They weren’t sure where they were, how they got there, or who decided to stop at the bordello for a costume change. But they were happy, and that’s all that really mattered. Until some fool decided to question things and bring everybody down.
Smyrna, left, fool: “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. We’re really high up. See that dot over there? The one you really can’t see even though everyone reading this will try to find it? That’s the Queen Mary.”
Daffodil, center: “Are you talking about the boat or the drag queen? Because that would really change the perspective a bit.”
Rhubarbara, right: “Daffy, when did you figure out how to use the word ‘perspective’? We all know you dropped out of school when your daddy did that thing with the cow.”
Smyrna: “Girls, listen to me. We really could fall at any minute. I know you don’t care right now, because I’d be the first to go, but I’m warning you that if I’m going down I’m taking everybody with me.”
Daffodil: “Oh, shove it, Smyrna. We’re fine. You’re just mad because you didn’t get that part as a drum majorette in the new Mack Sennett movie. So take off the stupid hat and let the dream go. And who the hell are you yelling at, Rhubie?”
Rhubarbara: “I’m talking to that man over there. The one taking our picture.”
Smyrna: “Why is he taking our picture? I bet he’s a serial killer. I read about this in a magazine, Bad Things Happen When You Don’t Tithe Ten Percent. He’s going to give us candy and then we’ll never be seen again.”
Daffodil: “What is with you seeing death everywhere? If I can survive The Cow Incident and still be relatively stable, there’s no reason for you to be so jacked in the head. Still, maybe we shouldn’t be letting this guy take pictures of us in trampy slutwear. My mother doesn’t know I’m trying to break into show biz. She thinks I’m enrolled at Saint Caffeinetta’s School for Directionless Young Ladies. Who is he?”
Rhubarbara: “He says his name is Ansel something. Adams, maybe? I can’t really hear because of the pounding surf that’s going to whisk Smryna’s body out to the Queen Mary.”
Smyrna: “Ansel Adams! I read about him in another magazine, Famous Photographers Who Have Done Something with Their Lives but You Haven’t Because You Didn’t Tithe Ten Percent. He takes pictures of mountains, and that means we are on a mountain. I’m never going to be in a Mack Sennett picture! I wasted all those years training as an actress and putting on plays in Daffy’s Daddy’s barn. At least until the FBI shut it down after The Incident.”
Daffodil: “Oh, please. You did one play and it was wretched. Even the chickens left in protest and we had to hire a Coop Counselor until they could lay eggs again. Wait, that Ansel man is hollering something else. He’s starting to give me the creeps, what with him insisting on using black-and-white film. Maybe we really should get out of here. What’s he saying?”
Rhubarbara: “He says he’ll give us a hundred bucks each if we let him keep taking pictures. And possibly show a little more leg.”
Smyrna: “A hundred bucks? That will more than cover the money I loaned the other Queen Mary so she could get some decent cosmetics. I’m on it.”
Daffodil: “And that’s enough to pay Daddy’s bail. You girls don’t know what it’s like to live on a farm where the cows haven’t been milked. What are you hollering back at him, Rhubie?”
Rhubarbara: “I’m negotiating, Daffy. I’m telling him to make it a hundred and fifty a piece and we’ll even shove Majorette Smyrna off the rock so he can get some dramatic photos of her being royally presented to the Queen.”
Smyna: “Wait, what? I can’t really hear over here. Did I miss something?”
Daffodil: “Nope.”
Rhubarbara: “He said you’re really pretty and you should move closer to the edge.”
Click.
Previously published in “Crusty Pie” and “Bonnywood Manor”. Insignificant changes made for this post. For those who might be wondering, my drag name is not Queen Mary, despite any thoughts my partner might have on the subject. Cheers.
Categories: Past Imperfect
Bonnywood Manor 
If it weren’t for names like Saint Caffeinetta, I might think that you are jaundiced with society. 🌯
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How dare you accuse me of not being jaundiced with society… 😉
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Calma! Calma! 😎
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Calma! Calma! 😎
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What I love are those mid-shin socks. Kind of gives a fish-or-cut-bait, I-don’t- know, questionable savoir-faire to the whole enterprise. After all, who needs knee socks at the beach? And those anklets? Just sand magnets. Nope, mid-shin is the ticket – definitely for the girl who is unsure about how to accessorise baby-doll beach nighties with hats and shoes.
Great post. 🙂
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I think it’s fair to say that the planning committee for this particular Jaunt to Nowhere was exceedingly lackluster when it came to the actual planning. But it’s also fair to say that if the average person was to stumble across this tableau, they would certainly remember it, and isn’t that the whole point of the self-promotion craze that is sweeping the planet?
Wait, I think I finally understand American politics… 😉
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Since it’s “Rhubarbara” who appears to be swilling “Smirnoff” vodka, I’m shocked that she’s so harsh to their icon model. And ten percent? Oh puleeze. Doesn’t “God” (who you just KNEW would feature in my response) have more pressing things to worry about, than if some heathen isn’t paying their full share? It’s only wise to pay because it’s sort of like insurance for the after life. 😛 God is too busy worrying about that ugly orange horror who would have women wearing those costumes even today. And those gawd awful shoes. Just the thought of moist leatherette gives me the creeps. Symrna is showing an unseemly amount of thigh too..so maybe she DID overhear and is plotting to throw Daffy and Ruby under the Queen Mary that floats.
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And since you knew that I knew you would invite God to this clam bake (“Hey, Big Guy! Thanks for stopping by!”), I’ll just say that I’m sure He doesn’t give a hoot about the tithing. My mention of such was a subtle jab that some of the un-ascended folks down here put a little too much emphasis on the concept and, more importantly, try to make others feel less worthy for not being able to hit the quota.
As for the Orange Horror, I think all decent folk realize his Final Destination ticket will lead him to a place where he will finally realize that Global Warming is a real thing…
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I’m sure God doesn’t care about tithing either, because He’s God, and (presumably) He doesn’t need nor use money. Else a lot of deluded individuals would be able to ‘take it with them’ when they die, right? I personally think that tithing is good for the individual soul. And I’m a member of one of the biggest concerns in making that idea a ‘rule’. It’s all about the faith of the thing…if one doesn’t believe in it, it’s not going to do that individual a whit of good, whatever they might think about their buying a golden ticket to the afterlife. And most churches stand in awe of the (formerly known as): Mormons. Because we usually ALL pay our tithing because of why I said above. It’s a faith thing. But hey! YOUR clambake, your rules. Those folks in your vicinity who are uppity about paying? Well THAT’s a ‘sin’ right there…one is not supposed to judge other folks, and are supposed to mind their own pie (business). Which I guess I didn’t do too well, now did I? 😉 😛 Now I’m off to see what your “Yet Another Blog Post” will contain in the way of visual delights! 🙂
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Made me giggle.
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[Sound of me checking an item of my To-Do List.] “Yay!”
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Love the hat that looks like mouse ears! 🥴
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We should run out and get matching hats! Or maybe not…
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Hey! I’m up! 👒🧢🎩😘
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Okay, but then what IS your drag name? Cause I had money on Queen Mary, though the odds were in favor of Minnie Stroney.
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First, Minnie Stroney is quite clever, props for that.
Second, thank you for asking, as most folks don’t, which is considered a rude oversight at certain Friends of Dorothy cocktail parties: My drag name, although I’ve never done drag (not saying it’s a bad thing; I just wouldn’t be any good at it) was bestowed upon me during my sophomore year in college, with the brief coronation taking place in a gay bar known as Zipper’s: Val Entino
It was supposed to be a joke.
It stuck.
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Very nice, old chap. RE-posted on twitter @trefology
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Mercy buckets.
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