Night of the Living Drag

(The Jenkins clan, left to right: Daph, VD, Peggy, Bo Lima, Mookie, Momma, DJ and Linda)

It appears that reports of my untimely demise were greatly exaggerated. Yes, it's true that I was run down by a Marta bus on my way to a gig at The Armory with The Glamazons. Head over to Drag-O-Rama with Momma Dale for the whole spooky tale.

That probably would have been the end of the story if not for my adoringly deranged fans. Not content to let me go the way of Margaret Mitchell, they retrieved my cold corpse from the morgue and performed a ritual of dark drag magic. Using liberal amounts of Ben Nay and glitter, they revived my lifeless husk and sent me on my way to bring glamour and gore to the denizens of Hotlanta. Naturally, my first stop was Momma Dale's where I met up with a whole gaggle of my sisters: Peggy, Linda, Pinkie, VD, Paris and even that homicidal hussy, Bo Lima. I may have been un-dead but I still looked prettier than VD.

Before long we were tanked and ready to head over to Iona Trailer's Halloween Hoedown. Like a phalanx of fabulous zombies we descended upon that den of cuddly bears and got that party started. First stop for me and Pinkie was the buffet table. Pinkie wisely pointed out that my pocketbook was plastic and proceeded to shove all the cold cuts in there for later. Naturally, Linda was slung up behind the bar slinging drinks for herself and everyone else at the party.

However, the old adage from horror movies that when you bring someone back from the dead they never come back quite right proved to be absolutely true. As the night wore on and my sobriety diminished I began to feel a growing hunger building inside. As in a trance, I began grabbing men and moaning, "Brains! I need brains!" Luckily, there were many helpful chaps ready to give me exactly what I needed. Oddly enough, they all seemed to be carrying their brains down below their belt buckles. Momma Dale must have been right when she taught me that men do all their thinking between their legs.

My unnatural appetite sated, it was time to call it a night. For some reason I woke up the next day feeling like I'd been hit by a bus all over again. It must have been those voodoo shots Linda was brewing.

Happy Halloween,
Daph