By Madama Mama

Once, a long, long time ago, in the merry queendom of Transformania, far away from the dreaded land of lurking closets and other assorted sexual genders, lived a fabulous fairy; Queen Aphrodisiac. He was a wonderful fairy who pampered his little stick people and held weekly banquets. The happy subjects sang and danced far into the night.

However, Queen Aphro was not happy. A prudent messenger from Prissy had prattled the woeful tale that along Transformania’s extensive borders were hibernators who were not showing their true colors and gravitating toward the closet and into the unspeakable fairyless realm beyond. After much brooding and consultation with his fashion experts, Queen Aphrodisiac announced a decree. “Bring me all the gay, untransformed faggots and I will make them into flaming drag queens.” Swiftly his fairy guard moved out into the lavender limits beyond no man’s land, searching among the hetero heretics for straying gays to bring to the queen.

Among these noble guardians of the fairy hierarchy was a properly frivolous dandy by the name of Herma Aphrodite. Herma was uncommonly attached to the Queen who was his namesake and distant relative. When he heard the decree, Herma immediately sought audience with his auntie fairy, and offered his services as perpetrator of the undiscovered closets. Queen Aphrodisiac was pleased to see his favorite godchild surrender all selfish ambitions for this great crusade to return the transgressing erotica to the flowering folds.

Queen Aphrodisiac invited Herma Aphrodite into his parlor for a serious discussion on the strategies of entering fairyless environments. “I feel there will be difficulties,” he sighed. “It could easily be a closed affair. If you discover negotiations are faltering, remember, a little butter goes a long ways.”

“My queen,” swore Herma, “I shall put out every effort to drive home my point of filial obligations. I will pave the way with honey. I will not withdraw until I have acquired the jewels of the deepest closets.”

The lissome queen held up a languid hand. “I have a special mission for you. Our scouts have discovered there are eighty transient gays around the world. All but one have been identified and are currently being chaperoned to a special ferry, The Transcendental Sea Nymph. Once we have collected all eighty gays, the Sea Nymph will transport our frolicking fraternity back into the fairy queendom. I need, you, my dear Herma, to find our last unfortunate, transpiring gay, and bring him back into the fold. If you succeed, I will wave my magic wand and make you a real girl.”

Harboring the promises of the languishing fairy, Herma Aphrodite left the beloved queendom in search of the final, frivolous faggot. While passing through a field of pansies, he overheard the conversation of two narcissistic namby-pambys. “I say,” said the one. “I saw a queer sight over in Rosewood Villa.”
“Eh,” said the other. “I tell you, I saw a bloomin’ queer sight over in Rosewood Villa, a sight so queer it would make both cheeks blush.”

Herma waited to hear no more. Surely Rosewood was the location of the unlit fag. He hurried on his way to the Villa. It was late in the evening when he arrived at his destination. He went straight to the Cabaret and solicited the madame, hoping to illicit information concerning latent homosexuals.

The madame was highly attentive and appreciated Herma’s comely solicitations. After coming three or four times, the madame admitted there was a bloomin’, queer sight at the edge of the Villa. “Well, if you’re pulling out,” she said, sighing, as Herma hastened into his fashionable attire, “Please remember me and come again.”

“I will come again and again,” promised Herma Aphrodite, blowing a gay farewell.

Herma dragged through the streets of the Villa, savoring his delectable moments with the madame. A pity the moments could not have lingered, he reflected, but a loyal subject to the queen cannot bend for any madame.

At the outer most edge of the villa was indeed a bloomin’ queer sight. A single closet stood among a bush of pussy willows. Within the half-opened door leaned a budding faggot. He looked very forlorn among the laced begonias and shrinking violets, and Herma’s heart was moved to compassion. “Why,” said Herma to the spindly fag. “How queer. You are bloomin’. I believe you are a pansy. Why don’t you come out from among the pussies and join my flaming company?”

The little fag turned instantly gay and skipped out under the rainbow sky. “I have been waiting for my fairy guard mother for so long,” he lisped. “Are you the one?”
“I am here to transport you to the transcendental ferry, the Sea Nymph. There will be seventy nine other gays consorting on the Nymph. She will labor hard to transfer us to Queen Aphrodisiac’s fruitful territories.”
“Ooh,” said the gay little fag. “I have never had the opportunity to be inside the Queen’s fruitful territory. I think it would be a delicious adventure. My name is Ty Tass, by the way. What’s yours?”
Herma smiled gently and patted Ty Tass’ hand. “Your fondest wish,” he answered. Herma Aphrodite and Ty Tass joined company, and afterwards proceeded through the field of pansies to meet with the Transcendental Ferry. It was time to return to the Queen.

It was an especially marvelous day the Sea Nymph entered the Elysian Channel. She swelled gently and rolled in the waves of liquid ecstasy. Ty Tass stood at the bow of the Nymph and hung on to his rail with both hands. “I say,” said Ty, glowing. “We have made a grand entrance into the Channel.”
“Yes, indeed,” answered Herma with amusement, lighting a match. His fag was starting to flame.

There were sixty nine positions to fulfill on the Nymph and the eighty gays hastened to fulfill them. They were so busy fulfilling the positions, they did not notice, that upon entering the strait, a vessel loomed, carrying a paranoid paradox filled wih hysterical homophobes. Before the gays had a chance to save their fingernails, the homophobes had straddled the Nymph and invaded the powder rooms. The confrontation was over-powering. Brave Ty Tass surrendered his iniquities, but to no avail. He still lost his hair curlers. Herma Aphrodite swung his stout club, yet the homophobic penetration was so deep, even he was soon overcome.

It looked as though all was lost for the Nymph, and her gay troops. Suddenly, there was a lascivious cry, and out of the narrow strait shot a substantial seductress and seventy sirens. It was the Madame, coming on her own steam and the backs of her lesbians!
The dykes broke at the man holds, but the lesbians kept coming. The homophobes were soon searching for a hole to enter. When they had all succumbed to the wanton wills of the litigating lesbians, the homophobes leveled their vessel and pointed it in a different direction.

It was a warm and tender re-union between Herma and the Madame. Once again she showed him her tricks and made him promise he would come for her again some day. The parting was just as succulent. Later, the Madame left, taking her tricks, her lesbians and holding up her dykes.

The Nymph navigated into Transformania without further mishap. The eighty gays riding her were grateful for the rolling ferry. The news went out quickly throughout the queendom that the Nymph had arrived carrying the latent homosexuals. The fairies twittered the word from mouth to mouth and flaming faggots were piled for miles around.

Queen Aphrodisiac felt like an elixir. He trembled with excitement. At last, he could point his wand and perform the final miracle. Noble, loyal Herma Aphrodite. He had brought everybody out of the closet. The Queen powdered his puff one last time and adjusted his maidenform. He entered his parlor where good Herma waited along with a fully bloomin’ pansy. “My dearest Herma Aphrodite, you have performed well for me,” praised the satisfied queen. “I shall now grant you the greatest honor one could bestow on a fairy.”

Herma held up his hand. “If it pleases you dear Aphro, I have been around the world and tackled the paranoid homophobes. I have seen what’s up with men and down with women. A certain madame uses her tricks and keeps me coming. Ty Tass is a valiant violet, and if it’s all the same, you could point your wand at him.”

Queen Aphrodisiac was a little surprised, but being a good fairy, he pointed his wand at Ty Tass and turned him into a real girl. Herma Aphrodite returned to his madame and the fairies of flaming Transmania and lived gaily ever after.

About karlsie

Some great perversity of nature decided to give me a tune completely out of keeping with the general symphony; possibly from the moment of conception. I learned to read and speak almost simultaneously. The blurred and muffled world I heard through my first five years of random nerve loss deafness suddenly came alive with the clarity of how those words sounded on paper. I had been liberated for communications. I decided there was nothing more wonderful than writing. It was easier to write than carefully modulate my speech for correct pronunciation, and it was easier to read than patiently follow the movements of people’s lips to learn what they were saying. It was during that dawning time period, while I slowly made the connection that there weren’t that many other people who heard the way I did, halfway between sound and music, half in deafness, that I began to understand that the tune I was following wasn’t quite the same as that of my classmates. I was just a little different. General education taught me not only was I just a little isolated from my classmates, my home was just a little isolated from the outside world. I was born in Alaska, making me part of one of the smallest, quietest minorities on earth. I decided I could live with this. What I couldn’t live with was discovering a few years later, in the opening up of the pipeline, which coincided with my first year of junior college, that there were entire communities of people; more than I could possibly imagine; living impossibly one on top of another in vast cities. It wasn’t even the magnitude of this vision that inspired me so much as the visitors who came from these populous regions and seemed to possess a knowledge so great and secretive I could never learn it in any book. I became at once, very conscious of how rural I was and how little I knew beyond the scope of my environment. I decided it was time to travel. The rest is history; or at least, the content of my stories. I traveled... often to college campuses, dropping in and out of school until one fine day by chance I’d fashioned a bachelor of arts degree in psychology. I’ve worked a couple of newspapers, had a few poems and stories tossed around in various small presses, never receiving a great deal of money, which I’m assured is the norm for a writer. I spent ten years in Mexico, watching the peso crash. There is some obscure reason why I did this, tightening up my belt and facing hunger, but I believe at the time I said it was for love. Here I am, back home, in my beloved Alaska. I’ve learned somewhat of a worldly viewpoint; at least I like to flatter myself that way. I’ve also learned my rural roots aren’t so bad after all. I work in a small, country store. Every day I greet the same group of local customers, but make no mistake. My store isn’t a scene out of Andy Griffith. The people who enter the establishment, which also includes showers, laundry and movie rentals, are miners, oil workers, truck drivers, construction engineers, dog sled racers and carpenters. Sometimes, on the liquor side, the conversations became adult only in vocabulary. It’s a good thing, on the opposite side of the store is a candy aisle filled with the most astonishing collection, it will keep a kid occupied with just wishing for hours. If you tell your kids they can have just one, you have an instant baby sitter; better than television; as they agonize over their choice while you catch up on the gossip with your neighbor. We also receive a lot of tourists, a lot of foreign visitors. They are usually amazed at this first sign of Alaskan rural life style beyond the insulating hub of the Anchorage bowl. Many of them like to hang around and chat. They gawk at our thieves wanted posters. They laugh at our jokes and camaraderie with our customers. I’ve learned another lesson while working there. You don’t have to go out and find the world. If you wait long enough, it comes to you.

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