aren’t I sad? I should be feeling something. All I feel is confused. When I think about them I just think about how I don’t like them but I don’t think that’s what I’m supposed to be thinking right now. But they’re dead from a horrible accident. I weep for anybody on the news in a horrible accident. And… they were Mom and Dad! I hated them but they were Mom and Dad! I don’t know how to feel. I should feel free. I can be me now. Maybe I won’t always feel guilty now that I’m not like they want me to be. But why do I feel so terrible? Now I just feel more guilty. Why do I feel guilty?”

  Tony reminded him, “Because you didn’t like them and it sort of became a habit to think bad of them. You carped about them all the time. You always sang that John Lennon song.” He sang, “Mama…you had me…but I never had yo-o-o-u…”

  “I was being Barbra Streisand. She did it better. She sounded like a police siren. And I know I never had t
hem ‘cause they never had me-e-e-e, or whatever … but they were my parents. You should know how that is. You lost your mom.”

  Tony looked down in thought. “I was just a little kid. And she was nice… I suppose. They’re always nice when you’re little enough.”

  Michael said, “Mine were nice if you want to be good Baptists with them and not have too much affection around. No hugs. If you want touched get a fucking spanking! Fuckin’ spank the fucker!”

  Tony took a step back. “Are you going to be upset now?”

  Michael took a deep breath. He calmed and nodded his head to agree. “So I trashed them all the time. Sure did. It’s because when I was a kid they just couldn’t look at me like they liked me. You can tell those things. They always had a worried look. Or a disapproving look. Or a look of panic. ‘Oh no, our kid’s a total crazy pansy and what will the neighbor’s think! That makes us look bad!’ But they never looked at me like they liked me. But now it’s so weird. I can’t hate them. That would be weird. It’s all weird. How can your parents just die? That doesn’t seem possible. I just saw them last year and they looked at me like they didn’t like me at all! They were so alive looking when they did that!”

  Tony reminded him, “My mom died when I was little and I still think it’s weird even after all this time. Things like that are weird. It’s just the way it is for everybody. You never get over it. You think about it for the rest of your life.”

  “But that’s you. Of course other people’s parents die. But to have your own die that’s just too weird! It’s like I’m on a different planet now. I’m not on the same world I was before. Everything is different now. But why do I have to go back there just because everybody is dead?”

  Tony shrugged. “You have to go back to help with the funeral and stuff. Just because.”

  “No. My parents went to a church so the church would deal with their dead bodies. Otherwise what’s the point of a church? Indoctrinate, marry, bury. I have no idea why I would go back there. I’m not needed. It would kill me. Make the church do all the work, I say. The church got paid enough along the way they better do it good, too!”

  Tony said, “You have to go and be nice. I’d go with you, it’d be fun to go back and see your farm. Lizzi talked so much about it, she said there was so many cool old outbuildings. And I could even say hi to Dad. But my job wouldn’t let me have any time off. I’m sure. Not with all that time I already took off for that big hangover that almost killed me, thank you.”

  Michael put his face in his hands. “I can’t leave the big city now. I can’t leave the tall buildings of the big city. I love to go to the top and pretend I’m Faye Dunaway in The Towering Inferno and I just walk around knowing I look fabulous in some weird ‘70s gown that totally shows off my tits, waiting for the end. Waiting for the flames.” He rubbed his hand over his chest. “And I look around for the firemen so I can make hose jokes. You can only do that in a big city and if you look crazy, nobody cares. They just think, ‘Oh there goes one more queer boy who thinks he’s Faye Dunaway in a disaster movie’. I can’t do that in a small town where the tallest building is a silo. Back there I can only be Dorothy waiting for my tornado to take me away, and nobody likes the black disco version.”

  Tony said, “Then go be Dorothy. Be whoever you need to be.”

  “I can’t go. I’m Snake Girl and she has no legs! She’s stuck on the table!”

  Tony grabbed Michael’s elbow. “Be you.”

  “No. I don’t wanna go back there! I just got out of there. I can’t go back so soon. I’d just escaped. It’s like smashing your face into flypaper—going back home is. It’s dangerous. I can’t believe I’m going back to the Mississippi River again like some kind of Fuckle-berry Finn! Fuck! If I’m going back to hell I might as well take a fucking little raft down the river to get there and save a buck! It isn’t worth spending money to go to that place!”

  Tony said, “Breathe.”

  “I’m not going!”

  “But you have to.”

  “Then I have to pack. Shit. Can I borrow a nice pair of black socks?”

  Tony shook his head.

  “Please? Mine all have holes in the bottom.”

  Tony said, “The last time you wore my socks I got jock itch on my toes.”

  “That’s impossible. I’ve never even had jock itch on my jock. Please let me borrow a pair of socks. The only thing I have without holes is panty hose.”

  “You deliberately put a hole in the crotch.”

  Michael started to weep. “Then… then… then I’ll have to go down to the laundry room and steal a pair out of a drier that’s been left unguarded.” Michael kicked out of his skirt and rummaged through the cardboard box for a pair of underwear. “And while I’m gone just live it up! Go ahead. Just go ahead. Drink all my beer that Tony bought for me! I’m going to… I’m going to… I don’t know what I’m going to do but it’s going to be something.” He slipped on a see-through jockstrap.

  Tony ordered his boyfriend, “Cover your eyes.” He turned to Michael. “Is that all you ever think about? Showing off your dick?”

  “I think about other things all the time. Funerals aren’t fun. I don’t know what to think about at a funeral. I don’t know who to be. I don’t know who I am at a funeral… so I can’t think thoughts. So I’m going out to the bar now to do my stripper thing tonight to take my mind off this farm fantasy nightmare that’s trying to upset me. I’m going to make a few bucks. I need to buy a bus ticket.” Michael looked lost. “Oh my god! What time is it? I better get going!” He slammed some dresser drawers and rummaged through some clothes. He slipped into a pair of black jeans and then pulled on a purple t-shirt that said ANDY WARHOL on it in big block letters. “I wonder who I’m going to be tonight.”

  Kirk said, “Be you.”

  Michael gave him an angry glare. “I have no idea who that is!”

  Tony frowned. “We ain’t coming to watch you dance on a bar just to see.”

  Kirk smiled. “I think I’ve already seen all of you. And then some.”

  “You just saw the outside. That was only half of it—I’m a performer. It’s how you move it!” Michael went to the door and paused. He turned. “And if I’m in Milldam and I get any mail from Yukon Train Modeling Agency, call me! And if New York wants my poems tell them I’ve already improved them and they’re now even better! And I need to add poems about the death of parents you didn’t like. That’s a new one! That will get me an award!”

  Tony closed his eyes. “I’m not calling you long distance. It can wait. And I’ll see you again, anyway, before you go. We’ll talk about it, then. Not now. Go give your impersonation of a bump and grind and try not to cry too much. Nobody will understand and you’ll just scare everybody.”

  Michael wiped his eyes. “And if New York calls tell them I’m also writing a novel.” He let out a sob. “But I can’t figure out how to get it any longer than a short story. How the hell do they do that? The novel will be called Black Candles and Blood. Look for it. It’ll make me very famous. It will be a movie starring David Bowie, I’m sure.”

  Tony put his hand up for pause. “Before you go, I have to ask. Kirk asked me what it meant to be gay. I didn’t know what to tell him. You’re so much older and wiser about that stuff. I thought… I don’t know.”

  “I’m not old or wise… just a worn-out freaked-out drunk slut who doesn’t really get any anymore. I’m already an old hag. There. And now I’m an orphan even more than I was before. There. That’s what it means to be gay.”

  Kirk said, “Seriously. I really haven’t been out of the closet long. I had to admit I was gay when I fell really hard in love with a guy. He was straight. It was awful. It broke my heart and I really embarrassed myself. I’m serious. What does it all mean?”

  Michael rolled his eyes. He threw his hands into the air. Then he flipped his hair like Cher. “Condom up and you’ll live to be a bitter old fart in the poorhouse, starving and full of memories that now only
feel cruel. You know what Auntie Mame says… party hard! Or something. Okay, enough about me. I’ve really got to go now so I can have some stripper fun—money down my pants.”

  Tony blew a haphazard kiss. “Bye.”

  Michael slammed the door. He traipsed down the stairs. He felt jealous; he bet Kirk’s parents liked him well enough for who he was. “Shit! I don’t deserve anything so nice. I’m a rotten brat. I’m just a stupid old broken down hotdog stand and my parents never liked me at all because they hate all that! Bitch! Bitch! Bitch! Snake Girl you’re a stupid total worthless pity-bath bitch!”

  “Excuse me!” A woman walking up the stairs looked at him funny and he realized he was talking to himself too loud again.

  * * * * *

  Two days later Michael stepped off the Greyhound bus. He walked through the Milldam bus station and out the front where Joanie was waiting there to pick him up. She greeted him with a giant grin that lasted only a few seconds. Then she grimaced. “Michael! What happened to you! Are you okay?”

  “What.”

  “Your pants look like they… I don’t know. When did you get those… they look a hundred years old!”

  “What? Do I smell?” He bent down and sniffed loudly at his legs. “No. And I don’t think they made jeans a hundred years ago.”

  “They’re just so… disintegrated.”

  “Nude knees are all the fashion.” He poked here and there at his jeans. “It’s called threadbare and ripped. It’s fashion. See I’ve even got some safety pins on the side… for safety!”

  “Whatever you say. It looks a little more than ripped to me. It looks like we’re about to see more than just your knees.”

  “They’re stretched out in all the right places.”

  Joanie said, “If they stretch anymore you’ll fall out.”

  He looked around at the downtown street and the sight of so many closed-up shops made him frown. “Let’s get out of here. This town makes me nervous. And we’re going to get sucked up by Bozo, soon. The Bozo layer.”

  “Who? What? Sucked?”

  Michael pointed straight up. “The Bozo layer up there. The hole is getting bigger.”