centuries. Archaeologists come along, theyâre going to find ancient bits of whale-blubber puke or something. Sailors from the olden days, Hudson was their favorite port town, you know? Famous for booze and whores and some very nice opium, I read somewhere. Thatâs what the sailors found in Hudson.â
He gets me back onto the street, heading for a bar three doors down. Funky sign over the door says FAT FRED FEATHERS and thereâs a picture of a dove or something landing on a fat manâs shoulder. âGreat,â Phil says. âThe old FFF is still around. Very cool.â Thereâs lots of loud music and people spilling out the door, some of them in masks and capes and all sorts of stuff. Women in sexy vampire makeup and fishnet stockings. One girl all dressed up in this pink gown, huge skirt and tight-laced top, boobs falling out the front, and a white-wigged head under her arm. Guy in full firefighter gear. Mad scene. âHasnât changed a bit,â Phil says. âThank the Lord.â And he starts to shout, âMake way, peasants. Make way for King Richard in his royal chariot, coming through. The king is thirsty, long live the king.â The crowd laughs and they actually do make a big wide space, and my chair just fits through the doorway. Even the bouncer, huge dude in a Darth Vader mask, kind of shrugs and lets us through.
I have to admit, Iâve never been inside a bar. My mom doesnât drink, and my high school friends and I, we just didnât come even close to looking old enough to stroll on in and order ourselves a beer. So this is a whole new experience, and itâs making me kind of nervous. Itâs dark, for one thing. And it smells. Lots of hot sweaty people and lots of spilled beer, Iâm guessing. What I once heard a Brit exchange student call a real pong. Always liked that word. People are about five deep at the bar and standing everywhere else. Lots in costume. A big green frog next to Osama bin Laden. Witch drinking with a nun. That kind of neat weirdness, all around. Everybody yelling above the music. So loud my head is pounding, and for a minute I feel like Iâm going to puke again. But then the girl in the pink gown is bending down and my face is, like, right up against those breasts spilling out of that dress, and I can smell perfume instead of pong, and right away, I feel better.
Until she plunks a head into my lap. Itâs got red goop all over the neck and blue blank eyes, and its white wig is falling off. I take a deep breath. The girl is laughing. I donât want to seem dumb or wimpy or anything. So I poke my finger into one of the blue eyes and I say, cool as can be, âMarie Antoinette, I presume?â
And the girl puts both hands on her hips and then she dips down into a curtsy kind of bow, then wobbles back up. â Mais oui, my lord,â she yells. âYou really are royalty, I can tell. None of the other bozos here got my costume. And I worked for days on it.â
I look into her real face. Itâs round and plain, but sheâs got her hair all spiked up, dyed pink to match the dress, and sheâs wearing this necklaceâa silver chain with a little miniature guillotine hanging downâand Iâve got to admire her creativity. And her chest. Sheâs short and sheâs chubby and sheâs friendly and she seems sort of smart and sheâs talking to me ? That about says it all.
Phil comes over, elbowing people out of his way. Heâs got two bottles of beer in his hands and heâs grinning all over his face, looking at me and this sweet pink chick talking. He hands me one of the bottlesâBlue Moonâand bows. âMy liege,â he says. âI leave you to your conquest.â And then, with an even deeper bow, he hands the other bottle to the girl. âMademoiselle,â he says, âcompliments of His Royal Highness.â
She takes the bottle and curtsies at him. Then
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