At The Paris Gay
Pride 4
by Albert Russo
“How about a double
scoop of fudge and banana ice cream with
chocolate chips from Hog'n Douche? Or mint,
vanilla and strawberry, for a change? Wouldn't
you like that, sweetie?”
My uncle thought I didn't
want any ice cream at all, which made me even
furiouser. To be raving mad at someone is no
picnic, coz you mull things over, groan and rant
and shut up at the same time, not to appear lewd-i-crass,
then people around you get so scared they
understand the opposite of what you mean.
I was craving for it so
much that I began to drool like an old slob,
feeling the mix of spittle and sweat drip along
my chops like it was too disgusting for words,
and on top of it all I was tickled to death - it's
not funny, you ninny! - but I couldn't say
anything coz my jaws were locked as tight as a
pair of rusty screws, which gave me an
unconscious headache.
I slowly walked towards the
Hog'n Douche ice cream parlor and looked around
as if I was expecting somebody - not a baby, you
nerd! - while still ignoring my uncle.
Then suddenly a guy, all
knuckles and bones, with a pony tail, approached
me and asked, in a moronic sing song: “How
nice to be waiiiting for me, daaarling? I really
appreciate it.”
Who the heck did he think
he was? That's when I finally opened my big and
by now very sore mouth and told him to get lost,
instead of which he pushed the door of Hog'n
Douche open... to let me in, giggling like a
three-faced baboon with a donkey's tail.
Without uddering a word,
Unky Berky went and bought me a huge ice cream
cone with three of my most favored-nations
flavors (banana republic, straordinary English
berry and American fudge).
After that, we rode back
home, in silence, coz I don't forgive so easily,
even when the person makes an extra effort to be
nice. I ain't a pup or a doll, and neither am I
the good Samaritan - you already know that -, for
I need to think things over for a while.
You can't imagine the
unconscious amount of time I had to spend
cleaning away my make-up, and there was so little
of it too. For the nail polish it was even worse.
And that stain remover you have to use, yuck, it
makes you feel like an alcoholic anomalous, it
smells so bad.
The Gay Pride reminded me
of Eurodisney, essept for the bare asses, coz
there were some beautiful charriots with lots of
garlands, sofistickle papier-mâché figures and
stuff, plus dozens of bands, and pompom boys,
some of them incredibly pretty. There were
quazark no girls - if you don’t count the
dragabushkins and some dromagenous types that
could pass for either boys or girls.
From
the GOSH ZAPINETTE! series (15 episodes in all)
8/9//21 Excerpted from Zapinette in Gay Paree, by
Albert Russo.
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