Post by lulu on May 26, 2022 22:56:57 GMT -5
Throw Away Your Masc
“One cosmopolitan, five jello shots, and five tequila shots. Are you keeping it closed, or are you starting a tab? Ha, I ask, as if.”
As long as they’ve lived, they’ve always been indecisive. To make a decision is to stand against the winds of fate, so why not let things go as they may? Creating music was less about bringing something into existence out of nowhere, but to capture something in a celebration of song and dance. Each of their songs were an ode to a place in time, a person, or an event.
“I asked for a PBR.”
The drag queen guffaws, as if she’d heard the funniest joke in her life, much to the dismay of the they/them almost a foot beneath them in eight inch stilettos. Right now, listening to their own cover of Man to Man by Dorian Electra over the speaks of the The Scorpio gay bar in Charlotte, North Carolina, all they can do is attempt to forget. While others have managers and coaches, Meow Meow has bartenders across continents who address them on a first name basis-
“Sure, Minj, toooooooooooootes.”
-even if it’s not the name they’d choose at the moment. It’s almost a contradiction how both are almost hidden by the strobes, the neon lights, the disco balls and the confetti scattered everywhere in the gay bar, but tis the season! Despite all the potential oddities in the two story bar, the only thing standing out is the indifference worn on Minj’s face, fitting as well as the government mandated cat-tail, cat ears atop their head, and maid dress. Racial brings the drinks into the VIP section, reserved for performers of the night. Smaller venues weren’t Minj’s usual booking, but anywhere who can make a good Bloody Mary can bend them to their beck and will. They spent many mornings waking up to find themselves surrounded in the drinks, almost like a summoning circle.
“Rachel, it-”
Long, black talons of nails hush the catmaid where they dare blasphemize, getting a queen’s name wrong.
“It’s not Rachel, it’s Racial. Racial Tension. You’re going to take me out of queen mode with this sour-puss, beloved. Is this because of your little wrestling thing?”
Clicking their teeth, Minj takes a deep breath, and slumps over the nearest chair. “I wish it was that small. It’s turning into an artist’ block as well!”
“Hon…. on a scale of 100 to 0 gecs, how many gecs are you at right now?”
“...40.”
A glass breaks. Racial covers her mouth. Dejectedly, Minj’s tail falls lifelessly to the ground, and her well-drawn eyebrow raises.
“...How is that thing moving?”
As she reaches for it, Minj’s haunches raise. ‘DO NOT TUG ON IT PUL-LEASE I’LL DIE.”
Leaving things better left unsaid, unsaid, she washes away the idea, as she washes down another jello shot in between applying her foundation to meet southern drag queen standards, aka, by shotgun.
“40 though. Oh shit. How are you breathing?”
“Don’t crack jokes!”
“I’m sorry hon, but I’m friends with Minj. I don’t know what you’re hiding, but since it’s clear you’re hiding Minj, I assumed that you’d want to hide any traces of life.”
“W-why are you only calling me by my stage name?”
“I’m calling you by the name I know you as, love. When I step onto the stage with fishnets, eight inch stilettos, a face full of mascara, a wig that’d make Lady Di squeal and fake tits that’d make Dolly Parton gasp, I’m the real me. You once understood that, or at least, you still do, but you think it only applies to one facet of life.”
“It’s different! This opportunity is great, but I can’t exactly stand out. The guy runnin’ the place got blue-shelled, there’s not alot of fun to be found by standing out or being in first place. They’ve got legacy champions in prison. They’ve got manrats. Fitting in seems like the best way to tread water sometimes.”
“They said, as a pat on the back to every toxic parent of a gay kid, letting them know that even if their kid is suffering, it’s better to fit in and assimilate than it is to stand out.”
Silence. Minj just came to this nightclub to have a good time, but is feeling so attacked right now.
“Telling you how to live, my feline friend, isn’t really like me. Caution is good, but you’re beating yourself up to make sure no one else can hurt you. I’ve seen who you can be when you let yourself breathe… and I remember the night you came up with the single that helped you break the billboard 100 in the states-”
“It’s the Billboard TOP 100-”
Bringing the eyes emoji to life, Racial’s stare casts misdoubt.
“That stopped being true the second your name was on it. Anywho, bring me my bag, will you?”
Minj’s heels click, clack away, on her way to a purse covered in an absolute obscene amount of sequins, which make the unicorn purse either pink or gold. From within the contraption, Racial withdraws two pill bottles, and after popping off both tops, presents Minj with a significant choice.
“Say I’ve got this blue pill and this red pill. If you take the red pill, you will stumble back into an unsettling, life changing truth of being yourself. If you take the blue pill, you will blissfully fall into the peaceful ignorance of which you’re currently embracin-”
In their compulsive disdain for choices, only one choice presents itself. Two hands greedily dart forward, and after a quick swipe that could only be described as catlike, both pills find their homes in Minj’s pawbs, before they absolutely inhale both, with a tequila shot as a chaser.
“Did I win?”
If she could make an expression with her face, it'd be totally shocked, aghast even.
“...I meant for those to be metaphors, beloved.”
“...Oh.”
A bead of sweat rolls down their forehead.
“What was the red one?”
“Perc.”
With their eyes beginning to dilate, they ask,“The blue one?”
“Viagra.”
Warmth runs up their spine, their fingers twitch, their arms shake, and to the shining lights appearing out of nowhere, they dig their claws into the brightness to snatch one thread of an idea. Purring up a storm, tail thump from side to side, they rub their pawb mitts together with the grin of the cat who caught the mouse. “Mewmew!! Get me a pen! Get me a stage! Mewmew Minj has a masterpiece dying to be brought to life! I'm baaaaaaaaaaaack!”
—-----------------------
Giovanni,
I'm afraid I have to left swipe.
I don’t remember you.
I don’t know what I did to anger a pokemon villain/ gym leader, but this one has gone too far.
Another bored night spent taking a look around town on Grindr typically ends with a bored shrug, because half of this country looks like an asylum. When offered a romp in the hay? I am a simple meow meow. Occasionally, I say yes. I DIDN'T THINK THAT MEANT A MATCH ON THE NEXT CARD. You have infiltrated the last safe space a kit-kat can find, so I’m compelled to break you into Reese's pieces.
S-something about a tag team?
Giovanni, I consider everything in this wrestling experience to be a taste of what this field offers to me! Musicians love diversity, we love to experience everything! Standing next to someone like Emmanuelle would be like enjoying fine, grade A Waygu! MYOJIN invokes the taste of a nice Boba tea!
Meow meow is unsure if we tag teamed together, because I do not remember eating ugly food.
Besides, cat vs. crow isn’t a very creative rivalry! I assume this is your gimmick, because of the corners of your eyes. I am honored - flattered even to be invited out to dance! The age-old story of the dorky boy next door who comes to high school reunion with the twink of his dreams to show everyone how much he changed is a real heart tugger, but maybe stick to the normal route for making that happen? Or did the make-a-wish foundation sell an NFT and get cancelled?
Jokes aside, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t understand why he’d pick me. Idols are often put in trios, simply to give the real talent an even brighter shine, by putting the diamond next to granite to make the shine seem brighter. Giovanni wishes to look strong. He blames me for making him look bad, and maybe this is the closest you can come to putting an apostrophe in the record book. Unlike him, I don’t like to hide or correct my mistakes, I wear them on my sleeve. Since debuting, I’ve learned so much thanks to booking, general managers, and talent staff who all saw something even when it really required a squint to see - but I cannot be who I cannot be, and must be who I am. For I am a biological woman, and I must give birth to artistry that cannot be denied on the dance floor, in the recording studio, or in a ring.
Giovanni, they say a man is made of courage, and a woman is made of love. Do you know what that means for homosexuals?
It means, I AM UNSTOPPABLE.
With Pride month coming around the corner, you approached the smallest, cutest, uwu lion in the Pride, with the biggest, toughest bite. Wanna know why?
Because I wont let go. I could’ve left this place at anypoint to dive into a bed of gold dabloons like Scrooge McDuck at any given time, and I’m still here. Know why? Because I’ve been pushed far beyond being here for hopes and dreams - this goes further than a simple love for the sport - it took some time, but I’m finally running on spite! There is nothing good remaining. I am not only hoping and praying for the downfall of my enemies, I am praying their downfall occurs while I am both in eyeline and earshot. All of my best works were done when my back was against the wall, and do you know what happens when you corny a meow meow, Giovanni?
No?
That doesn’t surprise me?
Not a lot of people live to say what happens after all!
Don’t let me be the one to judge anyone’s masculinity, because say it ain’t soy, I’m not a boy. But everything about Gio screams ‘validate me mommy!’ From the way his facial structure resembles that of an amoeba because he has to prove how tough he is by blocking with his face, to stylizing his outfits as though it occurred in a house where the electric bill wasn’t paid, because he’d absolutely hate to look like he cares what others think. Maybe he’s especially bad now? Maybe his Mercury is in Gatorade?
Who knows? But I would never lose in an artistry match against a man who’s work all look like it belongs on a menu coming with a corresponding pack of crayons!
But you have the energy of someone who has been a disappointment to your parents your entire life, and at Gladiator games, Meow meow isn’t going to let themselves stop you. I’ve spent so long trying to fit in, but now, I’m taking my mask off. I won’t be talking Gladiator Games when I say GG, and I’m not talking pronouns when I say they slash them. .