There She Goes Again on Her Own

[Half of the Ripcord regulars are in New Orleans for Southern Decadence, and the other half are in Dallas for ILSb-ICCB, but the bar is packed anyway with heavy drinkers who normally frequent other establishments in the area. Carlisle and my Misfit brother Mike have both dropped in to say hello, and the three of us are merrily jabbering away between transactions, when a straight girl floats dreamily into the store and starts squealing with delight at the merchandise.]

Straight Girl: “Oh my God, I love these shirrrrrts!” [The squeals go up an octave. Outside, several hundred disoriented bats crash into the side of the building.]

Mike: “Okay, seriously, how can you stand that?”

Me: “Eh. You get used to it after a while.”

Straight Girl: [to me] “Hey. Heeeyyyyy.”

Me: “Yes?”

Straight Girl: [gesturing to a T-shirt that reads, ‘Bearded For His Pleasure’] “Can I have this changed?”

Me: “To what?”

Straight Girl: “It needs to say ‘Bearded For Her Pleasure.'”

Me, Mike and Carlisle: “…”

Straight Girl: [stretching herself across the back counter and writhing about like she’s on the hood of a Corvette in an 80s hair band video] “Because I’m a herrrrr.”

Me: “No, it needs to say ‘his’, BECAUSE THIS IS A GAY BAR.”

[She stops gyrating and stares at me, then makes a pouty face and stomps out. For a few brief moments, the store is blissfully silent.]

Carlisle: “I’d like to shake your hand.”

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