TEN MILE ROAD - Page 5
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“Grab a shoehorn and shove me in,” I say and we run the fifteen-minute

transformation drill. Glitter covers the floor everywhere as Marcia tosses it in my hair.

I hear SlamJamJoey kickin’ downstairs. The beats come right up through the floor. He

must have drawn number three, the opener. It’s a warm up with the crowd still arriving.

“I got your prop,” Marcia whispers. “Brandon kind of ‘borrowed’ it from work.

It’s got to be back, in one piece, on Monday.” She motions over to one corner of the

room. A huge old jackhammer is leaning against the wall. “It’s your lucky night, big

lady. We drew number one. You get to close.” She dusts my chest with a last dash of

blue glitter that clings to the adhesive she rubbed on my large expanse of exposed skin.

The excess sinks between my breasts. I’ve waited so long to bust out, bust outta this

house, bust outta that door. I been blind, been deaf, but I’m ready to roar.

“Let’s go listen to Daddy2Cool. I’m ready,” I say and we go down the stairs,

through the bar and into the dancehall. We stand way in the back behind the soundman,

Bobby. He smiles and winks at us. “Go get him Shirley,” he says.

Daddy is up on stage, arms waving, foam flying from his lips. Heavy gold chains

swinging around his neck. The front of the audience is his fly girls. Scantily clad and

moaning with pleasure, they writhe to the music. “Do me, Daddy!” they cry. Daddy is

real rubbery, like a snake. He slides around the stage, hissing and crotch grabbing. I see

him scan the audience. A mistake. He’s looking for me, I can tell. I stand tall, blue hair

glowing above the crowd packed sweaty shoulder to shoulder. Smoke is pouring from

his smoke machines on stage. Fingers of white smoke wriggle through the audience

–Daddy struts this way and that, then points at me and starts bobbing. You blue bitch

you give ‘em blue balls. I gonna laugh when you fall. I gonna Huh-huh-huh and nasty

nasty. Whip it in your face. Watching you bleed raw. You ain’t nothing up one big

tittie. All shriveled up and no no pretty. Watch me whip it. That’s it baby, whip it.

Watch me now, Oh baby. Feel it. He’s crotch grabbing like wild now and the fly girls

are screaming. One climbs on the stage and they dry hump. The smoke gets thick as he

wails and carries on.

Suddenly three canisters onstage explode, shooting whipped cream into the air.

Lights crash and Daddy is gone. Really gone. So gone, he doesn’t even know it yet.

The crowd whoops and hollers. But I am ready. Daddy2Cool won’t even know what hit

him. Marcia slips away to open in her Ninja disguise. My words are sharp as Ninja

fighting stars. Damn the torpedoes. I’m a mountain of a woman coming at ya. Ready,

aim, fire.

Marcia opens with the beats. We buy them from some high school computer

music geeks. They are special. Anyone can move to them. She is scratching and

spinning and playing while I shimmy through the audience to the stage. Buckets of blue

glitter confetti have been rigged over the audience. Marcia pulls a cord. It tumbles over

the crowd and they scream and go wild. I’m shaking my bootie moving towards the

stage, wailing and howling into the microphone I’m carrying. Oh yes baby, I’m ready to

fight. Get down tonight. This here is Motown. Listen to my lowdown. This here is

Motown, where the weak are eaten alive. I’m one bad Mama coming at ya. Get down

tonight. Get down. I’m coming at ya. Finally I reach the stage and six young men in the

audience give me a one-two-three boost up. I’m wearing 6-inch neon blue platform

shoes. I look way larger than life like a statute or a visitor from another planet.

Someone’s fantasy of the Great Mother. I grab the jackhammer. That’s when the trouble

begins.

I mount it and when I reach the line I like ‘em big and strong. Full of action. You

gotta a little weenie that you’ve been packin’ all hell breaks loose. Out of the corner of

my eye I catch a black and gold flash, realizing too late that it’s Daddy2Cool looking like

Ferdinand the Bull.

“That’s it Mama. I won’t take no more insults from some old white lady. You

too big for your britches. I’m cutting you down.” He gets off one good swing that

catches me in the eye. He tackles me and we topple to the ground, rolling around the

stage. I may be old but I’m big and strong and he is blubbery. When I punch him in the

gut it feels like a giant marshmallow. I manage to incapacitate him with a knee to the

groin by the time Joe the Bouncer and some other beefy guy make it up onto the stage.

The crowd seems to think its just part of the show. They haul Daddy2Cool away. My

head is a whir and the beats are a blur.