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11-17-02, for Ray
Everybody be quiet! It's a secret...
The Birthday Satyr waited a discrete moment or two after Ray left La Taverna for the night before making a call on his cell phone. Shortly afterwards, a portly gentleman in a sequined jumpsuit entered the bar and took a seat at his table.
“Look, you're going to be on your own for this gig. I'll be out of town and the Birthday Nymph is on suspension.”
“Don' worry about it, man,” the Sequined Stranger answered, his lip curling in a parody of a snear. “I got it all under control.”
The door of La Taverna opened, and in marched ten Air Police in sequined flight suits and non-regulation wigs with long sideburns. They marched in precise half steps toward the stage, if it can realistically be called marching. Only the fact that they moved in perfectly synchronized motions kept the obscene gyrations of their hips from being laughable. They marched onto the stage, executed something resembling a karate punch, and snapped to parade rest.
“Who the blog are they?” asked BS.
“They're the Air Force Air Police Elvis Drill Team. AFAPEDT,” replied his guest.
“Look, you realize Ray's birthday isn't until Sunday, don't you?”
“No sweat. Just have the waitress feed them some fried chicken and pork rinds from time to time, and they'll stay out of sight behind the curtains on the right of the stage until the 17th. It's cool.”
Before BS could protest, another wig-wearing sequin-sporting caped crowd entered.
“Those are the VFW Elvises. That's my affiliation. We'll take the left curtain.” On the whole, this group was older and more, um, fleshy than the Air force group.
A third group entered. They looked like the middle ground, sort of. Not as fat as the older men, not all of them as fit as the APs, though some might be more so. What distinguishd them was that they had even more sequins, and their pants were even tighter than anyone elses. “Who are they?”
“They're the Queen's Kings, a gay Elvis group. They threatened to boycott if we didn't let them in on it.”
BS groaned. Too late to call the Birthday Bunny and arrange something different. “Where are you going to hide them?”
“They said they'd hide in the men's room. It'll all work out.”
BS looked at his watch. “I've got to go. Are you sure you have this under control?”
“Hey, man, we're cool. We hide until Sunday, then jump out and yell 'surprise!' We sing 'Happy, Happy Birthday, Baby' and do our Shtick. This Ray guy will love it.”
BS stood and headed for the door, shaking his head. He just hoped that Ray would have a Happy Birthday.
