Freak Show

The crowd didn’t have too long to dwell on it, though.

Rumble, rumble.

There was a commotion at the gates.

The stadium lights went down.

There was a crackle on the P.A. system, followed by a sharp squelch.

In the bleachers everybody turned and strained to see what was going on. Some people stood. Others took out their binoculars. “Here comes the drag queen,” they whispered to one another. “Now THIS is going to be a show!”

“Ladies and gentlemen . . . ,” Principal Onnigan began in his slowest drawl—and the crowd began clapping slowly, rhythmically . . .

Clap . . . clap . . . clap . . . clap . . .

“I now present candidate number four. . . .”

Clap . . . clap . . . (a little bit faster now).

Now add foot stomps, too.

“Riding in float number four . . . ,” he said, his voice rising, too.

Here, Principal Onnigan paused to let the clapping grow faster, faster.

Louder, louder.

Clap! Clap! Clap!

“HERE COMES BILLY BLOOM!”

CLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPSTOMPSTOMPSTOMP!

The crowd went ballistic. COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY BALLISTIC! People cheered. Flashbulbs pop-popped. News cameras began rolling.

I can’t tell you.

I can’t tell you what it meant. . . .

I looked out from behind the banner and saw what looked to be hundreds of Scarlet Fs waving in anticipation of my arrival. Like a bright field of Jujubes.

I saw the faces, I felt the love, and I was finally, finally accepted.

And for that moment, for the first time in forever, I was happy as a fly in a pie. Yes, I was.

HONK! HONK! HERE I COME!

I came crashing through a giant paper banner that read INVASION OF THE SUPERFREAKS! in ten-foot letters.

The audience gasped when they realized I was driving a giant purple platform shoe! YES!—13 feet 6 inches tall! A tricked-out lawn tractor, built up with chicken wire, smoothed over with papier mâché, and covered with glittering paillettes, how about that?

I stood at the front of the shoe, with the steering wheel in the middle, smiling and waving as I zipped toward the crowd at a considerable speed. LOOK AT ME! Dressed in my Superfreak costume, my purple sequin suit, with its red wig and yellow cape fluttering in the wind behind me. I was every inch the conquering hero!

WHEEE! HONK! HONK!

There’s more!

Behind me, spilling out into a V formation, were DOZENS OF MINI-ME’S! (Yes! I’m not hallucinating or making this up!) in SMALLER PURPLE PUMPS, made from shopping carts instead of lawn mowers but built up the same way! They knelt in the carts while being pushed by EVEN MORE MINI-ME’S!

Yes! I KNOW! IT’S NUTS! IT’S INSANE!

They were shadow students—all of them dressed in re-creations of the various outfits I’d made infamous: New Wave pirates, swamp zombies, Zelda Fitzgeralds, She-Hulks, and bloody prom queens, their identities suitably obscured.

SO IT WAS A SORT OF COSTUME RETROSPECTIVE! YES! . . .

“THE BEST OF BILLY!”

Some carried signs: ALL HAIL QUEEN B!! LET BILLY BLOOM! and SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL FREAK SHOW!

Almost all wore Scarlet Fs.

Now, just imagine the sheer fabulosity of the scene, so far . . . the spectacle of almost two dozen stiletto-driving Billy Blooms that have all but run amok on the football field . . .

Oh, and on the Jumbotron: EXCELSIOR, O LUSUS NATURAE! or “EVER UPWARD, O FREAK OF NATURE!”

As if in a dream . . .

I circled the track one last time in my purple pump-mobile—

Smiling and waving for my victory lap. . . .

Yes, yes, look at me: dressed proudly in my Superfreak costume . . . with the best of my other outfits trailing behind me in a V. . . listening to the magical applause from the crowd.

Truly, I had reached nirvana. This was heaven on earth.

All in all, I’d say things were looking up for me.