Years ago, darlings, there we were, a small resistance group, huddling in the back of the city’s wildest gay club, brainstorming ways to disrupt the fascist government that had taken over two years before. Among them all was me, the most flamboyant male performer the club had ever had the pleasure to host.
I got volunteered - everyone else thought they were being followed.
I protested: I use bandaids on hangnails; can’t stand being dirty, much less grungy, and animals poop on the ground!
No matter - they sent me.
It was horrible but I did my part.
I need a drink.
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