The gate to get inside is intense. Having now been to LA I can attest to this. In Los Angeles you get a red carpet and crowd-control ropes. In Ohio you get a black, metal cage with bars on it, a tiny slot of a window and a big oaky motherfucker that drinks straight gin (well gin) and has arms the size of a fat girl’s waist. America never had vodka until the end of prohibition. I just thought you should know that. You don’t get a guy in a suite politely turning you away from the door, in Ohio. What you get is a gecko-looking zipperhead dyke with fucking skeletal implants and face tattoos. She may go by Zombie Lizard now, but her real name used to be Elizabeth Ronstadt. I love Ohio. Ohio is the best.
“Slammy!!” is what she says when we get to the gate. I have no idea what that means.
She fuckin hits the bars.
“D’you have tickets?”
“Fucking tickets!?” I say. I get right up in her face. “Fuck you.”
Liz climbs up on the window, on her side of the bars. Leopard-looking lizard, tattoo girl. Her fingernails are curling. The skin on her face changes color, changes patterns, blending in with the walls. She doesn’t even have to speak. Her tongue says it. Says it with forks. She wants to see our tickets.
“I’ll fucking fuck you so hard you’ll be licking your lips with my dick, bitch.” That’s what I tell her.
She likes that. “I’ll stick my finger so far up your ass your brain’ll get the motherfucking hiccups, motherfucker.” That’s what she says to me.
“The fucking hiccups? Is that all you’ve got? Fucking..lizard-looking..Mick” (that’s the bouncer) “why don’t you let this lizard out of her cage and run ‘er around the block a bit, I don’t think this bitch has gotten fucked in a long time.”
“What the fuck did you say to me?” She’s got her fingers through the bars and I’m licking them. She sticks one partway up my nose.
Chad is facing Mick. “So..how much are..tickets?”
Zombie pulls her fingers back inside the cage. “They don’t need no fuckin tickets, Mick. Have a good time. Fuckin: upstairs. Fuckin: downstairs. Stay the fuck—“ she reaches through the bars and grabs my neck “—stay the fuck out of the basement. I know you.” She’s looking at all four of us, as if all four of us were going straight from this cage into the motherfucking basement. She pulls me closer. “And stay the fuck off the roof.” She laughs. “I’m serious, you, you fucking fall off that roof I’ll be laughing at your fucking funeral. Ok? I’ll be crying by the grave but when I turn away..I’m gonna fucking laugh cause your dumb ass should know better. Are you workin tomorrow?”
I smile. I’m looking into lizard eyes.
“Get get the fuck outta here.” She pushes me back.
I can breathe. I turn my neck.
Mick lets us into the club.