Irene's reply (rough)

[wytchcroft]

What’s that? Speak up – I need to know just what you’re asking, just – do you even know what you’re asking? Huh Mister? Well, come on, don’t get all bashful now, put your money where your… let’s put our pistols on the table shall we and ante up.



Gay. Hmm? Did I hear you right? I know, I know, ok. Gay. Were we… gay. We were. All of us, all so very gay, you know, back then, so very gay, hell, weren’t we the bright young things, you read about I’m sure.

But that’s not what you what you want to know is it buster, let’s get this straight right now – we may have been... gay, but sure as apples mister, not all of us were queer.

What? Oh you heard me, you heard me just fine – back then it – there was no – gay… Jesus. Queer’s the word, and queer? Hell, what aint queer about women in pants taking to the air like that, women with the sound of engines and sky hollering through their pretty empty heads and the hair all in their eyes, played merry hell with a lady’s mascara let me tell you. Women with wings.

Gay… Damn it, when did people get so sensitive about it – what you’re asking… on a summers day, some Hicksville out of town poke hole, some country fair, we could set down among the burnt smell of thirsty grass, intoxicating kerosene and candyfloss, were we fucking the innocent gals of America right there in the back of our hot and sinful metal? Were we queer?

Some of us - maybe… free to be… You know, she was so brazen for a gap toothed queen bitch coming on so eager, huh, standing there, striking that well known pose, hands on hips or the back pockets, the back bent just ever so, looking up and down at the same time, so studied she must have practised it for hours… “Well, I want to fly – you gonna teach me?” And the hand extended. Such an eager little piece, such a – fan. You think all this is new? Huh? You think? She had our stance already and soon as tutored she got the haircut and the rest down pat.

Ah, bullshit. You think nobody smirked back then? No/one got vicious?

Poor Julia.

And here YOU are now, asking with such effrontery…

She always… the flyer…
oh sure, it’s easy to picture her, standing before her island, hand on hip or taking to the air with the slap of a hand, wild eyed and peter pan. I’m not wilting Wendy here Mister, you got that?

And what if I COULD bring her back huh? Conjure her up for you, hmm? That pretty girl like a boy who may have been a boy inside a girl, that vixen Ariel… That would be something, wouldn’t it? That would be… magic. Summon her – Ariel and her island. Had I that magic… wouldn’t that be just dandy, wouldn’t that make me a fine Prospero?

No, it would make me Sycorax, mister –
it would make me the witch.

I am, Sir, unwilling to undertake such a role.

Go home, the show’s over boys – and all the gals are gone.

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written in response to a comment on lj re amelia earhart