25
... In Which Minot Remains Unrepentant, and Muses Upon His Plans for the Immediate Future ...
I have Big Plans for Halloween. I think I shall Throw a Party.
I do so Every Year. My house is the CENTER of attention in the Marigny, which is the Center of Attention for Halloween in town. I have a skeleton behind the house — a real one, I found it — and I tell everyone it is that of my Dear Departed Wife, who died in the Blossom of her Youth. Not that they believe it, ha ha, everyone is FUDDLED! It's an all-night Event.
At first the older gentlemen will arrive, for a glass of Port and some lovely conversation, and then the younger men will appear closer to Midnight for the Debauch. I always play Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique at high volumes, and a bit of Carl Orff, though we invariably turn to Jacques Brel and Odetta later in the evening, as the finer liquor runs out and we begin to imbibe the Gallo Burgundy. Contains Sulfites. Fuck eet.
Of course I shall have to suffer the company of women, as it's rather impossible to keep them out when one's throwing a REAL party, especially one in wheech half the beetches weel be dressed as men. But Dietrich in Morocoo they are most deMONstribly not. Though many of them are close friends with my other gentlemen friends, as Art Sluts often enjoy the languid company of Art Fags. I of course know more about Art than ANY of the Faggots who come over here with a pretence to it, and as such I have one over on them, to coin a phrase, hee hee, but I most CERTAINLY know more about eet then the Art Sluts. Depressed and Self-Centered with an air of affected boredom, and often with very white skeen, though Porcelain we will not Deem to Call eet. None of them write or paint anything, of course.
I, however, have determined that all the events of my now-legendary Halloween Parties will become a Book, wheech I weel type up after the next party or . . . Maybe I've already WREETEN EET! No, it's not the title of my Memoirs, The Old Chick's a Dude, but it's working title is rather, Town Full of Hoors. I will TELL ALL. About all these little whores in Nawlins and their seely leetle vices. How the neighbors theenk I'm a VAMPIRE! The town will take a collective SHEET when it Appears. I'll make much of it up, but the rest will be true, about all these leetle faggots and even those like Fenton, or Raphael, or Kermeet, men who preTEND they aren't QUEER. Bah! Well, fiddle-dee-dee.
They can KEES my Ring. The Signet on my finger or the one on my Prince Albert Deek. For the night of Halloween, the Pleasure will Occur between these walls.
I cannot wait.
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