Mimsy and Thea bravely participated in one of the first Lesbian Pride Parades, hoping to raise awareness. Sadly, they chose to take their stand in New York City, and absolutely no one paid any attention to them whatsoever. Still, let’s eavesdrop on the conversation…

Mimsy, left: “Are we doing this right? Something feels a bit off.”

Thea, right: “Don’t look at me. I wanted to go to the Met for the new Sappho exhibition. But no, instead of reading delightful poetry fragments and rehashing the experience over herbal tea at Gertrude’s, you thought we should become activists.”

Mimsy: “Don’t be so fussy. I felt compelled to spread the word, just like Sappho, thank you very much. There’s really no reason to belittle me in every situation. You’re acting like we’re married, and we won’t be able to do that for another hundred years.”

Thea: “And what word are we spreading? Shouldn’t we be carrying signs? And chanting. I think we’re supposed to be chanting, preferably with rhyming involved. And we should probably be over in the street instead of on the sidewalk. I would imagine that blocking traffic is more effective than taking a stroll. After all, many people don’t pay attention to the plight of others until you do something drastic. By the way, why is this sidewalk so big? Do planes land here?”

Mimsy, sighing: “Perhaps I could have planned this a bit better. I just get frustrated when I see so much inequality and subjugation and suffering in the world. I want to make a difference, to stand for something, I just don’t know how to go about it.”

Thea, smiling: “But you are doing something, despite my jaded bitchery. Every movement starts small, and grows slowly, one tiny step at a time. It’s a hard road, because so many people are slow to change. If it was easy to do the right thing, we would already have world peace. Despite the conservative blowhards, progress always, eventually happens. It just takes enough people being brave and determined. Just like you. And for the record, if we’re both still kicking in a hundred years, I’d happily marry you.”

Mimsy: “That is so sweet. It makes my heart swell and-”

Thea: “Wait, there’s a problem here.”

Mimsy: “Well, that was a short courtship.”

Thea: “No, we’re still good. But look at the words somebody scribbled at the bottom of this image.”

Mimsy: “You mean where it says ‘New York fashions 1912’, those words?”

Thea: “Exactly. Apparently we’re appearing in some couture-magazine spread and not a political journal, which completely diffuses and negates our message.”

Mimsy: “Which means the writer of this piece is distorting the truth by using an unrelated photo that has not been properly vetted in order to fabricate a story that never happened.”

Thea: “Which means that he either works for Fox News or the Trump Administration.”

Mimsy and Thea defiantly turn to the writer for an explanation.

Brian pauses in his typing, gulps, and then chooses the path of defiance as well: “Firstly, have you not read the other five hundred Past Imperfects? Secondly, it’s very late in the early morning and I really need to get a post out so I can get some degree of redemption for spending far too much time on social media.”

Mimsy: “Oh, I completely get that, girl. Been there.”

Thea: “I’m always there. Those late-night blog scrambles can whack a chunk out of your professionalism and artistic integrity.”

Thea’s Purse: “Is this the right time to mention that I really don’t go with your outfit?”

Brian’s Agent: “Please don’t save this post. We really don’t need the CIA using your microwave to scan your hard drive.”

Previously published in “Crusty Pie” and “Bonnywood Manor”. Slight changes made for this post.