Mummer’s Day

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Mouse Montgomery was sitting at the bar at Triangles, engaging in one of her favorite pastimes, chatting and ogling barmaid Sharon Patterson. Mouse was a petite girl, three years out of drama school, with a slim body, and short, heavily curled brown hair parted on the left. Her real name was Mallory, but people called her Mouse because she was shy, with mousey brown hair and very small, less than five feet and maybe ninety pounds soaking wet. She was cute in her way, but besides her stature what most people noticed most about her were the thick, coke-bottle lensed glasses that rested on her nose. Mouse favored loose sweaters, jeans, or corduroys that were sized for comfort. She was a drama major who had found work off-Broadway as a costumer and set designer and had gotten some nibbles on Broadway, but so far she made her living as a temp. She dreamed of working on Broadway, and especially of becoming a playwright herself. But it’s hard to write a play at a bar, which Triangles very much was. More importantly, Triangles employed Sharon, a shapely butch with beautiful tattoos, a taste for leather and low-cut tops, short dark hair, plenty of piercings, and dark, beautiful eyes, and whom Mouse swooned over whenever Sharon came anywhere nearby.Sharon was friendly to Mouse in a seemingly professional way. Sometimes they exchanged a few sentences as drinks and sandwiches were provided, in between the washing of glasses and the other tasks that a good bartender sees to every instant when which they are not dealing with actual customers, serving or making drinks. Once in a while, Sharon even smiled at Mouse, which sent tingles through the smaller woman’s body. Mouse liked to sit next to Charlie, an old regular whom some said had occupied the same bar stool since Triangles had opened way-back-when. Charlie was full of stories from decades of work as a foreign photojournalist. By sitting next to Charlie, Mouse killed two birds with one stone. She could catch frequent glances at Sharon, and attempt to catch the eye of their enticing bartender. In between Mouse’s attempted flirtations, Charlie would regale her with a lifetime of stories of war, peace, and the many men he had bedded. Tonight, Charlie was waxing over his conquests, sipping malt whiskey and telling her of the Bedouin he had an affair with sometime around 1970. “I tell you, he had a bent cock and I fell in love with him the moment he rammed me in the prostate!” He grinned and tapped his glass to her margarita, and they laughed and sipped together.“You know, Mouse, I can’t understand why a pretty young girl like you spends so much time with a dying old faggot like me, when the room has so many beautiful women for you to seduce. Like Sharon here,” he said, in his lovely English accent, pushing his now-empty tumbler the barmaid’s way.“You want another, Charlie,” Sharon said, with a smile, before turning Mouse’s way. “Want anything, Mouse?”Mouse inspected her margarita, still half full. Her purse wasn’t very heavy at the moment. Her next show wouldn’t start until after the New Year, and while temping paid the bills, it did not overpay them. But she couldn’t help but turn a delighted smile and a tilt of her head Sharon’s way. “Not quite yet,” she said, with a grin, as the barmaid’s eyes flashed in the passing car lights. Sharon was an actress, who sometimes worked off-Broadway, though Mouse hadn’t worked with her yet. She was praying for the day she got to do a fitting.“Oh, bring our lovely Mouse another,” said Charlie with a pat on Mouse’s shoulder. “I can afford it, and after all, I can’t take it with me. And I can afford to be generous as my last Christmas approaches.” One of the reasons not so many people sat with Charlie these days was because it was clear that this year’s Holiday would be Charlie’s last. He’d once sported a full beard, but the hair that had once covered his head, face, eyebrows, ears, and presumably places lower was all gone. His skin was thin and he’d shrunk to a near skeleton. Mouse knew Charlie couldn’t stay late anymore. Soon his partner Dale would come for him, if for no other reason than the small oxygen bottle almanbahis at his side wouldn’t last forever. Mouse had a hard time accepting the inevitable, but Charlie did not. Once he’d said, “I survived five wars, HIV and one crazy ex-boyfriend only to fall victim to Marlboro’s.” Charlie didn’t smoke anymore, but he’d smoked plenty in the past and made no excuses.“Thank you, Charlie,” she said, turning to watch Sharon walk toward the liquor, admiring her backside with great pleasure.“Oh, watching that look on your eye makes it worth it. Reminds me of May back in the Stonewall Days when I caught sight of a strapping young lad. I was quite the charmer in my day.”She smiled. “You still are, and were I straight, I’d give you a tumble.”He laughed. “And were I still young and fit I’d grant you my first heterosexual salvo in many a decade. You’re a prize in your own way, Mouse, you just can’t see it through those thick lenses.”“So keep up the flattery, particularly when Sharon comes back.”“Is she who you want for Christmas?” he said.Mouse sighed. And watched Sharon’s lovely back arch as she scrubbed out glasses. “No elf could make Sharon.”“Say no more,” he said. “I can admit when my competition has won.”Mouse shrugged. “There’s no competition,” she said. “Tell me, Charlie, what’s the best part of the Holidays for you?”He shrugged and smiled when Sharon returned with their drinks. “You’d just think me an old fool.”“No, I wouldn’t!” Mouse seemed a bit hurt at the suggestion.“Well, I’ll tell you,” he said. “What I miss the most about this time of year is the Mummers.”“Mummers?” she asked. “This bar is full of people on and off-Broadway. Including me.”“Including the lovely Sharon,” he noted. “But you see that’s not what I mean. Back when I was a wee lad in Cardiff, for the holidays we had troupes of Mummers come around and perform small plays. They were amateurs, not like this lot. Ordinary folk dressed up and put on little plays in the streets or in the pubs. Silly things with amateur costumes. Sometimes you’d get St. George versus the Dragon, with a doctor to resurrect the slain.”“You resurrect the dragon?” Mouse asked, with a grin, her eyes for the moment not on Sharon.Charlie feigned shock. “You can’t have killing at Christmas! We’re not barbarians after all.”“Okay, okay,” she said, noting Charlie’s husband Dale coming through the door with Charlie’s wheelchair in front.“Time to go, old man,” said Dale with a grin. He was a bit younger than Charlie but hardly young with a balding head and skin the color of a Mound’s bar.“Oh, you barbarian,” Charlie said. “Dale, sit down and have a drink. I was just explaining to Mouse here what Mummers were.”“Still are,” said Dale, a high-school English teacher. “Alright, I’ll have one with you and Mouse. Just one. You need your rest!”“I’ll tell you what I need,” said Charlie, reaching around to squeeze his man’s bottom.“When we’re home,” said Dale, with a twinkle. Everyone knew nothing would happen. Charlie’s spirit made promises his cancerous flesh could no longer fill. Soon Dale helped Charlie into his chair, and he left with his oxygen and cane on his lap.Mouse watched him go and then motioned Sharon over.“What’cha need,” she said, with her typical lovely smile.“If I wrote a short holiday play for Charlie to put on here, would you be in it?”Sharon bent her head, with a quizzical look on her face. “Sure. What kind of a role would you have me play?”“I was thinking St. George.”“Like with the dragon?”“Yep. With a twist.”“Sure. Are you thinking of putting it on for the Christmas Party?”“I am.”“Well, so long as I get top billing,” she said, winked at Mouse, and headed off for her next paying customer.Mouse looked around the room. A lot of theater people drank at Triangles, not all of whom were gay. Robbie did makeup on Broadway. Betty and Jan had worked as Rockettes. John had just finished a run of “Vampire Lesbians of Sodom”. Peter did costumes, like her. She realized she could put on a small play just using regulars. She got up and started making inquiries of people she knew liked Charlie. No one said no. Not if it was for Charlie. Plus, she’d get to do almanbahis yeni giriş something with Sharon. Mouse settled up her bill and headed out the door. She had a play to write.The next few weeks, Mouse didn’t spend a lot of time at Triangles. Shew was too busy writing and polishing her script, handing it out scripts to her cast members, letting them know the costumes she had in mind, and began sewing a cape for Sharon. What worried her was Charlie had been scarce too. She’d known this was coming, but still dreaded his decline and hoped he would make the party. So she focused on her cast and crew. She told them not to take the play too seriously, that this was just for fun. And she had fun writing it. Sharon’s eyes got big and she shook her head when she finally read the script. “Finally, I get to play the hero.”“Think Charlie will like it?”“Like it? That dirty old man will love it! I just wonder how many of the cast will be able to keep a straight face until the end…”“I’m counting on you Sharon,” said Mouse, hopeful, afraid she’d gone too far.Sharon laughed. “You only live once, and I’ve always wanted to play a knight. About time King Arthur integrated.”John laughed his head off and agreed the moment he saw his part. Robbie was a thin man of thirty, who did a lot of makeup. His jaw dropped when he told him what she had in mind.“You’re kidding me.”“Robbie, I’m serious.”“Like living dangerously, don’t you?” He kind of rolled his eyes.“I never live dangerously. That’s the point.”Robbie rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “I’ll do it. The makeup will take a couple of hours to do. We can do it in the storeroom downstairs at Triangles. It used to be a speakeasy. I’ll bring the makeup and whatever else we need.”“I know about the place and hatches in the main floor. I’m using them in the play.” Mouse leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Your part in this may be the most important.”“Somehow, I don’t think so,” he said. “But no one will forget it.”Triangles closed on the 19th for its annual holiday party. Staff only, and a small, select group of patrons, including Charlie and Dale, to whom Mouse had delivered an engraved invitation. The owner Zizi arrived early to let them in, so Robbie could go to work on Mouse’s makeup. Mouse arrived carrying a bag with her bathrobe and began to undress. John set up his lights and got to work. “Glasses on or off?”“I need to see.” Mouse replied. “Besides we’re in Brooklyn, not Broadway.”“Okay, he said. “Honestly, I think you’ll look better that way, at least for this play.By six, Robbie was just polishing up and Mouse wore her bathrobe as the cast started showing up. John started donning his costume, laughing the entire time. Mouse grinned at him in her long flannel bathrobe.“Wow, you really went all out,” he said.“It’s for Charlie,” Mouse replied. “And so did you,” she added when she saw the costume he’d brought.“Who just got here with Dale,” said Zizi. Which was a good thing, because he hadn’t been in for most of a week, a bad sign.Zizi played emcee that night and had gotten into the spirit of it. She was a well-shaped middle-aged woman with short red hair and had chosen a tuxedo top with leather panties and lace stockings and heels as her bottom, topped by a Santa hat. She looked really good in it too. “I set up a webcam so those of you downstairs can watch the proceedings. Any last-minute instructions, Mouse?”“Make sure that when the fight scene climaxes you’re above the floor hatch, John. Knock three times when you’re ready for me to open it from below. And Sharon, please make sure the blanket covers the whole opening.“I can do that,” Sharon said with a giggle. She’d been surprised to see Mouse’s makeup and was still looking.“Okay, Zizi first, then the chorus. Mouse began to give everyone their last-minute instructions.“Got it, Director Mouse,” said Sharon. She was in her costume holding the Crusader’s cape Mouse had made for her, along with the harness Mouse provided. And Sharon had gone all out as well wearing pure white, as was appropriate for the heroine.“Places people,” Mouse said. “It’s showtime.”The jukebox shut down and Zizi ascended almanbahis giriş the stairs. We all crowded around the monitor and the speaker so we could see and hear. She strode to the center of the room with the script Mouse had given her in her hand. “Hear ye, hear ye, all assembled, be thee ready now for the first play of the Triangle Bar Mummer’s Society for our first annual presentation of Saint Dyke versus the Dragon!They heard guffaws from above, clapping and best of all, Mouse heard Charlie laughing.She pointed at the Chorus. They must have had some tap experience for the four of them marched up the stairs and out on the floor in perfect time. They stood by the bar, the two chorus girls showing a lot of leg and the two men faking showgirl moves poorly, which lead to more laughs.Once in place the chorus began to sing:”We’re here to sing a terrible tale,That will shock your heart and leave you pale.A tale of a dragon with a big, big nail,Who deflowers virgins from our wooded vale.”“Sounds like somebody rehearsed,” Mouse said, kind of in awe.“We’ve done this before,” said John, with a grin as he closed up his dragon suit. It was a pro costume, even though she’d told everyone the play was for fun. She supposed that’s what you got when you cast real theater people in important roles.“Where’d you get that?” she asked.“Borrowed it from a theatrical supply house. Nice makeup. Did you have Robbie do it?”“I’m right here,” Robbie said. “I spent a couple of hours on Mouse.”“It shows,” said John. “Can’t wait to see the rest of you.” John was quite straight, and happily ogled every pretty woman in the bar. It was the first night Mouse had thought he might ogle her.“Enter our virgin!” cried Zizi. Andi was their virgin, local drag queen and as drag queens do, had gone all out with a tight dress and enormous falsies, and she held a bouquet of daffodils in hur hand. Hur makeup was excessive, which was perfect, and she shook hur money-maker all the way across to sing.”Oh, look at me,Such a lovely virgin,The boys send me bonbons,But I treat them like they’re sturgeon.My boobs they are pokeyand my bottom is tight!Boys don’t get hasty,because I’m being good tonight!”The room laughed hard at that because Andi was not known for hur chastity. Robby started beating on a barrel, simulating heavy footsteps. People booed playfully as Bob stepped into the room, realizing a villain when they saw one. John had done as Mouse asked and installed an enormous inflatable phallus, which jutted from his waist. He held it up and thrust his hips as he circled.”I’m the Dragon Patriarch!I am your male MonarchEven tougher than the BismarckI am your Patriarch!I am the Top Quark,I kneel for no woman,Not even Emilia Clark!My breath is all fire,My farts much the same,Give me that vir-gin!Or all you’ll know is pain!”With this, the Chorus began to feign panic and ran in circles, hands around the mouths to feign panic.”Oh, what an utter catastrophe?An outright tragedyAs our virgin becomes a casualtyOf the dragon’s evil majesty!”Andi pretended to go faint and leaned against the wall, legs crossed in an over-acted swoon before singing,”Oh, oh no, oh my aching heart,To die for a dragon,Because my legs never part!But that leads to a question?And the answer quite obscureWhy should the patriarchy,Care if my pussy’s pure?Should I have racedto hold my legs widespread?Should I have invited,The Boy Scouts to my bed?”“You mean you haven’t,” cried someone from the crowd, followed by laughter. Which made sense as Andi was playing a really slutty virgin.The Chorus took over then,”We need some crusading,If we’re to save our maiden,We need a knight!To keep her pussy tight!But where, o where,Would such a savior come?One look at the dragon,And I myself would run!”The chorus began to repeat.Zizi then skipped around the room in a circle banging coconuts together to simulate hooves Monty Python-style, which was Sharon’s cue to take the room. Mouse had made her a pure white Crusader cape, complete with a big red female glyph. Sharon hadn’t let it lie with just a cape. She wore an eye-catching white bustier and leather panties that made Mouse coo audibly when she saw her favorite bartender. Sharon had finished off her outfit with black wrestler’s boots and an enormous red strap-on projecting from her harness.”I am Saint Dyke!It’s girls that I like,Slut or virgin, I don’t care.

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