Pearl’s tiny apartment housed a rumpled hodge-podge: dusty houseplants, Tiki head vase, paper daisies, red gingham curtains, a muddle of books and a ceramic Portuguese rooster crowing from its perch atop the fridge. Pearl claimed kinship to Flannery O’ Connor and displayed a large collection of family photos.
The Lost Angels tribe, still decked out in costumes after a round of hullabaloos—Halloween far more significant a holiday in Hollywood than Christmas—had convened at her place for a nightcap, strains of Edith Piaf emanating from Pearl’s ghetto blaster. Aptly turned out as a princess, Pearl sat in a cloud of white satin and organza furbelows. Feline Fiona had painted her face with orange and black stripes, employing Evinrude as a model. Evelyn was decked out as the consummate witch, replete with long, wonky nose and hair protruding from a bulbous chin mole. She passed a spliff around, revelers talking, or yelling simultaneously. The landlady above banged on her floor, Pearl’s ceiling.
Evelyn cackled. “Sounds like she rides a mean broom.”
Pearl turned down the music. “You guys! You’re gonna get me evicted.”
“Yeah, shut-up!” commanded Evelyn. She picked up an LA Weekly, Prince on the cover, and placing it over her face like a mask, pretended to pick his nose with her index finger, which caused Pearl’s guests to roar with laughter. “Or you will be banished to the barrens of Minnesota to listen to Purple Rain for the rest of your natural lives!”
Bradley the human condom laughed. “Is that a hex?”
Vampire Kaye vainly tried to squelch giggles. Soon they were snapping Polaroids, Evelyn etching designs onto the film as it developed. Kaye slurped her gin and tonic.
“Pearl! You look like one of those toilet paper covers. You know, those dolls people stick on their toilet tanks. Old ladies knit them up.”
“Gee, thanks,” replied Pearl above peals of laughter.
“Hey, yeah!” said Bradley. “I know what you’re talking about. Is there a name for those things?”
Kaye laughed. “Yeah, piss elegance.”
Bradley fell to one knee at Pearl’s feet. “She looks like a beautiful bride.”
“She’s the wedding cake.” Evelyn dipped a finger into Pearl’s organza icing and popped into it her mouth.
Pearl fluffed her stacks of tulle and played I Put A Spell On You.
“I love Screamin’ Jay Hawkins!” Kaye flung her cape over her shoulder invoking the showman they’d seen in concert earlier in the evening.
“The flaming coffin!” cried Bradley. “I loved the flaming coffin!”
“Well, you are a flamer,” said Evelyn.
He ignored the remark. “And the bone in his nose!” Bradley sweated profusely despite discarding most of his plastic costume. “What a brilliant performer! I had no idea.”
“Alice Cooper stole his shtick if you ask me.” Kaye rose, stretched, and repositioned her fake fangs. “Hey, I’m getting out of here before sunrise.”
Fiona drained her drink. Pearl asked her to stay a little longer. One by one their coworkers filed out. Fiona Continue reading
