Shandy eyed both Imelda and Clare. Following an uncomfortable silence she spoke.
"Well, well, well Imelda, finally you have show your true colours and they are not the usual gawdy disastrous shades you are fond of, but more dark and murky, much like your character"
"Aw darrrrling" purred Imelda. "You no happy. Too baddd. Me no work for you no more. Clare, she like I, she say I do better than work at Sassy Palm, it dump".
"Why you Filipino PUTA" screamed Shandy
"Hey you know call me prostitoot. Anyway you the puta" Imelda flashed her heavily Maybellined eyes in Dirk's direction. "Me know what you do wit him, you scwoo him many time, I know dis ting"
"Imelda your full of crap honey, you have no idea what your sayin" snapped Shandy.
"Yes" interupted Dirk "Thats just more of your lies and stories"
"That so. What your boss tink darrling if he find out you throw leg over murder suspec, hmmmm, you in trouble, la"
Clare looked on throroughly savouring the momement. "Well" she said "Im sure you could to and fro all night, but its tawdry and boring and I have a gorgeous new club to open and that will soon be heaving with patrons, Sassy Palms patrons, oh and Shandy dear as you would say in your commonal ghetto speak - Ize gonna whoop yo ass".
The drag queens broke into maniacal laughter. Iva and Carmene looked on furious.
"So its time for you and your unattractive chaperones to leave"
"Not so fast" said Shandy smugly "I have something to show you Imelda".
"What it"
Shandy flipped open open her luscious Salvatore Ferragano Fondente Satchel, plucking out the blood read bead. "Look familiar darrrrrling" she said mocking Imelda "I believe its off your shoe and it was found on my bathroom floor, the very floor that Black Magic died upon"
Everyone turned - Imelda now the focus of everyone's attention, in particular the gap on her heel that was missing a bead.
"Why you murdering little mole" said Iva "It was you YOU, you killed her".
Imelda momentarily flustered "No, no, it not true, I kill no one"
Clare stepped forward looking Shandy in the eye. "And tell me angel were you alone when you found this riveting discovery"
"Well yes, why"
"Because my dear, you could well have planted it yourself. Ask your "boyfriend" as evidence its worthless"
Shandy looked to Dirk for support.
"Unfortunately its hear say, it would not stand up in a court of law" replied Dirk
Shandy shot him a disappointed look.
"Its as I thought. A futile excercise" replied Clare ever so smugly
"FUCK YOU" screamed Shandy
"Such vulgarity" responded Clare "You may pass yourself as a sophisticated glamourpuss, but sweetie your nothing but a picaninny from Boiling Springs and its time you people remembered where you stand in the pecking order"
"Clare I cannot believe you said that. Your nothing but a biggot"
"Well as scintilating a conversation as this is, its time for you to leave. Hysteria darling please show the riff raff to the door, the rear door" And with that Clare twirled and made a dramatic exit with Will scuffing behind her.
They could tell that Hysteria was not to be trifled with, so they followed the amazon to the door. Momements later in the alley out back, Iva piped up.
"Im so confused. Why is she doing this"
"Revenge, she holds a grudge our Clare" replied Shandy
"Doll do you think she has anything to do with the murder and the attempt on you" asked Carmene
"Not sure, all I know is that we need more evidence, especially against Imelda"
"But how do we do that" asked Iva
"Shandy your cooking up something" said Dirk looking slightly agitated.
Shandy rolled her luscious dior rimmed eyes "As if"
Dirk smirked "Im sorry about the Imelda thing Shandy, but that evidence is worthless. We all know she is guilty, but we need more"
"I could not be angry at you" she replied brushing his had discreetly.
"I need to go" said Dirk "I will call you later". That said he left.
Shandy wasted no time "Listen girls. You and I have a date tonight, we are breaking into Clare's joint to look for evidence. I have a gut feeling we will find something".
Iva stared blankly not quite believing whats she was hearing.
"Im serious. Iva, I know you can pick locks and I reckon I can deactivate the alarm. But I do not want Dirk finding out, so shut your traps".
"But"
"Zip it, we are so doing this"
Later that evening, outside Clare's home, but parked discreetly down the street, Shandy, Iva and Carmene sat waiting. Shandy was still trying to understand Iva's choice of ensemble, a lycra all in one leotard with hood.
"Fuck Iva who do you'all think you are - Cat Woman"
"Get stuffed. Its perfect attire for a stealth mission"
"Shhhhhhh" said Carmene slapping Iva's arm. "Look"
Clare's gates slid open and she emerged driving a luxurious vermillion Audi.
"That beeyotch has way too much money" grumbled Carmene peeking over the dashboard.
Shandy sprung into action whisking a retractable ladder from the boot. Leaning it against the high wall surrounding the house, she wasted no time in scurrying over, the plants breaking her fall. Iva and Carmene followed. The house was shrouded in darkness.
Now at the door, Shandy looked to Iva "Do you thing my sweet sistah".
Plucking a small tool from within her lycra suit she started tweeking the lock. After a few turns the door clicked. "Fuck Im good" gloated Iva. "I still have it".
Shandy paused momentarily. Taking a deep breath she turned the handle. The door was open. Instantly they heard the beeping of the alarm.
"Oh my god, oh my god" gasped Carmene nervously. "Now what".
Shandy spied the control panel - she quickly punched in 131-16-0237 followed by the OFF key. The beeping stopped.
"Geezus" said Shandy
Iva shot her a questioning look "Excuse me, but how the hell did you know the number"
"I didn't. I took a gamble. I just thought it could be the number on the key and it was"
"What is that key for, we still have no idea" replied Carmene
"Well girls there is no time to ponder on that, we have a house to search"
Running off in seperate directions the girls each started looking for something, anything that would help them incriminate Imelda or anyone for that matter. They could find nothing. Finally they arrived at the double doors to Clare's boudoir. Pushing them open they entered. The room was huge with no furniture except a large circular bed. Everything was white - the walls, the carpet and the furniture. The room flowed onto the bathroom - also white with a huge in ground tub overlooking a tranquil garden. This room opened onto the walk in wardrobe, which in fact was a room. On entering they all gasped, the room was lined with closets containing exquisite peices of clothing. Shandy noticed that much of it was haute couture. They could open all doors except one at the end of the room which was locked. Beside the door was a keypad. Once again, Shandy punched in the same number and the door slid open. At first they thought nothing of the contents, just more clothes.
"Honey, this must be her expensive shit" announced Iva
"It doesn't look that special to me" said Carmene
Wait! said Shandy, fingering the garments She gasped and pulled back.
"What is it darling, whats wrong" said Carmene, pulling out a peice of clothing. Its just a white cape with a matching hat thingie".
"No, no its not" said Shandy "Look"
"Whats this all about" said Iva.
The hat was in fact a pointy hood with 2 holes for eyes and across the frount of the cape were the letters KKK.
Carmene dropped it to the floor "Is Clare what I think she is"
"What" snapped Iva impatiently
"Clare is a member of the Ku Klux Klan"
With that they could hear the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Speading the curtains Iva screamed "Fuck, fuck, its Clare, she's back".
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Where there's a Will there's a Way!!
By Marcia Moorecock (special guest appearance).
Black Magic stood at the end of Shandy’s “Ceccotti” Mamma Li Turchi four poster bed.
“Clare and Will. Clare and Will” repeated Back Magic.
“They are comin for ya sista. They have somethin planned for you, somethin special. And it’s not wrapped in plastic. Plastic. Plastic. Plastic….
Shandy shuddered. Black Magic sounded like a stuck record but then continued.
“Course, you deserve everythin comin to ya sista. I am now nothin because of you. It’s all your fault”.
Black Magic was standing at the end of Shandy’s bed and apart from blurting out incoherent babble; she was holding a rather large carving knife that was dripping with blood. Black Magic now moved closer to Shandy and held the knife high above her head, the blood now dripping onto Shandy’s Arctic Blue “Frette” bed sheet. Black Magic let out a hysterical high-pitched laugh and plunged the blade towards Shandy’s chest.
Shandy awoke with a start.
She looked around the room anxiously and eyed her Silver Jacob Jensen Radio Alarm clock that had mysteriously sprung to life. The time was 2.37am and the last strains of Gloria Gaynors “I Will Survive” danced across her early morning haze. Shandy nervously hummed a few bars (as any self respecting Drag Queen would) and got out of bed.
“I should never have watched that “Twin Peaks” and “The Shinning” late night double on channel 10 last night,” thought Shandy.
She stood in the doorway to her lounge, trying to compose herself. She stared out the window watching the rain pound against the glass. Naked, except for her sheer Ivory “La Perla” negligee, beads of sweat trickled and danced their way down her beautiful dark supple skin.
Even her pussy was wet and dripping……………….
So she wandered over to the balcony glass door and let her cat, Cleopatra, in. “Cleo” was a recent gift from Iva, and was a gorgeous sorrel (chocolate brown on orange) Bengal kitten with emerald green eyes that Shandy swore were ringed with Guerlain kohl eyeliner number 25.
Shandy grabbed one of her eggshell coloured Missoni towels to dry off Cleo and then slumped into her Tahitian Pearl coloured Eames repro arm chair. Cleo purred at the attention.
She sat in her darkened lounge staring at the storm outside. She could hear the sound of thunder bellowing in the distance and lightening would flicker across the sky. She could still hear her clock radio playing in her bedroom. It was Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” ….”I’m just a poor boy, nobody loves me”….
Her mind wandered to her past as indeed she used to be a poor boy. But surely somebody loves her?
But her mind wandered back to the strange dream with Black Magic. Why had she come to her in a dream? Why now? Was it because everyone had forgotten about her?
Suddenly, a crack of lightening broke her train of thought. The flash of light also caused her to catch a “glint” from something in her bathroom. Her eyes strained to see what it was. Another flash and it “glinted” again. She put Cleo on the floor and moved to the bathroom. There it was, embedded in the grouting at the bottom of the bathtub. A blood red diamante.
She didn’t own anything that this could belong to. Black Magic wasn’t wearing anything that this would have come from Shandy thought. And maybe she hadn’t seen it before because of the faded blood still marking her sea foam green Milano tiles!! “Oh my pretty pretty tiles,” moaned Shandy.
She put the blood red diamante into a safe place and went back to bed, but she found that she was tossing and turning. If only she was tossing Dirk she thought. And with that she drifted back to sleep, but not before a warm drizzle of excitement leaked out of her and gently glided down the inside of her leg.
Later that morning, Shandy called Dirk to update him on her dream, what she had found and that she was on her way to visit Clare.
“I’ll meet you there” said Dirk.
“No, there’s not enough time. I need to speak to her immediately and I’ll call you when I get back”.
“OK. Be careful darling. I’ll see you soon and I’ll make sure I have something hot for you that will make your mouth water” Dirk whispered huskily.
“My lips are parting as we speak. See you soon”. And Shandy was gone.
Meanwhile, over at Elwood By The Bay……………
Clare was going about her usual business…. swathed in a sheer filmy shell pink flowy top and figure hugging silver/grey Capri pants. Her stick like frame was fussing
over her antique collection of rare tea pots (a hobby she had taken to as a small child after a visit to Lipton’s Tea Emporium). Her prized possession was a “Paul Storr” sterling silver George IV teapot, which she was ensuring, was shinning brighter than Will Van Pill’s newly enamelled teeth.
Clare was interrupted from her task by the chiming of her Pan Pipes doorbell. As she made her way to the door, the sound of Wings “Let Em In” wafted through the mansion.
She opened the door and there stood Shandy.
“Well this really is an imposition,” grumbled Clare.
Shandy looked Clare up and down like a searchlight. “Darling, if I’d known you just got out of bed I would have called first” smirked Shandy.
Naturally, Clare looked impeccable but couldn’t help but let out a slight hissing sound at Shandy’s pointed remark. “So where is the rest of your coven?” enquired Clare.
“Casting beauty spells no doubt,” said Shandy. She continued. “I have heard rumours of you and your lover, Will Van Pill. Tell me this isn’t true. Tell me that your not fucking that withered old has been”.
Clare gasped and held a hand to her chest. “Oh how horrid!! My relationship with Will is not up for discussion and how dare you speak your wretched despicable gossip on my doorstep”.
There was silence.
Finally, Shandy spoke. “Fine. We could stand here chatting politely all day. Listen Clare, there’s a lot going on. I have a lot of new information that I need answers on and you are the only person that can help me”.
Clare’s eyes narrowed and she looked at Shandy with an air of superiority. “Indeed I can help you. Wait here one moment”. And with that Clare disappeared from view and left Shandy waiting on the doorstep.
Clare returned momentarily and placed a card into Shandy’s hand.
“What the hell is this?” asked Shandy.
“You will meet me at this address at 4pm this afternoon. You will get all the answers you need”. And with that, Clare closed the door in Shandy’s surprised face.
Shandy read the card.
DDQ
(The Stairway to Heaven)
131 16th Street
Collingwood. Vic. 3212.
Ph: 03 90237131
At 4pm that very same day, Shandy and (her coven) Iva, Carmene and Dirk stood outside of DDQ. She especially needed her security blankets, Iva and Carmene.
While the façade of the building was still under construction and cluttered with ladders and tradesman who were busily going about their tasks, Shandy couldn’t help but be impressed by the huge Western Red Cedar doors.
As if on cue, the doors opened and out walked Clare.
“Oh Shandy my dear, right on time I see. And you brought your little friends along. How quaint” said Clare with a wince that made her look like she had just tasted something tart.
Clare ushered her guests inside. It was darkly lit as they went from the impressive main doors to another set of doors. Clare’s assistant, Brock Hilton, greeted them. He was pure sex. Dark blonde, ruggedly handsome, hair parading out the top of his pec hugging shirt. And although Shandy adored Dirk, her mind wandered momentarily as she daydreamed of enveloping Brock’s engorged penis between her moist quivering lips and slowly extracting his milky love juice and….
“This way please,” offered Brock, breaking Shandy’s gorgeous daydream.
All four visitors gasped in unison. It was a vision. A palatial art deco nightclub adorned with exquisite features and a myriad of colours. “Bellacor” Mayan lamps sat beautifully on each table and matching wall sconces were dotted around the room. There was a massive stage that looked like it had state of the art lighting with a lush red velvet curtain pulled neatly to each side. Not only did the size of the stage make Shandy and the girls jaws drop, a glass topped catwalk snaked it’s way at least 30 feet forward of the stage!!
“What is all this, why did you invite me to this place” demanded Shandy from Clare.
“I can answer that” came a voice from the stage.
Will Van Pill (The Pillster to his friends) appeared from behind the red velvet curtain and made his way along the glass catwalk. His Birkenstocks clacked noisily as he walked. He was an odd little man, with a ruddy face and thinning dirty blonde hair. He had a slight stoop and skin that had seen far too much sun. He wore a pale lavender smock over what Shandy could only describe as upmarket overalls. He had so much heavy gold jewellery on it made Shandy think that he and Imelda would be a good match!!
“Shandy, ask him about the key” whispered Iva.
“Not now Iva, lets find out what’s going on here first,” said Shandy.
“This is my new club,” trumpeted Will. “It’s full name is DESTINATION: DRAG QUEEN, also know as DDQ”. This is my latest venture with my business partner (giving a nod towards Clare).
Shandy burst out laughing. Iva and Carmene joined in nervously.
“Well girlfriend, not only are you way past your prime as a performer but your boyfriend there is delusional” snickered Shandy as she watched Clare’s response.
“Oh but my dear, sad, pathetic Shandy….
“Save your breath Clare, your gonna need it later to blow your lover” retorted Shandy. “And anyways, I know every drag in town. No-one’s gonna work for a rattling bag of bones like you!”
“Oh you atrocious dark skinned despot. That’s where you are wrong. I’ve flown in the best from all over the globe. Meet my girls” Said Clare.
Out walked the stunning Greek drag known as Donna Kebab. Next was the Irish beauty, Holly Head. A Local girl, Chelsea Heights (discovered by Clare in the David Jones food hall while extolling the virtues of fine teas). There was Jasmine Rice, Amber Light and Polly Teknik. Two older drag queens appeared, Bea Hive and Wanda Ovah.
But it was the final drag queen that stunned Shandy, Iva, Carmene and Dirk.
She was 6’6” tall and made Divine look like Elle.
“ Meet my Drag Queen Comedienne: HYSTERIA” Clare said triumphantly.
“Jesus” cried Iva who took a reluctant step backwards.
“And just while your jaw is dropping faster than your knickers at a men only nudist camp, Will is not my lover. He is my business partner. A business to crush you and that hovel known as Sassy Palms. Your days, like your hairdo Shandy, are over,” smirked Clare. “Oh, and by the way Shandy, you might want to start looking for some new girls, seems some aren’t as loyal as you may think. But of course, thinking has never been one of your strong points darling”.
And with that said, out walked Imelda.
There stood Imelda. Head to toe in some ghastly red outfit. But it wasn’t the ridiculously over sized loop earrings that had caught Shandy’s eye. It was the blood red diamante encrusted stilettos. The stilettos that sparkled as she walked. The stilettos that were Imelda’s pride and joy. The stiletto’s that were missing a blood red diamante from the toe of the left shoe!!!
Black Magic stood at the end of Shandy’s “Ceccotti” Mamma Li Turchi four poster bed.
“Clare and Will. Clare and Will” repeated Back Magic.
“They are comin for ya sista. They have somethin planned for you, somethin special. And it’s not wrapped in plastic. Plastic. Plastic. Plastic….
Shandy shuddered. Black Magic sounded like a stuck record but then continued.
“Course, you deserve everythin comin to ya sista. I am now nothin because of you. It’s all your fault”.
Black Magic was standing at the end of Shandy’s bed and apart from blurting out incoherent babble; she was holding a rather large carving knife that was dripping with blood. Black Magic now moved closer to Shandy and held the knife high above her head, the blood now dripping onto Shandy’s Arctic Blue “Frette” bed sheet. Black Magic let out a hysterical high-pitched laugh and plunged the blade towards Shandy’s chest.
Shandy awoke with a start.
She looked around the room anxiously and eyed her Silver Jacob Jensen Radio Alarm clock that had mysteriously sprung to life. The time was 2.37am and the last strains of Gloria Gaynors “I Will Survive” danced across her early morning haze. Shandy nervously hummed a few bars (as any self respecting Drag Queen would) and got out of bed.
“I should never have watched that “Twin Peaks” and “The Shinning” late night double on channel 10 last night,” thought Shandy.
She stood in the doorway to her lounge, trying to compose herself. She stared out the window watching the rain pound against the glass. Naked, except for her sheer Ivory “La Perla” negligee, beads of sweat trickled and danced their way down her beautiful dark supple skin.
Even her pussy was wet and dripping……………….
So she wandered over to the balcony glass door and let her cat, Cleopatra, in. “Cleo” was a recent gift from Iva, and was a gorgeous sorrel (chocolate brown on orange) Bengal kitten with emerald green eyes that Shandy swore were ringed with Guerlain kohl eyeliner number 25.
Shandy grabbed one of her eggshell coloured Missoni towels to dry off Cleo and then slumped into her Tahitian Pearl coloured Eames repro arm chair. Cleo purred at the attention.
She sat in her darkened lounge staring at the storm outside. She could hear the sound of thunder bellowing in the distance and lightening would flicker across the sky. She could still hear her clock radio playing in her bedroom. It was Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” ….”I’m just a poor boy, nobody loves me”….
Her mind wandered to her past as indeed she used to be a poor boy. But surely somebody loves her?
But her mind wandered back to the strange dream with Black Magic. Why had she come to her in a dream? Why now? Was it because everyone had forgotten about her?
Suddenly, a crack of lightening broke her train of thought. The flash of light also caused her to catch a “glint” from something in her bathroom. Her eyes strained to see what it was. Another flash and it “glinted” again. She put Cleo on the floor and moved to the bathroom. There it was, embedded in the grouting at the bottom of the bathtub. A blood red diamante.
She didn’t own anything that this could belong to. Black Magic wasn’t wearing anything that this would have come from Shandy thought. And maybe she hadn’t seen it before because of the faded blood still marking her sea foam green Milano tiles!! “Oh my pretty pretty tiles,” moaned Shandy.
She put the blood red diamante into a safe place and went back to bed, but she found that she was tossing and turning. If only she was tossing Dirk she thought. And with that she drifted back to sleep, but not before a warm drizzle of excitement leaked out of her and gently glided down the inside of her leg.
Later that morning, Shandy called Dirk to update him on her dream, what she had found and that she was on her way to visit Clare.
“I’ll meet you there” said Dirk.
“No, there’s not enough time. I need to speak to her immediately and I’ll call you when I get back”.
“OK. Be careful darling. I’ll see you soon and I’ll make sure I have something hot for you that will make your mouth water” Dirk whispered huskily.
“My lips are parting as we speak. See you soon”. And Shandy was gone.
Meanwhile, over at Elwood By The Bay……………
Clare was going about her usual business…. swathed in a sheer filmy shell pink flowy top and figure hugging silver/grey Capri pants. Her stick like frame was fussing
over her antique collection of rare tea pots (a hobby she had taken to as a small child after a visit to Lipton’s Tea Emporium). Her prized possession was a “Paul Storr” sterling silver George IV teapot, which she was ensuring, was shinning brighter than Will Van Pill’s newly enamelled teeth.
Clare was interrupted from her task by the chiming of her Pan Pipes doorbell. As she made her way to the door, the sound of Wings “Let Em In” wafted through the mansion.
She opened the door and there stood Shandy.
“Well this really is an imposition,” grumbled Clare.
Shandy looked Clare up and down like a searchlight. “Darling, if I’d known you just got out of bed I would have called first” smirked Shandy.
Naturally, Clare looked impeccable but couldn’t help but let out a slight hissing sound at Shandy’s pointed remark. “So where is the rest of your coven?” enquired Clare.
“Casting beauty spells no doubt,” said Shandy. She continued. “I have heard rumours of you and your lover, Will Van Pill. Tell me this isn’t true. Tell me that your not fucking that withered old has been”.
Clare gasped and held a hand to her chest. “Oh how horrid!! My relationship with Will is not up for discussion and how dare you speak your wretched despicable gossip on my doorstep”.
There was silence.
Finally, Shandy spoke. “Fine. We could stand here chatting politely all day. Listen Clare, there’s a lot going on. I have a lot of new information that I need answers on and you are the only person that can help me”.
Clare’s eyes narrowed and she looked at Shandy with an air of superiority. “Indeed I can help you. Wait here one moment”. And with that Clare disappeared from view and left Shandy waiting on the doorstep.
Clare returned momentarily and placed a card into Shandy’s hand.
“What the hell is this?” asked Shandy.
“You will meet me at this address at 4pm this afternoon. You will get all the answers you need”. And with that, Clare closed the door in Shandy’s surprised face.
Shandy read the card.
DDQ
(The Stairway to Heaven)
131 16th Street
Collingwood. Vic. 3212.
Ph: 03 90237131
At 4pm that very same day, Shandy and (her coven) Iva, Carmene and Dirk stood outside of DDQ. She especially needed her security blankets, Iva and Carmene.
While the façade of the building was still under construction and cluttered with ladders and tradesman who were busily going about their tasks, Shandy couldn’t help but be impressed by the huge Western Red Cedar doors.
As if on cue, the doors opened and out walked Clare.
“Oh Shandy my dear, right on time I see. And you brought your little friends along. How quaint” said Clare with a wince that made her look like she had just tasted something tart.
Clare ushered her guests inside. It was darkly lit as they went from the impressive main doors to another set of doors. Clare’s assistant, Brock Hilton, greeted them. He was pure sex. Dark blonde, ruggedly handsome, hair parading out the top of his pec hugging shirt. And although Shandy adored Dirk, her mind wandered momentarily as she daydreamed of enveloping Brock’s engorged penis between her moist quivering lips and slowly extracting his milky love juice and….
“This way please,” offered Brock, breaking Shandy’s gorgeous daydream.
All four visitors gasped in unison. It was a vision. A palatial art deco nightclub adorned with exquisite features and a myriad of colours. “Bellacor” Mayan lamps sat beautifully on each table and matching wall sconces were dotted around the room. There was a massive stage that looked like it had state of the art lighting with a lush red velvet curtain pulled neatly to each side. Not only did the size of the stage make Shandy and the girls jaws drop, a glass topped catwalk snaked it’s way at least 30 feet forward of the stage!!
“What is all this, why did you invite me to this place” demanded Shandy from Clare.
“I can answer that” came a voice from the stage.
Will Van Pill (The Pillster to his friends) appeared from behind the red velvet curtain and made his way along the glass catwalk. His Birkenstocks clacked noisily as he walked. He was an odd little man, with a ruddy face and thinning dirty blonde hair. He had a slight stoop and skin that had seen far too much sun. He wore a pale lavender smock over what Shandy could only describe as upmarket overalls. He had so much heavy gold jewellery on it made Shandy think that he and Imelda would be a good match!!
“Shandy, ask him about the key” whispered Iva.
“Not now Iva, lets find out what’s going on here first,” said Shandy.
“This is my new club,” trumpeted Will. “It’s full name is DESTINATION: DRAG QUEEN, also know as DDQ”. This is my latest venture with my business partner (giving a nod towards Clare).
Shandy burst out laughing. Iva and Carmene joined in nervously.
“Well girlfriend, not only are you way past your prime as a performer but your boyfriend there is delusional” snickered Shandy as she watched Clare’s response.
“Oh but my dear, sad, pathetic Shandy….
“Save your breath Clare, your gonna need it later to blow your lover” retorted Shandy. “And anyways, I know every drag in town. No-one’s gonna work for a rattling bag of bones like you!”
“Oh you atrocious dark skinned despot. That’s where you are wrong. I’ve flown in the best from all over the globe. Meet my girls” Said Clare.
Out walked the stunning Greek drag known as Donna Kebab. Next was the Irish beauty, Holly Head. A Local girl, Chelsea Heights (discovered by Clare in the David Jones food hall while extolling the virtues of fine teas). There was Jasmine Rice, Amber Light and Polly Teknik. Two older drag queens appeared, Bea Hive and Wanda Ovah.
But it was the final drag queen that stunned Shandy, Iva, Carmene and Dirk.
She was 6’6” tall and made Divine look like Elle.
“ Meet my Drag Queen Comedienne: HYSTERIA” Clare said triumphantly.
“Jesus” cried Iva who took a reluctant step backwards.
“And just while your jaw is dropping faster than your knickers at a men only nudist camp, Will is not my lover. He is my business partner. A business to crush you and that hovel known as Sassy Palms. Your days, like your hairdo Shandy, are over,” smirked Clare. “Oh, and by the way Shandy, you might want to start looking for some new girls, seems some aren’t as loyal as you may think. But of course, thinking has never been one of your strong points darling”.
And with that said, out walked Imelda.
There stood Imelda. Head to toe in some ghastly red outfit. But it wasn’t the ridiculously over sized loop earrings that had caught Shandy’s eye. It was the blood red diamante encrusted stilettos. The stilettos that sparkled as she walked. The stilettos that were Imelda’s pride and joy. The stiletto’s that were missing a blood red diamante from the toe of the left shoe!!!
Friday, April 20, 2007
Mausie's Mammoth Momentos
Dirk brushed off the remnants of Morty Hemple’s cock and held aloft the object for everyone to see.
“It’s a key,” Mausie commented. “But what sort?”
“Could be for anything,” Shandy said. She loved the way Dirk fingered the loop around the end of the key. Attached to it was a label with something written on one side. “What does that label say?” she asked, leaning in closer to catch a deeper whiff of that husky post-coital mansmell that Dirk still exuded from every delicious hunkpore.
“It’s some numbers. 131-16-0237.”
“Whatever do you think they refer to?” Shandy asked.
Dirk looked at Mausie. “Can you tell us?” he asked. “This is, after all, your very impressive cock collection.”
But all Mausie could do was shrug, and smooth out her Liza-With-A-Z hairdo. “Fucked if I know,” she replied. She bent over and scooped up the wooden stand upon which Morty’s impressive cock once stood at admirable attention. "Oh that Morty," she sighed nostalgically, "he did have a big one."
“So,” Dirt reasoned, “this key has been sitting inside Morty’s cock since 1978. That’s nearly 30 years ago. Good god, these numbers could mean anything. And whatever lock it fits probably doesn’t even exist now.”
Shandy snapped her fingers which brought everybody’s attention back to her, which was really why she did it. “I think I know who could tell us! Mausie, who made all these…um…figurines for you?”
Mausie gave a haughty sniff. “You won’t believe me if I told you.”
“Mausie, this could be important.”
“Oh all right,” she conceded, “It’s Will van Pill.”
“The famous sculptor?” Shandy blurted out, for she was not without some culture in her life. It wasn’t all about tits and sequins, you know.
“Who’s that?” Carmene and Iva asked in unison.
Shandy rolled her eyes. “Will van Pill is only Australia’s greatest living sculpture. He’s world famous for his outrageously pornographic sculptures. Ever heard of ‘Fortunate Fornicating Foursome’? What about 'Humping Horny Harry’s Stump'?” But all Shandy got back from Carmene and Iva were blank looks. “He’s been banned by nearly every government in the world. All you need to know is that it don’t get much more famous in the world of sculpturing that Will van Pill.”
“Oh yes, he’s a famous sculptor now," Mausie said, “but when I met him, he was just a poor, struggling Arts student down at Brunswick Tech.” She turned back to her cock-laden mantle and picked out the one that sat at the far end. It was another enviably endowed “figurine” with the name “Pill” stenciled at the bottom. “He presented it to me as a sort of going away gift before he went to London and made it into the big time.” She turned it over and looked at the base. The year of 1962 was written across the bottom in thick black texta. “Gosh,” she sighed, “was that really 1962…?” She turned it right side up again and admired its girth. So were all the girls in the room. “By the late 1960s his fame had become all too much for him so he returned to Melbourne by which time I’d taken a new lover and well, you know, I rather fancied the idea of a memento.”
“So if we go to Will van Pill surely he’ll remember putting a key inside one of your cocks?” Carmene asked hopefully.
“After nearly 30 years?” Mausie asked. “Darls, I wouldn’t hold your breath. Do you know how much pot that man has smoked? To say nothing of how much coke he’s snorted and how much heroin he’s shot? These days I doubt that he would even remember me! If you only knew the number of—”
“Wait a minute,” Dirk cut in. “You put the surname of each of your lovers on the base of each plaster cast?”
Mausie nodded. “There’s been so many that I needed a way to remember who belonged to which co—”
“So if this one on the floor is Morty, who...” he said, pointing to another of the sculptures on the mantle just as large as the one scattered into pieces on Mausie’s Maui Tropicale print semi-shagpile, “...is that?”
They all turned to look at what Dirk was pointing to. It was another plaster o’ phallus also marked HEMPLE. After a moment’s silence, they turned to find a deep crimson blush spreading across Mausie’s face. “Oh…oh, that…?” she stammered. “It’s…ah…hmmmm, yes.” She tapped her index finger against her chin, and then grabbed the cock labeled HEMPLE and looked at the bottom of the base. “Oh my!" she exclaimed, staring at the pornocock in her hand. "This is Morty!" She showed the bottom of the base: it read '1978'.
"It's that's Morty," Shandy cried out and then pointed to the mess on the floor, "who's cock got smashed?"
"Well you see, it’s like this," Mausie replied, "Morty isn’t the only Hemple I’ve…uh… entertained.”
“Morty had a brother?” Iva said.
Shandy backhanded Iva across the shoulder pad. “No, you big nitwit. Morty had a son.”
“Saul?? You bedded both Morty AND Saul???”
“Now, don’t get all your bra straps in a bundle. Morty knew all about it. In fact it was his suggestion. Saul’s trial wasn’t going well and it looked like he was about to get put away. So Morty was faced with the prospect that his only son was just about to go into jail having never had sex with anyone yet.”
"Really?” Shandy asked, picturing Saul’s lean, taut frame and how the tight tee-shirt he’d worn the other night at Sassy Palms had shown all the essentials off to perfection. He certainly gave Franklyn a run for his money, and that’s saying something. “Saul was a virgin?”
“Before going into prison, he was. But you know what prison can be like, and Morty, bless his fatherly little heart, didn’t want his son’s first sexual experience to be up the poop-shooter with some brute named Bongo. So the day before the verdict was announced, Morty dropped Saul off here and I…well, you know. And before he left, I made him model for me.”
“Didn’t he ask why?”
“Of course he did, and I told him. He seemed quite amused and flattered by the whole thing. As well he should. As you saw, Morty packed a wallop, but Saul had at least a good inch on his dear old Dad. That’s when he said that he would be virtually driving past Will van Pill’s studio and would be happy to drop it off. ”
“So,” Dirk mused, “it was Saul who dropped off the mold at Will’s place?”
“What are you thinking, my darling?” Shandy asked. She tried to act casual as she gripped Dirk's baseball-sized bicep and drunk in his heady beefcake bouquet.
“Saul was looking at jail time, right? What if Saul had something to hide? What if he had something he needed to keep safe while he was in the slammer? What if this key is to something like a safe deposit box? Nobody could get inside it unless they had this key. What better place to hide it than in one of Mausie’s momentos.”
“But this is all just theory,” Shandy said. “We don’t know Saul’s got anything to do with this key. Saul’s just got out of jail, he can’t afford to be caught up in some scandal if he’s not even involved. I still say we go to Will van Pill and ask him. Surely he’d remember hiding a key inside a plaster cock, even if he has swallowed enough drugs to knock out half of Woodstock. So Mausie, tell us, where is Will van Pill’s studio?” But everyone found a hesitant frown on Mausie’s round, sweet face.
Dirk laid a gentle hand on Mausie’s shoulder. “What is it, Mausie? Is there something else we need to know?”
“I wasn’t going to mention this because I didn’t think it was relevant. But I think it might be connected. The last time I saw Will was about a year ago and he told me he’d taken up with a new lover.”
“Did he say who it was?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Who, Mausie?” Shandy and Dirk and Iva and Carmene chorused together. “WHO???”
“It’s that psychic: Clare Voyant.”
Friday, March 23, 2007
A cock and bull story
"Clare, more than you can possibly realise" responded Shandy "But who is this mysterious 3rd man, who is he?"
"Sorry Shandy, can't help you there." Clare Voyant stood up, her stunning sheer Pucci batwinged kaftan in hues of turquoise, cerulean, cuan and azure, shifting gently. "Now, that will be $500," Clare said clapping her hands gently to signify it was time for them to leave.
"Which one of you is paying today?" Clare looked around questioningly.
They shifted awkwardly.
Carmene spoke, "Clare, I think there's been a miscommunication."
Clare raised an eyebrow, "Oh really?" the sarcasm dripping off her tongue was enough to melt a new hole in the ozone layer.
Iva stood, her voice raised and angry, "Yes, Clare, a definite miscommunication. You see we thought you were going to help us, not try to rip us the fuck off. 'Oh a girl/boy, half man/half fish and some strange man' - what does that tell us? Sweet FA, that's what."
"It means what I told you," Clare said archly.
Dirk stood, "Hey Ladies, let's not argue. You've been most helpful Clare."
Dirk started ushering the ladies out of the room.
"What about my money, you molls" screeched Clare Voyant, slipping back to her South Morang roots for a minute.
Iva turned back, "Cheque's in the mail honey." Iva took a few steps more and then turned back, "Oh, and I won't come in your mouth either."
Shandy, Carmene and Iva strutted back to the car while Dirk talked with Clare. When he got back into the car the ladies grilled him.
"I hope you didn't pay her," snapped Iva.
"Not exactly," said Dirk.
"What does that mean?"asked Carmene.
"We came to an arrangement," Dirk started the car.
Shandy felt jealous, she didn't want anyone coming to any arrangements with Dirk that didn't involve herself, some chocolate flavoured body butter and a pair of thigh high patent leather stiletto boots.
"What sort of arrangement?" she quizzed, struggling to keep the acid out of her tone.
"She's going to try again, and if she can come up with more information that will actually lead to an arrest we'll pay her double," Dirk explained.
Shandy relaxed, that seemed a fair deal.
"Well, I'm just glad we're out of there. I couldn't bear to watch Clare suck her stomach in for another twenty minutes," Shandy laughed.
"Let's head back to Mausie's and debrief," Dirk suggested.
They travelled mostly in silence but when they got to Mausie's Dirk kept the car running.
"Shandy, I wondered if we could go for a little drive? There's something I want to show you."
"Lovely" Shandy tried to keep the excitement out of her voice.
Carmene and Iva slipped out of the car discreetly winking at Shandy.
"Guess we'll see you two later?" Iva smiled suggestively.
Dirk nodded and they were off.
"So where are we off to honey?" Shandy slid her arm across the back of Dirk's seat.
Dirk just smiled giving nothing away. A few moments later he whipped his car into the carpark of the marina.
"Come on, we need to go for a walk," he took Shandy by the hand and led her down the pier.
Dirk halted in front of an impressive yacht. "This" he gestured, "is what I wanted you to see."
Shandy smiled, "It's delicious, is it yours?"
Dirk smiled suggestively, "Let's just say I've got access to it for awhile, climb aboard."
As they boarded the boat the promise of what could happen onboard this luxury cruiser set the atmosphere between Dirk and Shandy to a sizzle. His hand brushed her firm buttocks as he led her down the stairs to the gorgeous interior of this love den at sea.
The interior of the yacht was all red velvet, black leather and dark timber. There was no need for words Dirk grabbed Shandy's hand and pushed her roughly against the hand-carved oak staircase. Shandy was kissing him passionately, tasting everything she could - she wanted Dirk inside her in every possible way. But Dirk grabbed her by the wrists and pinned her hands by her sides.
"Let's make one thing clear Shandy, onboard this boat I am the skipper, do you understand?"
Shandy nodded, loving Dirk's firm approach - not to mention the massive hard on pushing into her thigh.
He continued, "You do as I say, when I say - is that clear?"
"Crystal" she responded.
Dirk pulled Shandy over to the king size bed and then he lay down on it. She remained standing at the foot of the bed. He leant over and hit the button on the inbuilt stereo in the bedhead.
"I think you may be an illegal immigrant so I'm going to need to strip search you, but first I want you to strip search yourself."
Shandy nodded, knowing exactly want to do. She moved her body suggestively to the music, she kept it raunchy but not too slutty and slowly undressed, teasing Dirk with the merest flash of her firm breasts of bending over to showcase her amazing legs and the temptations on offer. Eventually he pulled her onto the bed and pushed himself on top of her.
"Shandy, I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone."
"I feel the same," Shandy gasped feeling overwhelmed with emotion. Dirk smiled then stood up, pulling Shandy to the edge of the bed so she was sitting facing him.
"Do you want me to fuck you Shandy?" His voice was firm, guttural, pure animal sex.
"Yes, I do more than anything." Shandy gushed.
Dirk grabbed her face is his hands, forcing her to look up at his face, "Then prove it."
He let her face go and Shandy knew exactly what he wanted. She worked furiously to unzip his pants and slide off his Armani suit pants (in a gorgeous dark grey pinstripe) and his Calvin Klein boyleg underpants. My God, she'd seen some big cocks in her time but Dirk was positively packing a whole fucking conference on climate change down there. She started slowly licking the rim of his enormous prick, lapping at the small drops of juice spilling from the edges then she couldn't hold herself off a moment longer she opened her mouth as wide as she could and took him in, as deeply and strongly as she could. She sucked him hard, taking him deeper and deeper with each thrust, she'd been accused of being a big mouth in the past but even Angelina Jolie couldn't have deepthroated this guy. She loved the sounds he was making, the raw pleasure the hardness of him inside her and the way he kept pushing himself in further and further.
Then he pulled out before he came and pushed her down on the bed and thrust himself inside her so quickly and so hard she thought she might squeal from the exquisite mix of pleasure and pain.
"Fuck, you're good" he whispered admiringly.
"Only for you" she replied breathlessly. And as they came in unison Shandy was suprised to realise she actually meant it.
************Later at Mausie's************************
"That's some rack" Dirk said admiringly.
Shandelier, freshly showered and refresed, was reclining on the art deco settee in Mausie Mc Queen's flat, Dirk standing behind her. She smoothed her hands over her charcoal Fendi cotton and leather dress shirt. She knew this shirt was worth the $500 price tag if it got Dirk looking in the right direction. It hugged her man-made curves so flatteringly they almost looked natural.
"Why thank you, it'd want to be for $20 grand."
"Twenty grand!" Dirk sputtered incredulously, "Darling I could have had a mate knock you up something similar for a couple of hundred."
Shandy turned, Dirk was hot there was no denying it, but she wasn't going to let him insult this fit set of lovejugs and get away with it.
"How dare you..." She turned preparing for a battle of words only to realise her error. Dirk was staring at Mausie's trophy rack. Shandy laughed and moved closer to Dirk.
"Most women Mausie's age have teaspoon collections or tea towels but not Mausie."
"What are all these for?" Dirk asked, lightly fingering one of the plaster statuettes on the rack.
"They're cocks," laughed Mausie, entering the room with a tray of coffee, biscuits and some top-shelf whiskey.
"Cocks?" asked Dirk.
"Let me explain, " Shandy giggled, "Mausie had a lot of lovers over the years and wanted a little something to remember each one."
Dirk picked up a rather large one, "I wouldn't call this a little something."
Mausie poured the coffee, "Oh yes, that was Ivan, my God that man was hung like pendulum. You see, I took a plaster cast of each of my lovers. That cock collection means so much to me."
Mausie suddenly rose from her seat and grabbed one of the plaster models with tears in her eyes. "This one's Morty," she hugged it close to her sagging bosom.
"Nice" Shandy uttered, "I never knew he sported such an impressive package."
"Impressive alright," Dirk said confidently, lightly readjusting his pants.
"God, I miss him, " Mausie started to howl.
Shandy, not being one to tolerate hysterics from anyone other than her own sweet self, waved her hands in the air as if trying to dry her Hot Sex 11 nail varnish. Dirk reached to grab the whiskey. But the girly hand waving, the manly movement and Mausie's heaving sagging bosom got tangled up and there was a smash.
The three gasped. Morty's cock lay shattered on the floor of Mausie's flat, but it was what was inside the broken cock that silenced them. Dirk bent and picked it up.
"What is it?" Mausie asked.
"What does it mean?" voiced Shandy.
"And who exactly put it there?" Drik questioned.
"Sorry Shandy, can't help you there." Clare Voyant stood up, her stunning sheer Pucci batwinged kaftan in hues of turquoise, cerulean, cuan and azure, shifting gently. "Now, that will be $500," Clare said clapping her hands gently to signify it was time for them to leave.
"Which one of you is paying today?" Clare looked around questioningly.
They shifted awkwardly.
Carmene spoke, "Clare, I think there's been a miscommunication."
Clare raised an eyebrow, "Oh really?" the sarcasm dripping off her tongue was enough to melt a new hole in the ozone layer.
Iva stood, her voice raised and angry, "Yes, Clare, a definite miscommunication. You see we thought you were going to help us, not try to rip us the fuck off. 'Oh a girl/boy, half man/half fish and some strange man' - what does that tell us? Sweet FA, that's what."
"It means what I told you," Clare said archly.
Dirk stood, "Hey Ladies, let's not argue. You've been most helpful Clare."
Dirk started ushering the ladies out of the room.
"What about my money, you molls" screeched Clare Voyant, slipping back to her South Morang roots for a minute.
Iva turned back, "Cheque's in the mail honey." Iva took a few steps more and then turned back, "Oh, and I won't come in your mouth either."
Shandy, Carmene and Iva strutted back to the car while Dirk talked with Clare. When he got back into the car the ladies grilled him.
"I hope you didn't pay her," snapped Iva.
"Not exactly," said Dirk.
"What does that mean?"asked Carmene.
"We came to an arrangement," Dirk started the car.
Shandy felt jealous, she didn't want anyone coming to any arrangements with Dirk that didn't involve herself, some chocolate flavoured body butter and a pair of thigh high patent leather stiletto boots.
"What sort of arrangement?" she quizzed, struggling to keep the acid out of her tone.
"She's going to try again, and if she can come up with more information that will actually lead to an arrest we'll pay her double," Dirk explained.
Shandy relaxed, that seemed a fair deal.
"Well, I'm just glad we're out of there. I couldn't bear to watch Clare suck her stomach in for another twenty minutes," Shandy laughed.
"Let's head back to Mausie's and debrief," Dirk suggested.
They travelled mostly in silence but when they got to Mausie's Dirk kept the car running.
"Shandy, I wondered if we could go for a little drive? There's something I want to show you."
"Lovely" Shandy tried to keep the excitement out of her voice.
Carmene and Iva slipped out of the car discreetly winking at Shandy.
"Guess we'll see you two later?" Iva smiled suggestively.
Dirk nodded and they were off.
"So where are we off to honey?" Shandy slid her arm across the back of Dirk's seat.
Dirk just smiled giving nothing away. A few moments later he whipped his car into the carpark of the marina.
"Come on, we need to go for a walk," he took Shandy by the hand and led her down the pier.
Dirk halted in front of an impressive yacht. "This" he gestured, "is what I wanted you to see."
Shandy smiled, "It's delicious, is it yours?"
Dirk smiled suggestively, "Let's just say I've got access to it for awhile, climb aboard."
As they boarded the boat the promise of what could happen onboard this luxury cruiser set the atmosphere between Dirk and Shandy to a sizzle. His hand brushed her firm buttocks as he led her down the stairs to the gorgeous interior of this love den at sea.
The interior of the yacht was all red velvet, black leather and dark timber. There was no need for words Dirk grabbed Shandy's hand and pushed her roughly against the hand-carved oak staircase. Shandy was kissing him passionately, tasting everything she could - she wanted Dirk inside her in every possible way. But Dirk grabbed her by the wrists and pinned her hands by her sides.
"Let's make one thing clear Shandy, onboard this boat I am the skipper, do you understand?"
Shandy nodded, loving Dirk's firm approach - not to mention the massive hard on pushing into her thigh.
He continued, "You do as I say, when I say - is that clear?"
"Crystal" she responded.
Dirk pulled Shandy over to the king size bed and then he lay down on it. She remained standing at the foot of the bed. He leant over and hit the button on the inbuilt stereo in the bedhead.
"I think you may be an illegal immigrant so I'm going to need to strip search you, but first I want you to strip search yourself."
Shandy nodded, knowing exactly want to do. She moved her body suggestively to the music, she kept it raunchy but not too slutty and slowly undressed, teasing Dirk with the merest flash of her firm breasts of bending over to showcase her amazing legs and the temptations on offer. Eventually he pulled her onto the bed and pushed himself on top of her.
"Shandy, I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone."
"I feel the same," Shandy gasped feeling overwhelmed with emotion. Dirk smiled then stood up, pulling Shandy to the edge of the bed so she was sitting facing him.
"Do you want me to fuck you Shandy?" His voice was firm, guttural, pure animal sex.
"Yes, I do more than anything." Shandy gushed.
Dirk grabbed her face is his hands, forcing her to look up at his face, "Then prove it."
He let her face go and Shandy knew exactly what he wanted. She worked furiously to unzip his pants and slide off his Armani suit pants (in a gorgeous dark grey pinstripe) and his Calvin Klein boyleg underpants. My God, she'd seen some big cocks in her time but Dirk was positively packing a whole fucking conference on climate change down there. She started slowly licking the rim of his enormous prick, lapping at the small drops of juice spilling from the edges then she couldn't hold herself off a moment longer she opened her mouth as wide as she could and took him in, as deeply and strongly as she could. She sucked him hard, taking him deeper and deeper with each thrust, she'd been accused of being a big mouth in the past but even Angelina Jolie couldn't have deepthroated this guy. She loved the sounds he was making, the raw pleasure the hardness of him inside her and the way he kept pushing himself in further and further.
Then he pulled out before he came and pushed her down on the bed and thrust himself inside her so quickly and so hard she thought she might squeal from the exquisite mix of pleasure and pain.
"Fuck, you're good" he whispered admiringly.
"Only for you" she replied breathlessly. And as they came in unison Shandy was suprised to realise she actually meant it.
************Later at Mausie's************************
"That's some rack" Dirk said admiringly.
Shandelier, freshly showered and refresed, was reclining on the art deco settee in Mausie Mc Queen's flat, Dirk standing behind her. She smoothed her hands over her charcoal Fendi cotton and leather dress shirt. She knew this shirt was worth the $500 price tag if it got Dirk looking in the right direction. It hugged her man-made curves so flatteringly they almost looked natural.
"Why thank you, it'd want to be for $20 grand."
"Twenty grand!" Dirk sputtered incredulously, "Darling I could have had a mate knock you up something similar for a couple of hundred."
Shandy turned, Dirk was hot there was no denying it, but she wasn't going to let him insult this fit set of lovejugs and get away with it.
"How dare you..." She turned preparing for a battle of words only to realise her error. Dirk was staring at Mausie's trophy rack. Shandy laughed and moved closer to Dirk.
"Most women Mausie's age have teaspoon collections or tea towels but not Mausie."
"What are all these for?" Dirk asked, lightly fingering one of the plaster statuettes on the rack.
"They're cocks," laughed Mausie, entering the room with a tray of coffee, biscuits and some top-shelf whiskey.
"Cocks?" asked Dirk.
"Let me explain, " Shandy giggled, "Mausie had a lot of lovers over the years and wanted a little something to remember each one."
Dirk picked up a rather large one, "I wouldn't call this a little something."
Mausie poured the coffee, "Oh yes, that was Ivan, my God that man was hung like pendulum. You see, I took a plaster cast of each of my lovers. That cock collection means so much to me."
Mausie suddenly rose from her seat and grabbed one of the plaster models with tears in her eyes. "This one's Morty," she hugged it close to her sagging bosom.
"Nice" Shandy uttered, "I never knew he sported such an impressive package."
"Impressive alright," Dirk said confidently, lightly readjusting his pants.
"God, I miss him, " Mausie started to howl.
Shandy, not being one to tolerate hysterics from anyone other than her own sweet self, waved her hands in the air as if trying to dry her Hot Sex 11 nail varnish. Dirk reached to grab the whiskey. But the girly hand waving, the manly movement and Mausie's heaving sagging bosom got tangled up and there was a smash.
The three gasped. Morty's cock lay shattered on the floor of Mausie's flat, but it was what was inside the broken cock that silenced them. Dirk bent and picked it up.
"What is it?" Mausie asked.
"What does it mean?" voiced Shandy.
"And who exactly put it there?" Drik questioned.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Spookalulu
"Its late" said Shandy, "We can visit Clare tommorrow. Not that I want to I'll have you know. As was said, we have history and not in a good way. But I agree, she may be able to help. We have to find out who killed dear old Morty" her eyes started to water. Dirk placed his large muscular arms around her shoulders.
"Don't worry, I promise you we will find this person"
"Come on darl" said Iva "You can crash at my joint, cause I don't want you bein on your own luvvie".
"Perhaps your right Iva, thanks honey"
The following morning Dirk drove to Iva's flat in St Kilda. It was bedlum inside. All the "girls" were there. Dirk could not get a word in edgewise as they were arguing about who would join Shandy to visit Clare. Finally it was settled, Iva and Carmene would join Shandy and Dirk. Margot was most displeased and sat on the couch poutting.
Shorty after, the foursome were on there way in Dirk's snappy car.
"Why do you and Clare have a history" asked Dirk. Before Shandy could respond Carmene replied. "Oooohhh its a bitchy affair darling. Clare was THE drag queen on the Melbourne circuit. More popular than Liz Street. She was glamour, none of the usual tackiness, a veritable style maven, wore the best frocks money could buy, but then she always had a steady stream of monied boyfriends. That girl was a class act, people couldn't get enough of her........ until....... a certain black bitch arrived in town" Carmene pointed a finger at Shandy. "Clare had competition and she was pissed bad".
"It wasn't deliberate" said Shandy
"Maybe not darling, but you got your rocks off on the rivalry, admit it"
"Well I will say I enjoyed the adulation. The gay boys loved me. You have to remember Marcia Hines and I were really the only black chicks about at the time, I was at my peak sister"
"Anyways, Miss Beeotchy here soon became the darlin of drag society. And another reason she was popular, she was one of the first to go through the change"
"I don't understand....the change?" asked Dirk
"For christ sake, she was one of the first to have her cock chopped off"
"Girl, please, must you be so vulgar" replied Shandy
"Well its true. So basically Shandy started gettin all the plum jobs and Clare had to settle for being lady in waiting. She left the scene saying she was answering the psychic call, she could no longer ignore the voices in her head. She said she knew she had a talent when she took the TV Week Psychic Quiz. Now the bitch is famous and consults with all the celebs, movers and shakers.
Dirk looked at Shandy "Well it will be interesting to see how she reacts to you, does she know your coming"
"Yesssss I called and made a booking" said Iva "She was cool over the phone"
Shandy flushed with nerves.
Momements later they drove up to the gates of Clare's home, Elwood by the Bay.
"I thought you said it was run down" motioned Iva with her hand
"It was when I last saw it, but that was years ago when she first bought it" said Carmene
Dirk pushed the intercom. Seconds later a voice "hellooooo"
"Miss Voyant, ummm we have an appointment to talk with you"
"Yes, yes.... come"
The gates slid open and they approached the house, a stunning modern structure of white washed walls and floor to ceiling glass perched a top a cliff face.
"Fuck the cow is stinkin filthy rich" remarked Iva
They approached the double frosted doors and pushed the buzzer. Immediately the yapping of a dog was heard, then a voice "Snookums, get back, stop that, I said come away, MOVE IT YOU DIRTY LITTLE BITCH"
With a flourish the door was whisked open, there before them stood the "woman" herself, Miss Clare Voyant. Momentarily flustered, she gathered the small white poodle from the floor and regained her composure.
"Enchant'e dahhlings. Pardon moi, but my little precious gets carried away when the door chimes, she so loves visitors. It takes a stern voice to ummm sooth her. Do, DO come in" Clare shot a quick glance in Shandy's direction, quickly eyeballing her up and down.
Likewise Shandy eyed Clare. She had changed little over the years. A tall slim woman with prematurely greying hair that was swept into a tight and intriguing bun atop her head. She wore a stunning sheer Pucci batwinged kaftan in hues of turquoise, cerulean, cuan and azure. Around her neck a multi stranded Dinosaur Designs necklace of lapis beads, complemented by silver Georg Jensen earrings and a cuff bracelet. No makeup except for dramatic eyeshadow that Shandy instantly recognised as Guerlain Peacock Bleue # 9.
"Miss Voyant. I am Chief Dectective Dirk Flynn. I believe you know the ladies and are aware why we have come, yes?"
"My dear Detective, do call me Clare. Yes, yes we are old acquaintances. Shandy dahhling" Clare approached and air kissed her cheeks "How delighted I am to see you after soooo many years, why you have not changed a scerric. Iva, Carmene, lovely, lovely, but yes our reunion is bitter sweet is it not. Morty Hempel, dead - ghastly. I simply cannot comprehend it. That man was responsible for me success. Who would want him dead I ask you"
"Clare" said Shandy tentatively "Thankyou for allowing us to come, we need your help, we need to see if you can shed light on Morty's murder"
"Shandy, gorgeous thing. How could I not, I will do my best. Come to the parlour"
"The what" said Carmene
"The lounge, don't you know nothing" snapped Iva
They entered a large room. The windows had uniterrupted views over the ocean. In the centre was a circular glass topped table and chairs. The room was otherwise sparsely furnished except for an elaborate credenza with a statue surrounded by candles, flowers and small offering plates.
"Whats that, or should I say who's that" asked Carmene
"That" said Clare "Is Lakshmi, goddess of beauty"
"And wealth" added Dirk
"You impress me Detective. You are au fait with the Hindu religion then"
"I have an understanding of it you could say"
"Bravo, there should be more like you. I converted some years back, many in fact when I "ahem" gave up my superficial but incredibly succesful showbiz career and travelled to India where I found salvation with the spiritual enlightenment of Bagwan Shree Rajneesh and his followers, whom you would know as "Orange People". It was all so uber spiritaualle. I spent several years studying yoga and meditation which in turn opened my third eye"
Iva snickered. Caremene jabbed her with an elbow.
"This bought my psychic ability to the surface and the rest of course is history dahhhlings. But enough of my prattling, we have work to do. Please, do take a seat"
Clare moved to a panel of buttons on the wall, suddenly the blinds lowered shrouding the room in semi darkness.
"Now dahhlings, I ask you to join hands and close your eyes whilst I take a minute to connect to the other side"
Carmene's palms moistened as adrenalin pumped through her body. Shandy felt nervous but secure holding Dirk's strong and reassuring hand.
Clare sat erect and drew deep breaths. Her eyes closed.
"Spirit world hear my plee"
"Third eye open let me see"
"Lakshmi goddess of thine temple"
"Tell me who killed Morty Hempel"
Several seconds of silence followed. THEN. Clare started to quiver. The room grew cold. THEN, her eyes popped open.
"A vision. I have a vision. This horridness, yes yes, its growing clearer, come dahhling show me, show me"
"Who the hell is she talking to" whispered Iva to Carmene
"Shhhh"
"It is not A PERSON, it is PEOPLE that you seek. There are 2, no NO wait, there are 3. Yes,
they are showing me signs, at first it was a riddle, it perplexed me, but now I see. The first is a boy but he looks like a girl, the second is a girl who looks like a boy. How biazzaro. The boy is maybe of middle eastern or oriental decent, Im not certain. The girl, large of frame, pale complexion, red hair, yes red, a little bit ugly. But who is the 3rd, come dahhling, come, show me yourself. Hmmm all Im getting is that its a male, he was the one who held the gun.......andddd, No, no, dahling don't go, stay, who are you? Wait................Too late, he has gone back into the mist, I can get no more for now, but later maybe. Is this of any help. Does it make sense to you"
"Clare, more than you can possibly realise" responded Shandy "But who is this mysterious 3rd man, who is he?"
"Don't worry, I promise you we will find this person"
"Come on darl" said Iva "You can crash at my joint, cause I don't want you bein on your own luvvie".
"Perhaps your right Iva, thanks honey"
The following morning Dirk drove to Iva's flat in St Kilda. It was bedlum inside. All the "girls" were there. Dirk could not get a word in edgewise as they were arguing about who would join Shandy to visit Clare. Finally it was settled, Iva and Carmene would join Shandy and Dirk. Margot was most displeased and sat on the couch poutting.
Shorty after, the foursome were on there way in Dirk's snappy car.
"Why do you and Clare have a history" asked Dirk. Before Shandy could respond Carmene replied. "Oooohhh its a bitchy affair darling. Clare was THE drag queen on the Melbourne circuit. More popular than Liz Street. She was glamour, none of the usual tackiness, a veritable style maven, wore the best frocks money could buy, but then she always had a steady stream of monied boyfriends. That girl was a class act, people couldn't get enough of her........ until....... a certain black bitch arrived in town" Carmene pointed a finger at Shandy. "Clare had competition and she was pissed bad".
"It wasn't deliberate" said Shandy
"Maybe not darling, but you got your rocks off on the rivalry, admit it"
"Well I will say I enjoyed the adulation. The gay boys loved me. You have to remember Marcia Hines and I were really the only black chicks about at the time, I was at my peak sister"
"Anyways, Miss Beeotchy here soon became the darlin of drag society. And another reason she was popular, she was one of the first to go through the change"
"I don't understand....the change?" asked Dirk
"For christ sake, she was one of the first to have her cock chopped off"
"Girl, please, must you be so vulgar" replied Shandy
"Well its true. So basically Shandy started gettin all the plum jobs and Clare had to settle for being lady in waiting. She left the scene saying she was answering the psychic call, she could no longer ignore the voices in her head. She said she knew she had a talent when she took the TV Week Psychic Quiz. Now the bitch is famous and consults with all the celebs, movers and shakers.
Dirk looked at Shandy "Well it will be interesting to see how she reacts to you, does she know your coming"
"Yesssss I called and made a booking" said Iva "She was cool over the phone"
Shandy flushed with nerves.
Momements later they drove up to the gates of Clare's home, Elwood by the Bay.
"I thought you said it was run down" motioned Iva with her hand
"It was when I last saw it, but that was years ago when she first bought it" said Carmene
Dirk pushed the intercom. Seconds later a voice "hellooooo"
"Miss Voyant, ummm we have an appointment to talk with you"
"Yes, yes.... come"
The gates slid open and they approached the house, a stunning modern structure of white washed walls and floor to ceiling glass perched a top a cliff face.
"Fuck the cow is stinkin filthy rich" remarked Iva
They approached the double frosted doors and pushed the buzzer. Immediately the yapping of a dog was heard, then a voice "Snookums, get back, stop that, I said come away, MOVE IT YOU DIRTY LITTLE BITCH"
With a flourish the door was whisked open, there before them stood the "woman" herself, Miss Clare Voyant. Momentarily flustered, she gathered the small white poodle from the floor and regained her composure.
"Enchant'e dahhlings. Pardon moi, but my little precious gets carried away when the door chimes, she so loves visitors. It takes a stern voice to ummm sooth her. Do, DO come in" Clare shot a quick glance in Shandy's direction, quickly eyeballing her up and down.
Likewise Shandy eyed Clare. She had changed little over the years. A tall slim woman with prematurely greying hair that was swept into a tight and intriguing bun atop her head. She wore a stunning sheer Pucci batwinged kaftan in hues of turquoise, cerulean, cuan and azure. Around her neck a multi stranded Dinosaur Designs necklace of lapis beads, complemented by silver Georg Jensen earrings and a cuff bracelet. No makeup except for dramatic eyeshadow that Shandy instantly recognised as Guerlain Peacock Bleue # 9.
"Miss Voyant. I am Chief Dectective Dirk Flynn. I believe you know the ladies and are aware why we have come, yes?"
"My dear Detective, do call me Clare. Yes, yes we are old acquaintances. Shandy dahhling" Clare approached and air kissed her cheeks "How delighted I am to see you after soooo many years, why you have not changed a scerric. Iva, Carmene, lovely, lovely, but yes our reunion is bitter sweet is it not. Morty Hempel, dead - ghastly. I simply cannot comprehend it. That man was responsible for me success. Who would want him dead I ask you"
"Clare" said Shandy tentatively "Thankyou for allowing us to come, we need your help, we need to see if you can shed light on Morty's murder"
"Shandy, gorgeous thing. How could I not, I will do my best. Come to the parlour"
"The what" said Carmene
"The lounge, don't you know nothing" snapped Iva
They entered a large room. The windows had uniterrupted views over the ocean. In the centre was a circular glass topped table and chairs. The room was otherwise sparsely furnished except for an elaborate credenza with a statue surrounded by candles, flowers and small offering plates.
"Whats that, or should I say who's that" asked Carmene
"That" said Clare "Is Lakshmi, goddess of beauty"
"And wealth" added Dirk
"You impress me Detective. You are au fait with the Hindu religion then"
"I have an understanding of it you could say"
"Bravo, there should be more like you. I converted some years back, many in fact when I "ahem" gave up my superficial but incredibly succesful showbiz career and travelled to India where I found salvation with the spiritual enlightenment of Bagwan Shree Rajneesh and his followers, whom you would know as "Orange People". It was all so uber spiritaualle. I spent several years studying yoga and meditation which in turn opened my third eye"
Iva snickered. Caremene jabbed her with an elbow.
"This bought my psychic ability to the surface and the rest of course is history dahhhlings. But enough of my prattling, we have work to do. Please, do take a seat"
Clare moved to a panel of buttons on the wall, suddenly the blinds lowered shrouding the room in semi darkness.
"Now dahhlings, I ask you to join hands and close your eyes whilst I take a minute to connect to the other side"
Carmene's palms moistened as adrenalin pumped through her body. Shandy felt nervous but secure holding Dirk's strong and reassuring hand.
Clare sat erect and drew deep breaths. Her eyes closed.
"Spirit world hear my plee"
"Third eye open let me see"
"Lakshmi goddess of thine temple"
"Tell me who killed Morty Hempel"
Several seconds of silence followed. THEN. Clare started to quiver. The room grew cold. THEN, her eyes popped open.
"A vision. I have a vision. This horridness, yes yes, its growing clearer, come dahhling show me, show me"
"Who the hell is she talking to" whispered Iva to Carmene
"Shhhh"
"It is not A PERSON, it is PEOPLE that you seek. There are 2, no NO wait, there are 3. Yes,
they are showing me signs, at first it was a riddle, it perplexed me, but now I see. The first is a boy but he looks like a girl, the second is a girl who looks like a boy. How biazzaro. The boy is maybe of middle eastern or oriental decent, Im not certain. The girl, large of frame, pale complexion, red hair, yes red, a little bit ugly. But who is the 3rd, come dahhling, come, show me yourself. Hmmm all Im getting is that its a male, he was the one who held the gun.......andddd, No, no, dahling don't go, stay, who are you? Wait................Too late, he has gone back into the mist, I can get no more for now, but later maybe. Is this of any help. Does it make sense to you"
"Clare, more than you can possibly realise" responded Shandy "But who is this mysterious 3rd man, who is he?"
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Tragedy in a soft pink spotlight
The silver light bounced off the disco mirror ball and glinted on the barrel of the pistol to the beat of "Disco Inferno".
Glint! Glint! Glint glint!
It hypnotised Shandy into a trance. She couldn't pull her eyes from its mesmerising glimmer. I'd love a sparkly number in that shade of gun metal gray, she thought to herself. It's very film noir Laurel Bacall gangster moll, it's it? I'm sure Margot could whip me up something gorgeous if I could find that same color down at Clegs...
Glint! Glint! Glint glint!
She heard a scream, but it came from someone, far far away. There was movement too, slow and languorous it seemed to her, filling the peripheral of her Dior-lined vision. Suddenly a dark shadow fell across her from out of nowhere, blocking her view of her adoring fans and breaking the spell of the gorgeous glinting gray gun.
Suddenly there was a WHOOSH! And another scream! And a burst of light! And then suddenly everything was plunged into darkness. Shandy dropped to her knees like a two-buck hooker during the last half-hour of half-price night at the Pentridge Prison Rodeo.
Another shot ripped through the inky blackness! And then other! The nancy boys in the front row unleashed a high-pitched machine-gun volley of screams that ricocheted off every hard surface in the place - including Lady Luck's tits.
Just then someone skittered past Shandy, knocking the six-foot plume headdress that completed her lavish Aztec Quetzal Bird costume to one side. The weight toppled her over; she collapsed blindly to her left expecting to hit the Sassy Palms stage, but tumbled onto a body sprawled out before her. She groped around in the hopes that she could find out who it was. "The lights!" she screamed out. "Somebody get the lights! Somebody! Franklyn? Anyone? Please! Oh for the love of God will somebody help--"
Then, in a blinding flash, Shandy's spotlight flooded the stage, bathing her in her signature British Baby Rosebud pink light that never failed to enhance her inner glow. She looked down to see the crumpled body. She recoiled, stifling a scream, her perfectly manied nails pressed against her silky smooth cheeks brushed lightly with Paula Dorf Perfect Glo.
"It's okay," a familiarly deep voice told her softly from behind. Shandalier turned and threw herself into Dirk Flynn's thick, hard, bulging arms and buried her face in his barreled chest.
"But...but..." she whimpered. Wet sobs were bubbling to the surface now. "...it's all because of me...he...he...threw himself in front of me...and he...he took the bullet for me."
"Do you know who he is?" Dirk asked.
Shandy nodded. "It's Morty Hemple. He used to own the Sassy Palms. Do you think he's carked it?"
Shandy felt Dirk's massive chest heave up and down as he nodded. "I'm afraid so, my darling."
Shandy's eyes popped open. Darling? Darling? Did he just call me "Darling"? Am I his darling? Well now, this was a delightful turn of events. She pulled her face from the stunning cleft between Dirk's pecs and looked up at him, drowning herself in his melted Belgian chocolate eyes. She was about to tell him that he was her darling too when suddenly across the empty bar a high-pitched voice erupted.
"OH MY GOD! WE'VE FOUND IT! WE'VE FOUND I-I-I-I-I-I-I-!"
Shandalier and Dirk shielded their eyes from the softening haze of Shandy's signature British Baby Rosebud pink light and spied Iva and Carmene working their way around the deserted tables of the Sassy Palms. This was the first time Shandy had even noticed the joint was emptier than a synagogue on Christmas. As the pair drew closer, Shandy could make out that Iva was holding something in her left hand, or more specifically, between her thumb and pointer. She held it like you would someone else's used tampon. "What is it?" she asked.
"The murder weapon!" Carmene announced, her voice ripe with the melodrama of the moment. "Nobody saw who it was. He - or she - was dressed in your basic black, any-occasion ensemble and disappeared into the crowd as everyone was stampeding like randy rhinos."
They stepped into the light and revealed the shiny gray revolver. On the grip was a strange, squiggly symbol in the same shade of Dublin-at-Dawn Emerald Green that Shandy nearly went with on her new bathroom tiles. Shandy appeared closer. Were they letters?
"So nobody saw anything?" Dirk asked, in his knee-weakening police detective voice.
"Nobody saw nothin'," Iva told him. And then she turned to Shandy with eyes a-narrowed.
"What?" Shandy demanded. "If nobody saw nothin', what can I do?"
"You can go see you-know-who, that's what you can do?" Iva replied.
"You don't mean..."
"Yes I do mean!"
"Who?" Dirk asked.
Carmene grabbed Dirk by his impressive forearm. "Iva here is referring to none other than Melbourne's foremost drag queen-slash-psychic: Miss Clare Voyant. She's amazing. She knows all. She sees all. She tells all."
Dirk turned to look at Shandy. She could read his meltie chockie eyes clear as day: "We have no other clues to help us solve Morty's murder."
"We have a history," Shandalier told him petulantly. "And it isn't pretty."
"Where does she live?" he asked.
"In a rundown house down at the beach," Iva piped up. "It's ever so spooky, it is. It's up on the cliff overlooking everything. You can't miss it. It's called Elwood By The Bay."
Dirk grabbed Shandy firmly by the shoulders and stared deeply into her troubled orbs. "We must go see Clare Voyant," he told her. "Do it. Do it for Morty."
Glint! Glint! Glint glint!
It hypnotised Shandy into a trance. She couldn't pull her eyes from its mesmerising glimmer. I'd love a sparkly number in that shade of gun metal gray, she thought to herself. It's very film noir Laurel Bacall gangster moll, it's it? I'm sure Margot could whip me up something gorgeous if I could find that same color down at Clegs...
Glint! Glint! Glint glint!
She heard a scream, but it came from someone, far far away. There was movement too, slow and languorous it seemed to her, filling the peripheral of her Dior-lined vision. Suddenly a dark shadow fell across her from out of nowhere, blocking her view of her adoring fans and breaking the spell of the gorgeous glinting gray gun.
Suddenly there was a WHOOSH! And another scream! And a burst of light! And then suddenly everything was plunged into darkness. Shandy dropped to her knees like a two-buck hooker during the last half-hour of half-price night at the Pentridge Prison Rodeo.
Another shot ripped through the inky blackness! And then other! The nancy boys in the front row unleashed a high-pitched machine-gun volley of screams that ricocheted off every hard surface in the place - including Lady Luck's tits.
Just then someone skittered past Shandy, knocking the six-foot plume headdress that completed her lavish Aztec Quetzal Bird costume to one side. The weight toppled her over; she collapsed blindly to her left expecting to hit the Sassy Palms stage, but tumbled onto a body sprawled out before her. She groped around in the hopes that she could find out who it was. "The lights!" she screamed out. "Somebody get the lights! Somebody! Franklyn? Anyone? Please! Oh for the love of God will somebody help--"
Then, in a blinding flash, Shandy's spotlight flooded the stage, bathing her in her signature British Baby Rosebud pink light that never failed to enhance her inner glow. She looked down to see the crumpled body. She recoiled, stifling a scream, her perfectly manied nails pressed against her silky smooth cheeks brushed lightly with Paula Dorf Perfect Glo.
"It's okay," a familiarly deep voice told her softly from behind. Shandalier turned and threw herself into Dirk Flynn's thick, hard, bulging arms and buried her face in his barreled chest.
"But...but..." she whimpered. Wet sobs were bubbling to the surface now. "...it's all because of me...he...he...threw himself in front of me...and he...he took the bullet for me."
"Do you know who he is?" Dirk asked.
Shandy nodded. "It's Morty Hemple. He used to own the Sassy Palms. Do you think he's carked it?"
Shandy felt Dirk's massive chest heave up and down as he nodded. "I'm afraid so, my darling."
Shandy's eyes popped open. Darling? Darling? Did he just call me "Darling"? Am I his darling? Well now, this was a delightful turn of events. She pulled her face from the stunning cleft between Dirk's pecs and looked up at him, drowning herself in his melted Belgian chocolate eyes. She was about to tell him that he was her darling too when suddenly across the empty bar a high-pitched voice erupted.
"OH MY GOD! WE'VE FOUND IT! WE'VE FOUND I-I-I-I-I-I-I-!"
Shandalier and Dirk shielded their eyes from the softening haze of Shandy's signature British Baby Rosebud pink light and spied Iva and Carmene working their way around the deserted tables of the Sassy Palms. This was the first time Shandy had even noticed the joint was emptier than a synagogue on Christmas. As the pair drew closer, Shandy could make out that Iva was holding something in her left hand, or more specifically, between her thumb and pointer. She held it like you would someone else's used tampon. "What is it?" she asked.
"The murder weapon!" Carmene announced, her voice ripe with the melodrama of the moment. "Nobody saw who it was. He - or she - was dressed in your basic black, any-occasion ensemble and disappeared into the crowd as everyone was stampeding like randy rhinos."
They stepped into the light and revealed the shiny gray revolver. On the grip was a strange, squiggly symbol in the same shade of Dublin-at-Dawn Emerald Green that Shandy nearly went with on her new bathroom tiles. Shandy appeared closer. Were they letters?
"So nobody saw anything?" Dirk asked, in his knee-weakening police detective voice.
"Nobody saw nothin'," Iva told him. And then she turned to Shandy with eyes a-narrowed.
"What?" Shandy demanded. "If nobody saw nothin', what can I do?"
"You can go see you-know-who, that's what you can do?" Iva replied.
"You don't mean..."
"Yes I do mean!"
"Who?" Dirk asked.
Carmene grabbed Dirk by his impressive forearm. "Iva here is referring to none other than Melbourne's foremost drag queen-slash-psychic: Miss Clare Voyant. She's amazing. She knows all. She sees all. She tells all."
Dirk turned to look at Shandy. She could read his meltie chockie eyes clear as day: "We have no other clues to help us solve Morty's murder."
"We have a history," Shandalier told him petulantly. "And it isn't pretty."
"Where does she live?" he asked.
"In a rundown house down at the beach," Iva piped up. "It's ever so spooky, it is. It's up on the cliff overlooking everything. You can't miss it. It's called Elwood By The Bay."
Dirk grabbed Shandy firmly by the shoulders and stared deeply into her troubled orbs. "We must go see Clare Voyant," he told her. "Do it. Do it for Morty."
Sunday, February 04, 2007
...and then there were nine.
The music was thumping, the toned bodies of the sexy young dancers were glistening with a wild concoction of Bev's Bootylicious Body juice and salty sweat, the smell of thos bodies was driving Shandy wild - but there'd be plenty of time for post-show celebrating later, now she heeded to show the crowd what they came fore - hard tits, long legs and the moves as saucy as a XXX hot chilli tabasco. The crowd were perched on the edges of their gold-lame-padded retro kitchen chairs - this was going down as one of the wildest nights in the history of The Sassy Palms.
Shandy kept her back to the crowd. Her long toned legs jigging as she shook her buns of steel to the rhythmic Mayan beat. The stage was packed: Shandy, Iva Biggun, Lady Luck, Caress, Margot Bourgeois and the three dancers and then of course Carmene and Morty waiting in the wings. Ten little Mayan Indians having the time of their lives - and for one of them, that life was about to end. Snuffed out like the career of a former child-star who thought making a gay sex tape was a good idea at the time.
Shandy spun, hiding her face from the audience with her slender, perfectly manicured hands (nails painted in Mayan Musque for the occasion), she slowly drew her hands back, teasing the audience who were desperate to gaze upon her elegant visage. The music took a dramatic turn and Shandy pulled her hands back, flicked back her hair with the merest shake of her neck and strutted towards the audience. They were out of their seats, they were screaming - man this girl could lip-synch to 'The Road from Gundagai' and the audience would still lap it up.
It was one of those nights when performing is almost religious, Shandy shook it, shimmied and swung like no-one had for years. The timing, the electricity and the movement between all the performers was evident. The crowd were on their feet, screaming for more. The number finished and the Shandy and the other performers ran backstage, hot with exhaustion but high on the atmosphere.
Morty lit a cigar, 'Shandy darling I've seen some stuff in my time, but Baby you should be taking this one to Vegas.'
Carmene passed around handtowels, 'Don't smudge your make-up girls I think this crowd won't be going until they see some more.'
And she was right, the crowd was screaming for an encore.
Shandy locked eyes with Iva, 'Let's do it' and they all rushed back onstage to the rapturous applause of a dedicated crowd.
Franklyn hit the music and the lights and the performers swung back into action but suddenly Shandy froze. She'd been scanning the faces of the crowd, waving to the regulars, blowing flirtatious kisses to the gorgeous young things in the front row, making a wisecrack at the expense of the fat girl in the tiara - when someone caught her eye. The crowd stopped, everyone craning their necks to see who had caught the attention of Shandy and caused all that glorious post-orgasmic flush to drain from a face they all loved.
But it wasn't who had stopped Shandy in her tracks but what. A gleaming silver pistol - aimed straight at the stage. A single shot was fired, the crack deafening. There was confusion, some people laughing thinking this was part of the show - others screaming in blind panic desperate to flee. The performers dropped to the floor of the stage. The lights went out - the power had been cut. It was chaos, complete Mystique Mayan Mayhem throughout The Sassy Palms. It would take twenty minutes before anyone realised that a precious life had been lost on the stage of The Sassy Palms that night. A life drained away down the plughole of camp that was The SassyPalms. And then there were nine...
Shandy kept her back to the crowd. Her long toned legs jigging as she shook her buns of steel to the rhythmic Mayan beat. The stage was packed: Shandy, Iva Biggun, Lady Luck, Caress, Margot Bourgeois and the three dancers and then of course Carmene and Morty waiting in the wings. Ten little Mayan Indians having the time of their lives - and for one of them, that life was about to end. Snuffed out like the career of a former child-star who thought making a gay sex tape was a good idea at the time.
Shandy spun, hiding her face from the audience with her slender, perfectly manicured hands (nails painted in Mayan Musque for the occasion), she slowly drew her hands back, teasing the audience who were desperate to gaze upon her elegant visage. The music took a dramatic turn and Shandy pulled her hands back, flicked back her hair with the merest shake of her neck and strutted towards the audience. They were out of their seats, they were screaming - man this girl could lip-synch to 'The Road from Gundagai' and the audience would still lap it up.
It was one of those nights when performing is almost religious, Shandy shook it, shimmied and swung like no-one had for years. The timing, the electricity and the movement between all the performers was evident. The crowd were on their feet, screaming for more. The number finished and the Shandy and the other performers ran backstage, hot with exhaustion but high on the atmosphere.
Morty lit a cigar, 'Shandy darling I've seen some stuff in my time, but Baby you should be taking this one to Vegas.'
Carmene passed around handtowels, 'Don't smudge your make-up girls I think this crowd won't be going until they see some more.'
And she was right, the crowd was screaming for an encore.
Shandy locked eyes with Iva, 'Let's do it' and they all rushed back onstage to the rapturous applause of a dedicated crowd.
Franklyn hit the music and the lights and the performers swung back into action but suddenly Shandy froze. She'd been scanning the faces of the crowd, waving to the regulars, blowing flirtatious kisses to the gorgeous young things in the front row, making a wisecrack at the expense of the fat girl in the tiara - when someone caught her eye. The crowd stopped, everyone craning their necks to see who had caught the attention of Shandy and caused all that glorious post-orgasmic flush to drain from a face they all loved.
But it wasn't who had stopped Shandy in her tracks but what. A gleaming silver pistol - aimed straight at the stage. A single shot was fired, the crack deafening. There was confusion, some people laughing thinking this was part of the show - others screaming in blind panic desperate to flee. The performers dropped to the floor of the stage. The lights went out - the power had been cut. It was chaos, complete Mystique Mayan Mayhem throughout The Sassy Palms. It would take twenty minutes before anyone realised that a precious life had been lost on the stage of The Sassy Palms that night. A life drained away down the plughole of camp that was The SassyPalms. And then there were nine...
Saturday, December 02, 2006
A Date With Destiny
"Somethin dangerous" queried Shandy, as they sped off to Mausie's house. "Honey, I don't DO dangerous. But Im ever so curious, what do you mean".
"Get in the car and I will explain my plan" said Dirk
As they were about to pull away, Liz leaned out her window tossing an emptied Fosters stubbie toward them, screaming "Not even a fuckin thanks ya chunts".
Shandy, Dirk and Mausie looked back in horror, not for the fact that Liz threw the stubbie, or due to the stream of obscentities that flowed from her rancid lips, but the fact that as she lean't out the window, her stained Osti frock fell open revealing tits resembling a couple of flat wind socks. Shandy gagged.
Dirk went on "Imelda is certainly responsible for all this and she is using the Sassy Palms to launder her drugs. Word has it she is becoming a major player about town, but we have no proof. She wants you out of the picture, thats for sure, but she thinks you have gone into hiding"
"Well I am in hiding"
"Ahhh yes, until you make your triumphant reappearance on stage at the Sassy Palms tommorrow night"
"Darling I leave that to the girls, I have not performed in yonks" replied Shandy whilst suggestively stroking the leather seat of Dirk's Mustang with the tip of her impeccably manied finger nails, which reminded her, she needed to call Sooling her nail technician to have her the silicon touched up.
"Shandy, you were famous for you performances, your the best in the business, let word get out that you will be making a one off appearance to celebrate your innocence. This will piss Imelda big time and if we are lucky she may just show her true colours?
"If you think it will help" said Shandy
"Im sure it will, but first we must get you to Mausie's so that you can freshen up and rest"
"Yes my dear" said Mausie "You can stay as long as you like
On arrival at Mausie's, Shandy flipped open her phone and dialled.
"Margot love, its about the show....yeah yeah the new one Mystique Mayan Mayhem. I will be taking the lead for a one off performance..........Yes yes I know Imelda won't be happy, but its my decision and she will have to go with it, thanks ever so darlin, see you tommorrow night"
"Good" said Dirk "Im sure Imelda will react when she knows your back, especially since you are taking the lead role from her"
Shandy stared at Dirk, her lashes fluttered "Should I be nervous"
Dirk grabbed her hands and lead her to the hallway, they were alone. "Not whilst Im with you. There is no way I will let anything happen, you know you can trust me"
Shandy hoped that she could trust him to take her then and there on the floor. She desired him so, but suppressed these thoughts....................for now.
Dirk stared intensely at Shandy, she was beautiful and the the chemistry between them was tangible. Moving closer their lips parted and they passionately embraced, tongues uniting. Shandy slipped her hand down his Dolce and Gabana shirt, his hairy chest was firm to the touch. Hmmmmm, Shandy liked them masculine and toned. She tweeked his nipple which became immediatly errect.
"Coffees ready" yelled Mausie from the kitchen.
Dirk and Shandy broke from their grasp, momentarily flustered. There would be plenty of time to finish what they had started, thought Shandy.
Later the following day, Shandy arrived at the Sassy Palms where she met with Margot to go over the nights performance.
"Im nervous" said Margot, "I told her she was not taking the lead in tonights show and she spat it, came out with all this asian babble. I tell you Shandy she is in a mood"
"She will just have to get over it won't she" replied Shandy
Bit by bit the other "girls" arrived for the pre show rehearsal. Iva Biggun, Carmene, Lady Luck and Caress were ready to go.
"Girl I think its fab that you are performing tonight in celebration of your bein found innocent" said Carmene "The word has got round and we are expecting the house to be full to the headbands"
"Excellent. Where is Imelda" asked Shandy
"She has called in ill" said Lady Luck, "As if"
"Fine, we can work without her, lets get started"
MEANWHILE IN IMELDA'S APARTMENT.
"I tell you Veela, I no happee" said Imelda as she paced the floor driving her stilettoed heels into the magenta faux fur rug.
"I know I know" said Vera gruffly.
"She mucking my plans. She sposed to be out of pucking country and I get Sassy Palms for my bizness venture, big shipment alive soon. Veela, Shandy have to go for good. You stupi bi, you fail first time, but this time we no fail darling, we get her, get her good, yesssss?"
LATER THAT N IGHT AT THE SASSY PALMS
Backstage the girls were all a fluster. It was the first time they were to perform the new show "Mystique Mayan Mahem". Margot had excelled with the costuming and they even had three hunky male dancers that were to wear as little as possible. This would keep the queens happy she thought.
The Sassy Palms was FULL, not a seat was vacant and people were even standing at the back and sides. Word had spread that Miss Shandalier Wilson was making a rare performance. She was the best and the room was electric. Amongst the crowd were undercover cops and of course Dirk was there too. His eyes peeled.
The lights dimmed, the room fell silent as the silver lame curtains parted. The stage was bathed in gold light. Suddenly the music cranked up it was a throbbing Mexican infused techno beat. The girls sashayed onto the stage, they were wearing amazing Mayan inspired emsembles of bronze lurex and "sun" shaped headresses. Sublime.
The music reached fever pitch and finally Shandy made her appearance on a revolving platform, she wore a lavish costume depicting the sacred Aztec Quetzal Bird, in hues of shimmering emerald green and red, a red best described as the red of a 10 dollar bargain bin Gap tee shirt. Tacky but somehow appropriate. Her head was adorned with plumage. She was a vision.
The dancers began to writhe and gyrate about her using exotic and erotic moves, the girls were dancing up a storm. But then, just as she was about to lip sync herself into a frenzy...............
"Get in the car and I will explain my plan" said Dirk
As they were about to pull away, Liz leaned out her window tossing an emptied Fosters stubbie toward them, screaming "Not even a fuckin thanks ya chunts".
Shandy, Dirk and Mausie looked back in horror, not for the fact that Liz threw the stubbie, or due to the stream of obscentities that flowed from her rancid lips, but the fact that as she lean't out the window, her stained Osti frock fell open revealing tits resembling a couple of flat wind socks. Shandy gagged.
Dirk went on "Imelda is certainly responsible for all this and she is using the Sassy Palms to launder her drugs. Word has it she is becoming a major player about town, but we have no proof. She wants you out of the picture, thats for sure, but she thinks you have gone into hiding"
"Well I am in hiding"
"Ahhh yes, until you make your triumphant reappearance on stage at the Sassy Palms tommorrow night"
"Darling I leave that to the girls, I have not performed in yonks" replied Shandy whilst suggestively stroking the leather seat of Dirk's Mustang with the tip of her impeccably manied finger nails, which reminded her, she needed to call Sooling her nail technician to have her the silicon touched up.
"Shandy, you were famous for you performances, your the best in the business, let word get out that you will be making a one off appearance to celebrate your innocence. This will piss Imelda big time and if we are lucky she may just show her true colours?
"If you think it will help" said Shandy
"Im sure it will, but first we must get you to Mausie's so that you can freshen up and rest"
"Yes my dear" said Mausie "You can stay as long as you like
On arrival at Mausie's, Shandy flipped open her phone and dialled.
"Margot love, its about the show....yeah yeah the new one Mystique Mayan Mayhem. I will be taking the lead for a one off performance..........Yes yes I know Imelda won't be happy, but its my decision and she will have to go with it, thanks ever so darlin, see you tommorrow night"
"Good" said Dirk "Im sure Imelda will react when she knows your back, especially since you are taking the lead role from her"
Shandy stared at Dirk, her lashes fluttered "Should I be nervous"
Dirk grabbed her hands and lead her to the hallway, they were alone. "Not whilst Im with you. There is no way I will let anything happen, you know you can trust me"
Shandy hoped that she could trust him to take her then and there on the floor. She desired him so, but suppressed these thoughts....................for now.
Dirk stared intensely at Shandy, she was beautiful and the the chemistry between them was tangible. Moving closer their lips parted and they passionately embraced, tongues uniting. Shandy slipped her hand down his Dolce and Gabana shirt, his hairy chest was firm to the touch. Hmmmmm, Shandy liked them masculine and toned. She tweeked his nipple which became immediatly errect.
"Coffees ready" yelled Mausie from the kitchen.
Dirk and Shandy broke from their grasp, momentarily flustered. There would be plenty of time to finish what they had started, thought Shandy.
Later the following day, Shandy arrived at the Sassy Palms where she met with Margot to go over the nights performance.
"Im nervous" said Margot, "I told her she was not taking the lead in tonights show and she spat it, came out with all this asian babble. I tell you Shandy she is in a mood"
"She will just have to get over it won't she" replied Shandy
Bit by bit the other "girls" arrived for the pre show rehearsal. Iva Biggun, Carmene, Lady Luck and Caress were ready to go.
"Girl I think its fab that you are performing tonight in celebration of your bein found innocent" said Carmene "The word has got round and we are expecting the house to be full to the headbands"
"Excellent. Where is Imelda" asked Shandy
"She has called in ill" said Lady Luck, "As if"
"Fine, we can work without her, lets get started"
MEANWHILE IN IMELDA'S APARTMENT.
"I tell you Veela, I no happee" said Imelda as she paced the floor driving her stilettoed heels into the magenta faux fur rug.
"I know I know" said Vera gruffly.
"She mucking my plans. She sposed to be out of pucking country and I get Sassy Palms for my bizness venture, big shipment alive soon. Veela, Shandy have to go for good. You stupi bi, you fail first time, but this time we no fail darling, we get her, get her good, yesssss?"
LATER THAT N IGHT AT THE SASSY PALMS
Backstage the girls were all a fluster. It was the first time they were to perform the new show "Mystique Mayan Mahem". Margot had excelled with the costuming and they even had three hunky male dancers that were to wear as little as possible. This would keep the queens happy she thought.
The Sassy Palms was FULL, not a seat was vacant and people were even standing at the back and sides. Word had spread that Miss Shandalier Wilson was making a rare performance. She was the best and the room was electric. Amongst the crowd were undercover cops and of course Dirk was there too. His eyes peeled.
The lights dimmed, the room fell silent as the silver lame curtains parted. The stage was bathed in gold light. Suddenly the music cranked up it was a throbbing Mexican infused techno beat. The girls sashayed onto the stage, they were wearing amazing Mayan inspired emsembles of bronze lurex and "sun" shaped headresses. Sublime.
The music reached fever pitch and finally Shandy made her appearance on a revolving platform, she wore a lavish costume depicting the sacred Aztec Quetzal Bird, in hues of shimmering emerald green and red, a red best described as the red of a 10 dollar bargain bin Gap tee shirt. Tacky but somehow appropriate. Her head was adorned with plumage. She was a vision.
The dancers began to writhe and gyrate about her using exotic and erotic moves, the girls were dancing up a storm. But then, just as she was about to lip sync herself into a frenzy...............
Monday, October 16, 2006
Living With Liz
Liz Street rammed a bent Marlboro in between her cracked lips. "You know what your problem is, doncha luv?" she asked, squinting around to find her lighter.
Shandalier retrieved Liz's Bic lighter from on top of the Flemington Trots racing form and handed it to Liz. She looked around the cramped bedsit of Melbourne's former leading drag diva, located in not-so-leading Hopper's Crossing. Liz had had to move there after she'd defaulted on the mortgage of her Shepparton pig farm. Another slide downwards. Shandalier sighed. "Why don't you tell me what my problem is, Liz."
Liz lit up and sucked at her ciggie so hard that nearly half of it had been reduced to ash by the time she'd copped a lungful. "Your problem is that you're too fucken noice."
"How do you figure that, Liz?"
Liz sucked up the other half of her Marlboro and flicked the stub over towards the sink that smelled of last week's fried eggs and bacon from the Not Quite Right Shop. The stub didn't quite make it that far and landed instead on a puddle of something purpley-green that Shandalier hadn't found the courage to approach, let alone clean up. "You gotta be tough," Liz insisted. She balled her bony left hand into something vaguely resembling a fist. “You gotta show ‘em whose Queen fucken Bea around ‘ere.” She thrust her fist into the air, causing her underarm fat to wobble and bounce like turkey giblets. “I never took no shit from no one. Not at Pokies and not at that other place where I starred before that.”
“You mean Fitzroy Street, corner of Grey Street?”
Liz puzzled that one, like someone trying to recall the name of her first-born. “What was the name of that club?” she asked.
“Skip it,” Shandalier told her with a heavy sigh. She got to her feet and wandered over to Liz’s picture window: it overlooked the Werribee Sewage Farm. As she gazed out on the plumes of reddish brown smoke she wondered how glam her life had been just a day or two ago. Audience adulation at the Sassy Palms, gorgeous gowns of intricate fabrics, Franklyn's devastating pecs and rippling abs and a close encounter with the enigmatic Senior Detective Dirk Flynn --- he of the long, knowing looks; he of the wide, strong hands. Amorous dabblings with Franklyn was one thing - he was always good for a quick pick-me-up-and-throw-me-down, but Senior Detective Flynn. Well now, he was a cowboy of quite a different pony. There had been sparks, had there not? That buzz of electricity that crackled between them when he'd leaned in close. Surely she hadn't been imagining it. Surely he'd felt it too. But it was too late now. She was under suspicion and he was The Law. But oh, what could have been in another time and another place...
"ARE YOUSE LISTENIN' TO ME, OR WHAT?" Liz's voice cut through Shandy's thoughts like cubic zirconia on cheap glass. "I sayed," Liz insisted "that you gotta be a strong woman. Oh, I haaaate to think where I'd be now if I hadn't been stronger than an East German lesbian. Imagine what would have become of me."
Shandalier looked around her and wondered if Melbourne's former leading diva---
Suddenly Liz's suspiciously sticky telephone rang. Liz lit up another Marlboro, pushed it to the side of her mouth and picked up the receiver. "Yeah? Who? You want what?" Liz sighed and thrust the phone towards Shandy. "It's some old broad arksing for ya."
Shandy carefully took the phone - it had a slightly slimy feel to it that only a microbiologist could love. "This is Shandalier," she said hopefully.
"Shandy, my dear, it's Mausie, Mausie McQueen here."
"Mausie...?" Shandalier repeated. Unconsciously she gripped the telephone tighter. "Wha...? How did you know...?"
Mausie let out a warm laugh. "Oh sweetie. I'm Iva and Carmene's landlady - do you really think there's anything I don't know? What a time you've had, eh?"
Tears began to moisten Shandy's eyes. Thank heavens she had had the foresight to apply some Diane von Furstenberg Flirting Glances Volume Mascara - Cyclone Tracy couldn't budge that stuff. "Oh Mausie...oh Mausie..." was all she could muster.
"The accusations of murder, the arson, not to mention those horrid blood stains on your gorgeous new tiling. As if that wasn't enough, they've gone and flung you out here in Hopper's Crossing. I mean Hopper's Crossing for gawd's sake. Not even Daryl Somers deserves that. Good lord, this place is depressing with a capital DUH."
"Wait Mausie," Shandy gasped, "what do you mean out here in Hopper's Crossing...? Where are you?"
"Mausie?" Liz demanded. "Who the fuck is Mausie? Didn't she do that Footballer's Balls show at Three Faces?"
Shandy ignored her hostess.
"Look out the window," Mausie told her.
Shandy rushed back to the window and looked down at the treeless street. There, standing next to a crimson Ford Mustang convertible was Iva and Carmene's landlady, a mobile phone in one hand and with the other she was waving up at Shandy. "We've come to get you out of here."
"We?" Shandy cried, barely able to credit her luck.
At that moment the driver behind the wheel of the Mustang turned around and looked up towards where Shandy stood. It was Senior Detective Dirk Flynn. Mausie handed her mobile phone to him. "Miss Wilson," he said, his voice deep and thick like melted Belgian chocolate, "All the accusations against you have been false. I know that now. I want to help you ---"
But Shandalier heard no more. She flung the phone towards the decrepit Liz who was by now three beers beyond understanding what the hell was going on. In a swift yet ladylike swoop she collected up her Francesco Biasia Orvieto Short Shoulder bag (the one contoured coordinated color top stitching and the polished silver hardware accents) and flung herself through Liz's front doorway and into Dirk's waiting bulging comforting brawny powerful protective arms. He pressed his lips against her jewel-encrusted lobe. "I'm here," he whispered, as she sobbed into his perfectly darling Mediterranean aqua blue Dolce & Gabbana button-down shirt, "I'm in your corner."
She pressed her body against his. And with any luck, she thought to herself, by nightfall you'll be in my pants. But that would have been inappropriate and unladylike so instead she whispered back, "I know, I know..."
"We're going to get to the bottom of this," he told her, "But in order to do that there something we must do. Something dangerous..."
Shandalier retrieved Liz's Bic lighter from on top of the Flemington Trots racing form and handed it to Liz. She looked around the cramped bedsit of Melbourne's former leading drag diva, located in not-so-leading Hopper's Crossing. Liz had had to move there after she'd defaulted on the mortgage of her Shepparton pig farm. Another slide downwards. Shandalier sighed. "Why don't you tell me what my problem is, Liz."
Liz lit up and sucked at her ciggie so hard that nearly half of it had been reduced to ash by the time she'd copped a lungful. "Your problem is that you're too fucken noice."
"How do you figure that, Liz?"
Liz sucked up the other half of her Marlboro and flicked the stub over towards the sink that smelled of last week's fried eggs and bacon from the Not Quite Right Shop. The stub didn't quite make it that far and landed instead on a puddle of something purpley-green that Shandalier hadn't found the courage to approach, let alone clean up. "You gotta be tough," Liz insisted. She balled her bony left hand into something vaguely resembling a fist. “You gotta show ‘em whose Queen fucken Bea around ‘ere.” She thrust her fist into the air, causing her underarm fat to wobble and bounce like turkey giblets. “I never took no shit from no one. Not at Pokies and not at that other place where I starred before that.”
“You mean Fitzroy Street, corner of Grey Street?”
Liz puzzled that one, like someone trying to recall the name of her first-born. “What was the name of that club?” she asked.
“Skip it,” Shandalier told her with a heavy sigh. She got to her feet and wandered over to Liz’s picture window: it overlooked the Werribee Sewage Farm. As she gazed out on the plumes of reddish brown smoke she wondered how glam her life had been just a day or two ago. Audience adulation at the Sassy Palms, gorgeous gowns of intricate fabrics, Franklyn's devastating pecs and rippling abs and a close encounter with the enigmatic Senior Detective Dirk Flynn --- he of the long, knowing looks; he of the wide, strong hands. Amorous dabblings with Franklyn was one thing - he was always good for a quick pick-me-up-and-throw-me-down, but Senior Detective Flynn. Well now, he was a cowboy of quite a different pony. There had been sparks, had there not? That buzz of electricity that crackled between them when he'd leaned in close. Surely she hadn't been imagining it. Surely he'd felt it too. But it was too late now. She was under suspicion and he was The Law. But oh, what could have been in another time and another place...
"ARE YOUSE LISTENIN' TO ME, OR WHAT?" Liz's voice cut through Shandy's thoughts like cubic zirconia on cheap glass. "I sayed," Liz insisted "that you gotta be a strong woman. Oh, I haaaate to think where I'd be now if I hadn't been stronger than an East German lesbian. Imagine what would have become of me."
Shandalier looked around her and wondered if Melbourne's former leading diva---
Suddenly Liz's suspiciously sticky telephone rang. Liz lit up another Marlboro, pushed it to the side of her mouth and picked up the receiver. "Yeah? Who? You want what?" Liz sighed and thrust the phone towards Shandy. "It's some old broad arksing for ya."
Shandy carefully took the phone - it had a slightly slimy feel to it that only a microbiologist could love. "This is Shandalier," she said hopefully.
"Shandy, my dear, it's Mausie, Mausie McQueen here."
"Mausie...?" Shandalier repeated. Unconsciously she gripped the telephone tighter. "Wha...? How did you know...?"
Mausie let out a warm laugh. "Oh sweetie. I'm Iva and Carmene's landlady - do you really think there's anything I don't know? What a time you've had, eh?"
Tears began to moisten Shandy's eyes. Thank heavens she had had the foresight to apply some Diane von Furstenberg Flirting Glances Volume Mascara - Cyclone Tracy couldn't budge that stuff. "Oh Mausie...oh Mausie..." was all she could muster.
"The accusations of murder, the arson, not to mention those horrid blood stains on your gorgeous new tiling. As if that wasn't enough, they've gone and flung you out here in Hopper's Crossing. I mean Hopper's Crossing for gawd's sake. Not even Daryl Somers deserves that. Good lord, this place is depressing with a capital DUH."
"Wait Mausie," Shandy gasped, "what do you mean out here in Hopper's Crossing...? Where are you?"
"Mausie?" Liz demanded. "Who the fuck is Mausie? Didn't she do that Footballer's Balls show at Three Faces?"
Shandy ignored her hostess.
"Look out the window," Mausie told her.
Shandy rushed back to the window and looked down at the treeless street. There, standing next to a crimson Ford Mustang convertible was Iva and Carmene's landlady, a mobile phone in one hand and with the other she was waving up at Shandy. "We've come to get you out of here."
"We?" Shandy cried, barely able to credit her luck.
At that moment the driver behind the wheel of the Mustang turned around and looked up towards where Shandy stood. It was Senior Detective Dirk Flynn. Mausie handed her mobile phone to him. "Miss Wilson," he said, his voice deep and thick like melted Belgian chocolate, "All the accusations against you have been false. I know that now. I want to help you ---"
But Shandalier heard no more. She flung the phone towards the decrepit Liz who was by now three beers beyond understanding what the hell was going on. In a swift yet ladylike swoop she collected up her Francesco Biasia Orvieto Short Shoulder bag (the one contoured coordinated color top stitching and the polished silver hardware accents) and flung herself through Liz's front doorway and into Dirk's waiting bulging comforting brawny powerful protective arms. He pressed his lips against her jewel-encrusted lobe. "I'm here," he whispered, as she sobbed into his perfectly darling Mediterranean aqua blue Dolce & Gabbana button-down shirt, "I'm in your corner."
She pressed her body against his. And with any luck, she thought to herself, by nightfall you'll be in my pants. But that would have been inappropriate and unladylike so instead she whispered back, "I know, I know..."
"We're going to get to the bottom of this," he told her, "But in order to do that there something we must do. Something dangerous..."
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Flee with Alacrity
The cackling and camp tomfoolery continued as the girls sped away in Iva's Canary Yellow Holden Commodore. An oldie but a goodie.
"What did you mean when you said I would be going far away" asked Shandy.
"Well honey" replied Carmene "You can't stick around here, its too dangerous".
"Whaddya mean"
"Someone is trying to set you up. They have tried pinning the murder of Magic and the burning down of Thai Me Up on you sweetie"
"Darling who is THEY and more importantly WHY?" asked Shandy
Carmene looked at Shandy, her eyes heavily penciled and shaded in her favourite colour shadow "Peacock Plumage Blue". I suspect a certain someone is wanting to take control of the Sassy Palms and this person wants to use it as a front for "her" business on the side"
"Your confusing me"
Iva Interrupted "Listen darling, Carmene and I have suspected that one of the Sassy girls has been selling drugs on the premises, cause there have been a few undesirables in of late, well should I say more than our usual crowd. Andddd, I spied that yellow peril Imelda out back behind the loo with a guy".
"And what is so strange about that. It ain't the first time Imelda has blown a guy out back" said Shandy
Iva fluttered her false lashes in annoyance "Lissen to me, she opened her hideous excuse for a handbag, the one with pink pom poms and it was full of plastic bags with little white pills. She pulled one out and handed it to the guy who gave her $100.00. Thankfully she did not see me and I snuck back and told Carmene. So you see, this is a lot bigger than we first expected, she is dangerous and you need to lie low for a while til this all blows over"
"Im not going anywhere, Im not afraid of that skanky, cum guzzling slanty eyed, slimy, felching Filipino. I SAID IM NOT GOING ANYWHERE".
Carmene fixed Shandy with one of her I mean business stares "Yes you are. We have arranged for you to go stay with Liz"
"Your fucking joking" said Shandy "Im not goin up there".
Liz! Otherwise known as Elizabeth Street was Melbourne's most famed drag queen, she took centre stage at Pokies of a Sunday night for many years. These were the good old days, she was positively divalicious. But Liz fell on hard times, was unlucky in love and her "diva" position became increasingly threatend by younger "girls" on the rise. She took solace in the bottle and ultimately packed up and moved to Shepparton where she worked as a barmaid at the local RSL.
"You gotta be jokin, Im not stayin with that hasbin, uh uh no way" said Shandy
"Shuttt Uppp" said Iva firmly "Ive already had Margot pack you some clothes and we are going now"
Meanwhile Imelda was busy entertaining a gentleman caller whom she had flirted with earlier at at the Sassy Palms.
"Mmmmm darlingggg, that feel good, that nice. You like screw chick with dick yes, ooohhh"
Her mobile rang, she could make out the name on the screen, VERA. "Momement darling, me must take dis, just keep going. Vera, what you want honey, me errrr busy"
"You won't be happy, but Shandalier has was released, they have no hard evidence and, ummm, she ate nothing" replied Vera.
"Fuck, fuck fuck. You stupi bit, what we do now? Hmmmm, but they not know I involved, it ok. We still get rid of her, must have Sassy Palm cause business about to boom. Where she go darling"
"I have no idea, she left with 2 of those drag queens and they drove off"
"Well me have many much way to find out thing, leave to me darling, I see to her"
"What did you mean when you said I would be going far away" asked Shandy.
"Well honey" replied Carmene "You can't stick around here, its too dangerous".
"Whaddya mean"
"Someone is trying to set you up. They have tried pinning the murder of Magic and the burning down of Thai Me Up on you sweetie"
"Darling who is THEY and more importantly WHY?" asked Shandy
Carmene looked at Shandy, her eyes heavily penciled and shaded in her favourite colour shadow "Peacock Plumage Blue". I suspect a certain someone is wanting to take control of the Sassy Palms and this person wants to use it as a front for "her" business on the side"
"Your confusing me"
Iva Interrupted "Listen darling, Carmene and I have suspected that one of the Sassy girls has been selling drugs on the premises, cause there have been a few undesirables in of late, well should I say more than our usual crowd. Andddd, I spied that yellow peril Imelda out back behind the loo with a guy".
"And what is so strange about that. It ain't the first time Imelda has blown a guy out back" said Shandy
Iva fluttered her false lashes in annoyance "Lissen to me, she opened her hideous excuse for a handbag, the one with pink pom poms and it was full of plastic bags with little white pills. She pulled one out and handed it to the guy who gave her $100.00. Thankfully she did not see me and I snuck back and told Carmene. So you see, this is a lot bigger than we first expected, she is dangerous and you need to lie low for a while til this all blows over"
"Im not going anywhere, Im not afraid of that skanky, cum guzzling slanty eyed, slimy, felching Filipino. I SAID IM NOT GOING ANYWHERE".
Carmene fixed Shandy with one of her I mean business stares "Yes you are. We have arranged for you to go stay with Liz"
"Your fucking joking" said Shandy "Im not goin up there".
Liz! Otherwise known as Elizabeth Street was Melbourne's most famed drag queen, she took centre stage at Pokies of a Sunday night for many years. These were the good old days, she was positively divalicious. But Liz fell on hard times, was unlucky in love and her "diva" position became increasingly threatend by younger "girls" on the rise. She took solace in the bottle and ultimately packed up and moved to Shepparton where she worked as a barmaid at the local RSL.
"You gotta be jokin, Im not stayin with that hasbin, uh uh no way" said Shandy
"Shuttt Uppp" said Iva firmly "Ive already had Margot pack you some clothes and we are going now"
Meanwhile Imelda was busy entertaining a gentleman caller whom she had flirted with earlier at at the Sassy Palms.
"Mmmmm darlingggg, that feel good, that nice. You like screw chick with dick yes, ooohhh"
Her mobile rang, she could make out the name on the screen, VERA. "Momement darling, me must take dis, just keep going. Vera, what you want honey, me errrr busy"
"You won't be happy, but Shandalier has was released, they have no hard evidence and, ummm, she ate nothing" replied Vera.
"Fuck, fuck fuck. You stupi bit, what we do now? Hmmmm, but they not know I involved, it ok. We still get rid of her, must have Sassy Palm cause business about to boom. Where she go darling"
"I have no idea, she left with 2 of those drag queens and they drove off"
"Well me have many much way to find out thing, leave to me darling, I see to her"
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Back to the Future
"Oh my good Mr Flynn, I can do many things and eat at the same time." Shandelier continued with the eye-batting. "Mmm, smells quite good." Actually it smelled like last week's horsemeat that'd been sitting out in the sun next to the Collingwood City Morgue, but Shandy was too ravenous to care. She picked up the battered spoon that lay next to the bowl, filled it with stew and brought it to her provocatively full lips. "So, what's on your mind...?"
Dirk leaned in, his Dior Eau Savage was really quite intoxicating, he put his hand over Shandelier's and was about to whisper something she thought would be meaningful, poignant and perhaps slightly raunchy into her ear.
Instead he pushed Shandy's fork down, "Don't eat this horseshit honey..."
Suddenly the door burst open and in swished Iva Biggun and Carmene. Iva Biggun was the star attraction at The Sassy Palms and Carmene the manager. Shandelier was torn between feeling overjoyed to see them and wanting to slap Iva's Paula Dorf Jazzed Cheek Coloured face for interrupting what could be a not half-bad evening if you took out the Vinegar-Tits dyke out the front and the putrid, bubbling stew in front of her .
Iva and Carmene had attempted to dress stylishly and conservatively for the visit but they were two of the best-known drag queens in town - subtle wasn't exactly in their wardrobe vocabulary. Iva had on a classic vintage Chanel tweed suit but she'd given it a well...slutty...twist by adding fishnets and thigh high patent leather imitation crocodile skin stilleto boots. Carmene on the other hand worked her usual colourful, slimline garb but thought she'd toned it down considerably by adding a June Salteresque Cameo to her neckline.
"Get your damn hands off her!" screamed Iva at Dirk.
Dirk pulled his hands away, momentarily flustered.
"Shit, I've always wanted to scream that, ever since that kooky Crispin Glover did it in Back to the Future", Iva said conversationally to Carmene.
"I loved those films, he really had that goofy thing working for him didn't he." Carmene agreed.
"Oh yes, I wonder what ever happened to him?" Iva mused.
Shandelier cleared her throat, "Ladeees - focus."
Iva and Carmene snapped back.
"Oh sorry Love, you ok?" Iva gave her a little pat on the back making sure she was pointing her perfectly symmetrical plunging neckline into Dirk's eyeline. This annoyed Shandelier, she'd been an early adapter when it came to implants and as a result she was more in the Tori Spelling category than the Angelina Jolie one.
"I'm fine, Dirk's been taking very good care of me." She reached for his hand and held it tightly, her Anna Sui (No 312) nails digging into Dirk's Armani suit, (he'd been a big fan of NYPD Blue - the Jimmy Smits era).
Carmene shook Dirk's hand, "Thank you soooo much Detective for looking after Shandelier but she'll need to come with us now. You see Morty Hempel, our very special friend, is holed up with the best legal team in town and as far as they can see - well you really have jack-shit on Shandelier. So we'll be off now, toodles."
Carmene, ever the professional, pulled a business card from her Vuitton Lockit, "But we'd be delighted to have you visit The Sassy Palms and have a slappertini on the house."
Carmene pulled Shandelier from the chair and steered her towards the door. Dirk was flabbergasted but they had the facts right. He had nothing to charge Shandelier with and to be perfectly honest he didn't want to. He could tell she was innocent of both the arson and murder, but these gals would be the key to unlocking the secrets of the crime and he wanted them on a short leash - maybe even a leather studded one with matching gimp mask? Whew, he pulled himself back into reality.
"Don't go too far, I'll be wanting to talk to you all at some stage," he called after them.
Iva swung around on her mock-crocs and headed back to Dirk, she moved in close and straightened his Gucci silk-tie.
"You know you really are quite an appetising long drink of water aren't you? Come and see the show sometime and I'll be sure to give you a backdoor tour." She winked suggestively.
Iva grabbed the pate of uneaten stew as she left the room. Vera Head was sitting right outside the door, desperately trying to hear every last word. Iva plonked the stew in Vera's lap.
"There you go Bullychops, have a free feed. It's probably the only meat you're ever going to get inside you in this lifetime."
Then Iva leant over and whispered in Vera's ear, "And you can tell your little yellow-stained friend in the transparent heels that we know what's going down - and it's HER."
Iva grabbed Carmene in one hand and Shandelier in the other and the three of them sashayed out of the police-station on their stilettos, cackling into the night.
Vera Head clutched the plate of poisoned plop in both hands, she wanted revenge alright, but it wasn't just Shandelier in her sights anymore - it was the WHOLE SASSY PALMS and everything in it.
The ladies piled into Carmene's car,
"Where are we going?" Shandelier asked.
Carmene looked at her in the rearview mirror, "WE are not going anywhere honey. YOU are getting away for awhile, somewhere far away..."
Dirk leaned in, his Dior Eau Savage was really quite intoxicating, he put his hand over Shandelier's and was about to whisper something she thought would be meaningful, poignant and perhaps slightly raunchy into her ear.
Instead he pushed Shandy's fork down, "Don't eat this horseshit honey..."
Suddenly the door burst open and in swished Iva Biggun and Carmene. Iva Biggun was the star attraction at The Sassy Palms and Carmene the manager. Shandelier was torn between feeling overjoyed to see them and wanting to slap Iva's Paula Dorf Jazzed Cheek Coloured face for interrupting what could be a not half-bad evening if you took out the Vinegar-Tits dyke out the front and the putrid, bubbling stew in front of her .
Iva and Carmene had attempted to dress stylishly and conservatively for the visit but they were two of the best-known drag queens in town - subtle wasn't exactly in their wardrobe vocabulary. Iva had on a classic vintage Chanel tweed suit but she'd given it a well...slutty...twist by adding fishnets and thigh high patent leather imitation crocodile skin stilleto boots. Carmene on the other hand worked her usual colourful, slimline garb but thought she'd toned it down considerably by adding a June Salteresque Cameo to her neckline.
"Get your damn hands off her!" screamed Iva at Dirk.
Dirk pulled his hands away, momentarily flustered.
"Shit, I've always wanted to scream that, ever since that kooky Crispin Glover did it in Back to the Future", Iva said conversationally to Carmene.
"I loved those films, he really had that goofy thing working for him didn't he." Carmene agreed.
"Oh yes, I wonder what ever happened to him?" Iva mused.
Shandelier cleared her throat, "Ladeees - focus."
Iva and Carmene snapped back.
"Oh sorry Love, you ok?" Iva gave her a little pat on the back making sure she was pointing her perfectly symmetrical plunging neckline into Dirk's eyeline. This annoyed Shandelier, she'd been an early adapter when it came to implants and as a result she was more in the Tori Spelling category than the Angelina Jolie one.
"I'm fine, Dirk's been taking very good care of me." She reached for his hand and held it tightly, her Anna Sui (No 312) nails digging into Dirk's Armani suit, (he'd been a big fan of NYPD Blue - the Jimmy Smits era).
Carmene shook Dirk's hand, "Thank you soooo much Detective for looking after Shandelier but she'll need to come with us now. You see Morty Hempel, our very special friend, is holed up with the best legal team in town and as far as they can see - well you really have jack-shit on Shandelier. So we'll be off now, toodles."
Carmene, ever the professional, pulled a business card from her Vuitton Lockit, "But we'd be delighted to have you visit The Sassy Palms and have a slappertini on the house."
Carmene pulled Shandelier from the chair and steered her towards the door. Dirk was flabbergasted but they had the facts right. He had nothing to charge Shandelier with and to be perfectly honest he didn't want to. He could tell she was innocent of both the arson and murder, but these gals would be the key to unlocking the secrets of the crime and he wanted them on a short leash - maybe even a leather studded one with matching gimp mask? Whew, he pulled himself back into reality.
"Don't go too far, I'll be wanting to talk to you all at some stage," he called after them.
Iva swung around on her mock-crocs and headed back to Dirk, she moved in close and straightened his Gucci silk-tie.
"You know you really are quite an appetising long drink of water aren't you? Come and see the show sometime and I'll be sure to give you a backdoor tour." She winked suggestively.
Iva grabbed the pate of uneaten stew as she left the room. Vera Head was sitting right outside the door, desperately trying to hear every last word. Iva plonked the stew in Vera's lap.
"There you go Bullychops, have a free feed. It's probably the only meat you're ever going to get inside you in this lifetime."
Then Iva leant over and whispered in Vera's ear, "And you can tell your little yellow-stained friend in the transparent heels that we know what's going down - and it's HER."
Iva grabbed Carmene in one hand and Shandelier in the other and the three of them sashayed out of the police-station on their stilettos, cackling into the night.
Vera Head clutched the plate of poisoned plop in both hands, she wanted revenge alright, but it wasn't just Shandelier in her sights anymore - it was the WHOLE SASSY PALMS and everything in it.
The ladies piled into Carmene's car,
"Where are we going?" Shandelier asked.
Carmene looked at her in the rearview mirror, "WE are not going anywhere honey. YOU are getting away for awhile, somewhere far away..."
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Eat My Beef
"Shut up with the buttering up," Imelda's caller snapped.
Imelda shifted on her trailer trash chaise lounge. "But as I 'member, darlingggg" she pouted, "you veddy fond of butter. And I no mean on your Vegemite toast darlingggg."
"Shut yer god-damned, collagened-up-the-ass trap. I don't have much time." Imelda's caller had dropped to a hoarse whisper.
"Speak to me darlingggg," Imelda purred. "Make Imelda happy and tell her that Missy Shandalier, she in duh clink."
"You'll be pleased to know that your plan worked like a witch's charm. She's here all right."
"Perrrfeeeect darlingggg." Imelda kicked off her vulva-pink plastic mules and stretched out like a 10-buck Hong Kong knock-off Eartha Kitt. "I knew my plan--"
But Imelda's caller cut her off. "Not so perfect."
Imelda did not like the smirk that laced her crop-haired informant's gravelly baritone voice. "What the fluck do you mean, darlingggg? What happen?"
"Dirk Flynn is what happened."
"Dirk Frynn? Who dat? Who dis Dirk Frynn?"
"Dirk is a six feet four smoldering pile of irresistible, hulking, hunking, muscley, musky manliness with a dash of Eau Sauvage...if you go in for that sort of thing. And from what I just saw, Miss Shandalier goes in for that sort of thing big time."
Imelda crossed over to her retro-60s Ikea bar and poured out some of that fake Scotch she nabbed the last time she was in Honkers buying her new tits. It was rough shit but it did the job. She slammed a gulp down her throat. "So darlingggg, what are you saying...?"
"Dirk Flynn is the best prober in the business. Give him ten minutes with Miss Fabulous in there and he'll have her on her knees begging him to let her give him more."
"Sounds rike a nice position to be in, if you ask me, darlingggg."
Imelda could hear her caller drag her thick sausage fingers through the spikes in her heavily-gelled hair. "Not more of that. I mean more information. I'm telling you - Flynn is like a walking lie detector test. He's going to know within the first five minutes that Shandalier is innocent and has no connection with the fire at Thai Me Up."
Imelda's lips - a mad mess of Maybelline - pouted again. "But what about Black Magic, darlingggg? That is the perfection of my plan. She was caught with a dead body in her bathroom. If we don't get her for arson, we get her for murder. Either way she's history, darlingggg, rather like your sensible shoe collection ought to be, but I fear it is not."
Imelda's partner-in-cahoots gave an earthy grunt. "From what I know of Miss Shandalier, she can wiggle out of anything. Except for maybe a Size Four. I say let's get her. Let's get her good."
Imelda slugged another mouthful of Honkers firewater down her gullet. "Just because she dumped your sweet little brother for some new meat in town--"
"She broke his heart! He was never the same after their backstage affair and I'll never forgive her. NEVER!"
Imelda sighed at these amateur dramatics. Honestly, do these dykes really think they can pull off high drama better than drag queens? Hardly. "So what do you suggest, darlingggg?"
"It's meal-time in 20 minutes. I could slip something into her beef stew. Couldn't be easier."
Imelda's eyes squinted down into sleazy slimey slopey slits. "Even better darlinggg: why don't you give the beef stew to Mr Frynn. He can take it into her. The poor bitch must be starving by now. He can play the White Knight and deliver the stew right into her mouth...as well as...well, whatever else..."
Imelda shifted on her trailer trash chaise lounge. "But as I 'member, darlingggg" she pouted, "you veddy fond of butter. And I no mean on your Vegemite toast darlingggg."
"Shut yer god-damned, collagened-up-the-ass trap. I don't have much time." Imelda's caller had dropped to a hoarse whisper.
"Speak to me darlingggg," Imelda purred. "Make Imelda happy and tell her that Missy Shandalier, she in duh clink."
"You'll be pleased to know that your plan worked like a witch's charm. She's here all right."
"Perrrfeeeect darlingggg." Imelda kicked off her vulva-pink plastic mules and stretched out like a 10-buck Hong Kong knock-off Eartha Kitt. "I knew my plan--"
But Imelda's caller cut her off. "Not so perfect."
Imelda did not like the smirk that laced her crop-haired informant's gravelly baritone voice. "What the fluck do you mean, darlingggg? What happen?"
"Dirk Flynn is what happened."
"Dirk Frynn? Who dat? Who dis Dirk Frynn?"
"Dirk is a six feet four smoldering pile of irresistible, hulking, hunking, muscley, musky manliness with a dash of Eau Sauvage...if you go in for that sort of thing. And from what I just saw, Miss Shandalier goes in for that sort of thing big time."
Imelda crossed over to her retro-60s Ikea bar and poured out some of that fake Scotch she nabbed the last time she was in Honkers buying her new tits. It was rough shit but it did the job. She slammed a gulp down her throat. "So darlingggg, what are you saying...?"
"Dirk Flynn is the best prober in the business. Give him ten minutes with Miss Fabulous in there and he'll have her on her knees begging him to let her give him more."
"Sounds rike a nice position to be in, if you ask me, darlingggg."
Imelda could hear her caller drag her thick sausage fingers through the spikes in her heavily-gelled hair. "Not more of that. I mean more information. I'm telling you - Flynn is like a walking lie detector test. He's going to know within the first five minutes that Shandalier is innocent and has no connection with the fire at Thai Me Up."
Imelda's lips - a mad mess of Maybelline - pouted again. "But what about Black Magic, darlingggg? That is the perfection of my plan. She was caught with a dead body in her bathroom. If we don't get her for arson, we get her for murder. Either way she's history, darlingggg, rather like your sensible shoe collection ought to be, but I fear it is not."
Imelda's partner-in-cahoots gave an earthy grunt. "From what I know of Miss Shandalier, she can wiggle out of anything. Except for maybe a Size Four. I say let's get her. Let's get her good."
Imelda slugged another mouthful of Honkers firewater down her gullet. "Just because she dumped your sweet little brother for some new meat in town--"
"She broke his heart! He was never the same after their backstage affair and I'll never forgive her. NEVER!"
Imelda sighed at these amateur dramatics. Honestly, do these dykes really think they can pull off high drama better than drag queens? Hardly. "So what do you suggest, darlingggg?"
"It's meal-time in 20 minutes. I could slip something into her beef stew. Couldn't be easier."
Imelda's eyes squinted down into sleazy slimey slopey slits. "Even better darlinggg: why don't you give the beef stew to Mr Frynn. He can take it into her. The poor bitch must be starving by now. He can play the White Knight and deliver the stew right into her mouth...as well as...well, whatever else..."
* * *
"Fuck I'm starving," Sandalier muttered to herself within the shadowy confines of Cell Block H. At least the lighting is low in here, she thought, I must look positively tragique. And with that divine Flynn creature within blowing distance, tragique is not the look I'm going for.
Just then the cell door swung open and in walked Dirk Flynn, in his meaty hands a tray and on the tray a large steaming bowl. "Why Mr. Flynn," Shandalier fluttered her two inch false eyelashes, "all that and you cook too?"
Flynn flashed her one of his disarmingly charm-laden smiles. That's not all I hope you'll be flashing me, she thought. "I thought you'd rather get it from me, rather than Vera Head," he said.
"Oh, you bet I would," she breathed in her best huskiness.
He laid the tray out in front of her. "I have some questions if you don't mind answering them you eat."
"Oh my good Mr Flynn, I can do many things and eat at the same time." Shandalier continued with the eye-batting. "Mmm, smells quite good." Actually it smelled like last week's horsemeat that's been sitting out in the sun next to the Collingwood City Morgue, but Shandy was too ravenous to care. She picked up the battered spoon that lay next to the bowl, filled it with stew and brought it to her provocatively full lips. "So, what's on your mind...?"
Just then the cell door swung open and in walked Dirk Flynn, in his meaty hands a tray and on the tray a large steaming bowl. "Why Mr. Flynn," Shandalier fluttered her two inch false eyelashes, "all that and you cook too?"
Flynn flashed her one of his disarmingly charm-laden smiles. That's not all I hope you'll be flashing me, she thought. "I thought you'd rather get it from me, rather than Vera Head," he said.
"Oh, you bet I would," she breathed in her best huskiness.
He laid the tray out in front of her. "I have some questions if you don't mind answering them you eat."
"Oh my good Mr Flynn, I can do many things and eat at the same time." Shandalier continued with the eye-batting. "Mmm, smells quite good." Actually it smelled like last week's horsemeat that's been sitting out in the sun next to the Collingwood City Morgue, but Shandy was too ravenous to care. She picked up the battered spoon that lay next to the bowl, filled it with stew and brought it to her provocatively full lips. "So, what's on your mind...?"
Monday, August 14, 2006
Jail Bait
"The last time" asked Thorne as he raised his perfectly shaped eyebrow.
"Yes, I had trouble some years back. Lets just say there was a misunderstanding with a business venture. To cut a long story short I was incarcerated for 6 months in a... and I use the word loosely... Ladee's Detention Centre. Vile and horrid place that it was, full of loathsome creatures. But I was inno-cent of the wrong doings they accused me of".
"Well" said Thorne "We are simply taking you in for questioning, Franklyn you too, we need to discuss the murder of the ummmm, lady in your bathroom .
"Your jumping to conclusions" snapped Shandy, neither of us have done anything.
Thorne grabbed Shandalier's arm to lead her to the doorway.
"Oh for fucks sake, alright, enough already" snapped Shandy as she grabbed for her Mandarina.
Later, at police headquarters. Shandalier waited in an interview room. Franklyn waited in another. She opened her bag, plucked out her dusky pink swarovski crystal encrusted mobile and hit auto dial.
"Excuse me Miss" said the female police officer in the room with her "You cannot make phone calls" Shandalier ignored her as Iva answered the call "Honey, where the hell are you, have you heard the news"
"Shhhh, I don't have time, get yourself and the girls down to police headquarters NOW, cause"
At that momement the phone was snatched from Shandy by the female police officer, Vera Head. She was a big boned lass, with cropped red hair and a face only a mother could love.
"Excussse meeeee" said Shandy "What the hell do you think your doin".
"I SAID NO PHONE CALLS"
"Well pardon moi CUNTstable, I do believe I am entitled to one phone call" replied Shandy.
"At our discretion and certainly not using this Barbie fashion accessory you call a phone"
"Hmph" said Shandy who was now reapplying her Guerlain Apricot Shimmer No 5.
Suddenly the door burst open, in walked Senior Detective Dirk Flynn. Shandy gasped under her breath as this striking figure of a man moved towards her. He was at least 6 foot 4, she guessed about 50, broad shouldered, well defined physique (which Shandy loved), greying hair and piercing blue eyes.
"Well Miss Wilson, what can you tell us about either the arson attack on Thai me Up or the murder of Rajan Shani Davidson"
"Who?.............Oh yo all talkin about Miss Black Magic, god rest her soul. Well Ive told all I know to those 2 detectives who came a calling to my loft at Rochelle House earlier this evening"
As Detective Dirk leaned in towards Shandy, she felt intoxicated by the distinct aroma of musky man sweat mixed with Dior Eau Savage (yes yes it made sense to Shandy, Sauvage being french for wild and untamed). "I think you need to open up for me, surely you have more to offer........in the way of information".
"Well Detective Dirk, never let it be said that I left a man unsatisfied" (she said fluttering dark luscious lashes framing her hazel flecked emerald green eyes).
Detective Dirk's concentration was broken, not only by Shandy's heaving decolletage but by the raucous commotion coming from the police reception area.
Thorne entered the room. "Sorry to disturb you Dectective Flynn, but its drag queen central out front and they're here to support her" pointing at Shandy.
"Well best we sort this drama out" replied Dirk.
Meanwhile......................In Imelda's boudoir. Imelda lay sprawled on her chaise lounge which was luridly upholstered in blood orange velour with gold flock. She smirked as she placed another hazelnut praline into her mouth. At that momement her phone rang.
"Hurro, who dis, OHHHHHH how youuuuuu darlingggg"
"Yes, I had trouble some years back. Lets just say there was a misunderstanding with a business venture. To cut a long story short I was incarcerated for 6 months in a... and I use the word loosely... Ladee's Detention Centre. Vile and horrid place that it was, full of loathsome creatures. But I was inno-cent of the wrong doings they accused me of".
"Well" said Thorne "We are simply taking you in for questioning, Franklyn you too, we need to discuss the murder of the ummmm, lady in your bathroom .
"Your jumping to conclusions" snapped Shandy, neither of us have done anything.
Thorne grabbed Shandalier's arm to lead her to the doorway.
"Oh for fucks sake, alright, enough already" snapped Shandy as she grabbed for her Mandarina.
Later, at police headquarters. Shandalier waited in an interview room. Franklyn waited in another. She opened her bag, plucked out her dusky pink swarovski crystal encrusted mobile and hit auto dial.
"Excuse me Miss" said the female police officer in the room with her "You cannot make phone calls" Shandalier ignored her as Iva answered the call "Honey, where the hell are you, have you heard the news"
"Shhhh, I don't have time, get yourself and the girls down to police headquarters NOW, cause"
At that momement the phone was snatched from Shandy by the female police officer, Vera Head. She was a big boned lass, with cropped red hair and a face only a mother could love.
"Excussse meeeee" said Shandy "What the hell do you think your doin".
"I SAID NO PHONE CALLS"
"Well pardon moi CUNTstable, I do believe I am entitled to one phone call" replied Shandy.
"At our discretion and certainly not using this Barbie fashion accessory you call a phone"
"Hmph" said Shandy who was now reapplying her Guerlain Apricot Shimmer No 5.
Suddenly the door burst open, in walked Senior Detective Dirk Flynn. Shandy gasped under her breath as this striking figure of a man moved towards her. He was at least 6 foot 4, she guessed about 50, broad shouldered, well defined physique (which Shandy loved), greying hair and piercing blue eyes.
"Well Miss Wilson, what can you tell us about either the arson attack on Thai me Up or the murder of Rajan Shani Davidson"
"Who?.............Oh yo all talkin about Miss Black Magic, god rest her soul. Well Ive told all I know to those 2 detectives who came a calling to my loft at Rochelle House earlier this evening"
As Detective Dirk leaned in towards Shandy, she felt intoxicated by the distinct aroma of musky man sweat mixed with Dior Eau Savage (yes yes it made sense to Shandy, Sauvage being french for wild and untamed). "I think you need to open up for me, surely you have more to offer........in the way of information".
"Well Detective Dirk, never let it be said that I left a man unsatisfied" (she said fluttering dark luscious lashes framing her hazel flecked emerald green eyes).
Detective Dirk's concentration was broken, not only by Shandy's heaving decolletage but by the raucous commotion coming from the police reception area.
Thorne entered the room. "Sorry to disturb you Dectective Flynn, but its drag queen central out front and they're here to support her" pointing at Shandy.
"Well best we sort this drama out" replied Dirk.
Meanwhile......................In Imelda's boudoir. Imelda lay sprawled on her chaise lounge which was luridly upholstered in blood orange velour with gold flock. She smirked as she placed another hazelnut praline into her mouth. At that momement her phone rang.
"Hurro, who dis, OHHHHHH how youuuuuu darlingggg"
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Princess Frostylocks' school of REALLY BAD ACTING
Franklyn’s sky blue eyes widened. “I…er…I…”
Shandalier walked over and slapped Franklyn across the face as hard as she could.
"Jesus Franklyn, what the fuck is wrong with you? What does mean and why the fuck do you keep saying it?"
Thorne was also staring at Franklyn with what he hoped was a look that was both superior and quizzical but in reality looked like he'd just taken a lesson in serious expression at the Lance Bass Princess Frostylocks' school of REALLY BAD ACTING.
"Yeah dude, you're always doing it. Have you got Tourette's or something?" Thorne muttered.
Shandalier didn't like Thorne's familiar tone.
"And just who the fuck ARE you?" she screamed at Thorne.
Thorne's cop toughness disappeared and his middle-class manners stepped in.
He extended his hand, "Excuse me m'aam, I'm Thor-"
"Oh SHUT UP! You think you're Thor. I just deep-throated this guy, I'll probably have lock-jaw for a week."
Shandalier couldn't take anymore, she'd just had a half Koorie/Pakistani murdered in her redecorated bathroom, been interrupted in a rather heated moment of intimacy before she could she-bop and now she was being accused of arson by a cop who obviously had some inside knowledge on her squeeze. She flung herself with as much grace and drama as she could onto her microsuede mushroom-toned sofa and began sobbing (carefully ensuring that none of her tears touched the fabric).
Franklyn rushed to her side. He wasn't the most faithful of partners when it came to sex (or same-sex for that matter) relationships - but Shandy was his boss, a friend and anyway - she just swallowed a quarter of a cup of his jizz - he owed her. Franklyn gently stroked Shandalier's back, trying to placate her.
Shandalier pleaded, "Tell them Franklyn, tell them. I don't know anything about Thai Me Up. I don't know anything about arson You've been here with me all night. You were with me out here when Black Magic had her thick dusky neck slit in my new bathroom...oh my new bathroom..." Shandalier's sobbing became more genuine as she thought of those Italian tiles, perhaps permanently stained with the blood that seeped from Black Magic's swarthy complexion. Shandalier tried to get it under control, past experience told her that she had ten minutes - tops - of the sobbing before they guys started getting jack of it.
Franklyn hushed her. "It's ok, I'll tell them everything. I'll tell you all the truth. I am very...um...familiar with Thai Me Up, I just finished rebuilding their website, among other things. I've been here for about thirty minutes. Before that I was down at Thai me Up, enjoying some of the...facilities. After I got here I heard Black Magic scream and when I went in her neck was slit, I didn't see anyone enter or exit the apartment and she was in there when I got here. I don't know what Shandalier was doing before I got here or how long she's been home."
Just then the forensic team walked in and Thorne moved back into tough-cop mode, "I think we've heard enough - you two are coming to the station with us now."
Shandalier became hysterical, "No, no, no you can't take me back there. Not after what happened last time."
Shandalier walked over and slapped Franklyn across the face as hard as she could.
"Jesus Franklyn, what the fuck is wrong with you? What does mean and why the fuck do you keep saying it?"
Thorne was also staring at Franklyn with what he hoped was a look that was both superior and quizzical but in reality looked like he'd just taken a lesson in serious expression at the Lance Bass Princess Frostylocks' school of REALLY BAD ACTING.
"Yeah dude, you're always doing it. Have you got Tourette's or something?" Thorne muttered.
Shandalier didn't like Thorne's familiar tone.
"And just who the fuck ARE you?" she screamed at Thorne.
Thorne's cop toughness disappeared and his middle-class manners stepped in.
He extended his hand, "Excuse me m'aam, I'm Thor-"
"Oh SHUT UP! You think you're Thor. I just deep-throated this guy, I'll probably have lock-jaw for a week."
Shandalier couldn't take anymore, she'd just had a half Koorie/Pakistani murdered in her redecorated bathroom, been interrupted in a rather heated moment of intimacy before she could she-bop and now she was being accused of arson by a cop who obviously had some inside knowledge on her squeeze. She flung herself with as much grace and drama as she could onto her microsuede mushroom-toned sofa and began sobbing (carefully ensuring that none of her tears touched the fabric).
Franklyn rushed to her side. He wasn't the most faithful of partners when it came to sex (or same-sex for that matter) relationships - but Shandy was his boss, a friend and anyway - she just swallowed a quarter of a cup of his jizz - he owed her. Franklyn gently stroked Shandalier's back, trying to placate her.
Shandalier pleaded, "Tell them Franklyn, tell them. I don't know anything about Thai Me Up. I don't know anything about arson You've been here with me all night. You were with me out here when Black Magic had her thick dusky neck slit in my new bathroom...oh my new bathroom..." Shandalier's sobbing became more genuine as she thought of those Italian tiles, perhaps permanently stained with the blood that seeped from Black Magic's swarthy complexion. Shandalier tried to get it under control, past experience told her that she had ten minutes - tops - of the sobbing before they guys started getting jack of it.
Franklyn hushed her. "It's ok, I'll tell them everything. I'll tell you all the truth. I am very...um...familiar with Thai Me Up, I just finished rebuilding their website, among other things. I've been here for about thirty minutes. Before that I was down at Thai me Up, enjoying some of the...facilities. After I got here I heard Black Magic scream and when I went in her neck was slit, I didn't see anyone enter or exit the apartment and she was in there when I got here. I don't know what Shandalier was doing before I got here or how long she's been home."
Just then the forensic team walked in and Thorne moved back into tough-cop mode, "I think we've heard enough - you two are coming to the station with us now."
Shandalier became hysterical, "No, no, no you can't take me back there. Not after what happened last time."
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Burn, Baby, Burn
Shandalier wiped a deliciously gooey dribble from the corner of her mouth as she approached her front door. She stopped at the wall mirror to check her lipstick and picked up the emergency one she always left there (the Shiseido Autumn-in-Kyoto red semi-gloss that went so fabulously with her new ruby grapefruit cocktail frock she nabbed up at No Ho Zone on Greville Street) and executed an expert repair job. As a second knock re-announced her visitors, she swung open the door in dramatic, Joan Crawford style and found, standing there in front of her like a couple of Roman gods, two enormous policemen with bouncing bulges sculpted in all the right places. If only they had arrived here ten minutes ago…
“Thank god you’re here,” she told them. They exchanged a quick, puzzling look but Shandy dismissed it. “Come in, come in,” she bade them.
The two tightly-uniformed men hesitated, then walked into Shandy’s foyer and she closed the door. “You were expecting us?” the taller one with square jaw and buzz-cut blonde hair asked.
“Why of course,” Shandalier replied, drinking in the guy's impressive biceps that swelled so deliciously under his shirt sleeves.
The second policeman, all jet black hair and smoldering Heathcliff eyes, frowned. “So you’re ready to confess?”
Shandy’s hands flew to her throat. “Confess? Are you both insane?” As well as insanely handsome, she thought. “I was out here when that tacky little drag queen got her throat slashed.” She pointed to the bathroom. “And I have a witness. Now, would we please do something about the body? It’s bleeding all over my sea-foam green Milano tiles and you have no idea how much it’s going to set me back to get them all re-grouted. Wait till you see them. They’re such a startling shade of green, quite unlike—”
“There is a dead body in your bathroom?” Blondey asked.
Something was very wrong here and Shandalier didn’t at all like the feeling that started to envelope her like a cheap and scratchy, acrylic shawl. “I’m sorry but why else would you two gentlemen be here?”
Blondey puffed out his substantial chest. “Ma’am, we are here to arrest you for burning down the Thai Me Up nightclub.”
“WHAT?” Shandalier gasped. “That’s ridiculous. I—I—I was nowhere near—”
“Hello Thorne.”
All three of them turned to find Franklyn standing in the doorway of the bathroom, his legs spread apart and his thick, bulging arms crossed against his own substantial chest.
“Franklyn!” the blond policemen blurted out.
“You know my director of security?” Shandalier asked. Well now, this was a delightfully handy turn of events that Shandalier could see might have to come in useful.
Franklyn and Blondey exchanged a searing look. “What are you doing here?” Blondey asked.
Frankly crossed the room and stood by Shandy’s side. “You have my word,” he said, “that Miss Shandalier was nowhere near Thai Me Up this evening. She was with me.”
“I’m sorry Franklyn, but we have evidence linking her to the arson attack.”
“Then it was fabricated!” Shandy broke in. “Clearly there’s no possible way that—”
“Ms. Wilson,” the dark policeman interrupted her with a force that get a girl going. “Your fingerprints were found on the watering can that was used to douse the club with petrol.”
“Watering can? What watering can? I don’t even have a watering can!" Shandalier was losing all patience now and she jammed her hands on her enviably slim hips. " Oh, this is all becoming such a laughable farce. Really, you don't understand. There is a plane to Boca Raton with my name on it and I really must insist...oh...oh, dear...”
Suddenly it came back to her. Imelda appeared one day last week at Shandalier’s dressing room door with two watering cans in hand. “Prease Miss Shandalrear,” she’d begged, “which one you rike? I buy plesent for fliend but me no decide.” Into Shandalier’s left hand she shoved an ornately decorated watering can of gold and burned sienna, and in the other a tacky plastic green one. Why that little witch! Now her fingerprints were all over both of those revolting cans.
“This watering can,” she said, “was it all gold and burned sienna, with little carvings of angels and demons on the side...?”
Blondey and Heathcliff exchanged another look. Blondey took out his handcuffs, and not the fluffy pink ones that Shandalier usually preferred. “Miss Shandalier Wilson, I am placing you under arrest for arson. And,” he added, "suspected murder." Shandalier felt the cold metal of the hand cuffs grip her delicate wrists. Really, these things weren’t nearly as comfy as the ones in her bedside table.
“Stop, Thorne. You’re making a huge mistake,” Franklyn told Blondey.
“Can you swear that you were with this woman all night?” Thorne demanded. “Can you Franklyn? Have you been by her side every single minute of this entire evening?”
Franklyn’s sky blue eyes widened. “I…er…I…”
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