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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.