Unwittingly of course. My arch-nemesis, Krystal Meth, was feeling anxious and depressed about a drag contest last year. Since we're both fuck-ups, I empathized and decided to intervene.
Huge mistake. I figured that she would lose, so I devised this plan...oh hell, read about it yourself...
“Empathy For The Devil"
The Miss Gay Missouri semi-finalists included Lady Von Hindenburg, Krystal Meth, Miso Tastee, and an arrogant little upstart named Jizzabelle. While Lady Von Hindenburg-referred to more commonly as LVH- possessed a modicum of talent, no one understood how a virtual novice like Jizzabelle qualified for an event that prided itself on featuring top-notch performers. Although Miso was wildly entertaining, her attention to detail in both costume choices and choreography had deteriorated since her discount Lasix surgery. She was also prone to sleazy on-stage antics that went beyond the pale on many occasions.
And then there was Krystal.
To say that she had gone down the stony path was woefully insufficient. She had careened down it at break-neck speed with a brick wedged against the accelerator. In addition to the alcohol problem, her casual drug usage had escalated as had her disdain for any type of food that required chewing. Her mental frailty was painfully evident during her routines, and the level of abuse that she dished out to hecklers shocked even the most jaded drag queens on the circuit. If her on-stage psychodramas continued, it was only a matter of time before club owners joined together and banished her from their venues.
When Samara quizzed me as to why I hadn’t even bothered to compete, I explained to her that I was focusing instead on creating new ideas for future shows. My performances had also become a bit stale as of late, a point driven home to me one evening when a deceptively genteel looking audience member in his sixties screamed out, “you did this shit ten years ago and it sucked ass then!”
While my first instinct was to leap off the stage and pluck out his eyeball like Darryl Hannah did in that movie, I instead did what any true artist would do-I assessed the criticism and used it for self-improvement purposes. I also followed the asshole out to his car when the bar closed and threw a brick through his windshield.
