A Bitch Slap Away
The Continuing Adventures of Ineeda Willingbottom
by Jak Klinikowski
Let Jak know what you thought of this installment!
“What? What is it?” Ineeda fumbled with the aqua-princess receiver. “God what do you want? Do you know what time it is? No, really do you know?”
“You sniveling primadonna! Are you still in bed? You are such a sorry bitch. It’s nearly three,” Hortence told her groggy, friend. “You are not a real woman, so quit acting like one. Get your lazy butt up.”
“Why should I get up?” Ineeda growled. “The world has it out for me. Damn place is full of demons, demons I tell you, vicious little gutter trolls with telephones! Ring any bells, girlfriend? I totally hate you! I was having such a fabulous dream, simply fabulous. Now it’s ruined.”
“I suppose Ronnie was starring in this fabu dream of yours. Dear departed Ronnie, begging your forgiveness, and ready to sweep you away to Happy Ever After Land on his rock-hard pink charger, promising to love you forever and ever.”
“No, you stinking slut--well not exactly--there was no horse. Anyway, the contents of my dreams are none of your business, Hortence. What is it you want?”
“I’m calling about Billy’s birthday party, you absent-minded drag queen. Have you forgotten Billy’s bash? The party’s tonight.”
“Who cares? I know I certainly don’t. I couldn’t possibly attend a party. I’m not ready to face my public, and besides I haven’t a thing to wear.”
“Oh pahhh lezzzz, you have three stuffed walk-in closets, you self-centered crybaby, and if you can face a mirror, as I’m sure you’re doing right now, you can face anything.” Ineeda put down the vanity mirror that she kept on the pillow next to her. “So you get your sagging fanny out of that bed right now, or I’m coming over there and dragging you out by your snow-white roots.”
“My goodness,” said Ineeda. “Who died and made you Joan Rivers? Cause God wouldn’t talk to me that way.” Ineeda sighed as she lowered her feet into her pink satin slippers. “Okay, Okay, I’m up. Are you happy now?”
“That’s more like it. You know it would devastate poor Billy if you missed his soiree.”
“I suppose you’re right, Hortence. Billy’s one of my most loyal and devoted fans.”
“You better watch it, doll. Your head’s becoming as big as your caboose. I suggest you slow down your ego or none of your wigs are gonna fit.”
“Listen, Hortence,” Ineeda snapped, “if all you’re gonna do is insult me I’ll climb right back into bed, and you can go to the party by your miserable bitter self.”
“All right, you over-sensitive shrew, this ain’t Broadway. You can ditch the drama. Listen up, your majesty. I’ll be there to pick you up at seven and I expect you to be ready.”
“You can get here whenever you like, but I’ll be ready when I’m ready. You got that, Hortence?”
“Just make the effort, Ineeda, please. It would be nice if we could get there before midnight this year.”
“We’ll see what we can do, ta ta now dear.” Ineeda abruptly hung up the phone. She dearly loved Hortence, but the cow was working her last good nerve.
Ineeda inspected the marabou feathers on her slippers and headed for the kitchen to fetch a diet Pepsi. Tonight would be her first social appearance since Ronnie had taken off for Las Vegas. There was no denying it; she really fell for that handsome stripper. Ineeda smiled to herself, remembering all the delightful, hot private dancing Ronnie had done for her during their brief, passionate affair. She knew better than to get hung up on a guy like that, but she had always been a sucker for a big, dumb, broad-shouldered looker with a great big bubble butt. God knows Ronnie met all her requirements, especially from behind. He said he loved her, but he needed to take his career to the next level. Jesus! He actually thought of stripping as a career, to hell with the muscle-bound bastard.
“Time to move on,” Ineeda told herself. She was not going to waste one more crocodile tear. Ineeda had pulled herself out of plenty of romantic setbacks before, and, by damn, she could certainly do it again.
Ineeda knew it was high time to return to her public. As mistress of ceremonies for the drag extravaganzas at the Cha Cha Palace, she had simply oodles of fans. Fans would cheer her up if she gave them half a chance. Ah, what power she felt, microphone in hand, dishing the pathetic wannabes, and selectively praising those few deserving impersonators with talent. She had allowed Hortence to cover the shows for her, but it was time for Ineeda to make a comeback.
“I may have a fat ass,” crowed Ineeda, “but I love how they line up to kiss it!” She just wished it was Ronnie doing the kissing.
“That’s enough of that,” Ineeda scolded herself. “I am a star, and it’s about time I started acting like one, my public expects nothing less of me!” She decided the full treatment was in order. A little pampering--okay, a lot of pampering--was what she needed, starting with a viciously decadent bubble bath. Ineeda was already beginning to feel better. She was finally regaining her old self-confidence after a couple of shaky weeks. “Ronnie’s loss is some divine boy’s gain,” she announced defiantly.
Ineeda strutted to the bathroom, turned on the water, and began to fill the tub. “Well, you’re not exactly a debutante anymore,” she informed her reflection in the full-length mirror on the door, “but you still look a truck-load better than that hag Hortence.” Ineeda felt like her old self again, and she was ready to tear up the town. She hummed the disco standard, “It’s Raining Men,” as she poured the bubble bath into her waiting tub. Ineeda decided on her new royal-purple, sheered-velvet gown. It was the perfect attention-getter for a party. She would be the Queen of all she surveyed.
“I’m back, I’m baaaacck,” she purred as she picked
up her pussy, Pity Pat. “Your Momma’s gonna knock um dead tonight,
darlin. All those foul bitches better watch their step…Now, Pity, I
have to shave my legs. Do you think I have time to give myself a
pedicure?”To be continued...