The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas

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      “Whatever you proclaim as your identity here in the material realm is also your drag. You are not your religion. You are not your skin color. You are not your gender, your politics, your career, or your marital status. You are none of the superficial things that this world deems important. The real you is the energy force that created the entire universe!”

      RuPaul , Workin’ It!: RuPaul’s Guide to Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Style’

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    • #3161

        The other flickered and seemed to disappear from the zoc (zone of clarity) of the ezapper.


          The four thespians from the “Théâtre du Soleil” were delighted to have been hired by the Royal Intendant to be the clou du spectacle. They were planning something sensational.
          Chinese fireworks! And a huge colourful hot balloon, attached to a wicker basket big enough to carry them four acrobats in the air, and to bewitch the noble assembly stunned by their contortions and feats of equilibrium. They would make a fortune that night, and the the weather promised a clear bright sky with an ubiquitous full moon.

          They’ve had last minute doubts about the balloon plan, as their usual supplier of beeswax unexpectedly declined to fulfill the order. The whole town suddenly found itself short of it, and it was thanks to the local lard supplier that they could find a suitable amount of fuel for the hot balloon.

          They parked their brightly coloured theater trailer in the small courtyard in front of the Opera House. The construction rubble was blocking the way, and they would need to enter the Opera House though the Chapel, the Intendant had warned them.

          They noticed a maid, and where about to ask her for confirmation as to the direction, but she was ducking suspiciously as though to avoid being seen, and slid out of view very swiftly.


            Sadie was using the sewing app on her e-zapper to modify the horrible garments provided for them, when she noticed that the ferret was moving toward the chapel. She felt a rush of anticipation go through her.

            ”Okay, you guys, we need to hide. Someone is coming and it looks like they have a ferret on them!”


            ”Oh Dear Blessed Mother Mary, and if there are any Saints or Angels listening, please help me. I have done something very bad and done an awful sin and and I don’t want to be beaten so please forgive me. I am so sorry for taking the little toy. It was for my little brother because it is his birthday coming up, but it is a sin to steal and also to think that the Queen is old and ugly and please have mercy on me and I promise I will never sin again and I will serve you the rest of my life. I won’t be rude to Mirabelle, even though she is a bad sinner and quite mean. I will only do good and smile and think good things. I will say my prayers every night. So please have mercy on me and make sure I don’t get in trouble. I am leaving the little toy here for you and you can do what you think is best. But don’t tell anyone I left it”

            ”Please.” she added again, for good measure.

            Feeling satisfied that she had done all she could, Adeline placed the toy ferret gently in front of the statue of Mary, and silently slipped out of the chapel.


              “Well, that was almost too easy…”
              Despite his weight and the various layers of clothes, Reginald who had struggled to get back into Maurana Banana’s tight costume was the first to realize what had just happened, and had rushed to the statue to snatch the prized crocheted ferret, beating Consuela and Terry by a short hand.
              Sadie looked with a slight hint of disapproval at his XVIIIth century apparent undergarments, but was glad that this was resolved so efficiently.

              “The prize is inside the ferret, ladies.”
              “Off with your grabby hands, you tart!” shouted Maurana batting her eyelashes ferociously at Terry Bubble who wanted a closer look at the intriguing tear in the fabric.
              “Oh leave it there, you silly bitch, now you can gloat with your tarty breeches, you haven’t get half your costume ready” Consuela was starting to enjoy the argle-bargle.

              “And what should we do now? Wasn’t there supposed to be another one?” Maurana turned to Sadie.
              “We’re in luck. Obviously there always has been a plan B, dear. The second one was a decoy for the Russian team, I just got it confirmed from the tagging chip of the toy.”

              Everyone was hanged to her words, which was a satisfying moment, not so much for the riveted attentions on her loving person but for the temporary silence. Sadie milked it for a few more seconds before adding.

              “Let’s open it up carefully, there is a key inside we need. Then, you only need to do one thing before we go home. Get on that scene at the Opera, rock the audience, and we’ll get down the Time Sewer off to our time and your prize.”

              She pause before adding, looking down at Maurana’s breeches. “There is obviously some prep’ work left to do.”


                “Who are you? Are you part of the show?”
                The dragqueens had not noticed the four actors coming in the chapel, who were now standing in the aisle with some doubt clouding their faces about possible unexpected competition.

                “And who are you?” Sadie returned the question with suave authority.
                “The Wonderful Theater du Soleil, ma chère. You have in front of you Geoffroy du Limon, Lison Tailleur, Jean Pastisse, and Francette Fine, à votre service.”


                  “You wouldn’t believe what happened to me”, began Cedric who entered the chapel at that moment. The four actors of the Theater du Soleil turned to the newcomer and you could see the surprise on their face at seeing a bearded lady.

                  Sadie acted on an impulse. She set the e-zapper to mild intensity, slided up the time wheel, and zapped the four comedians before anyone could notice. Geoffroy du Limon, Lison Tailleur, Jean Pastisse and Francette Fine were now lying on the chapel floor, as if in the midst of dreams. Jean Pastisse was blushing and Francette Fine giggling.

                  “Why are they doing that?” asked Maurana puzzled. “And why did you do that?”

                  Sadie looked at the e-zapper settings and chuckled. Last time she used the dream induction was with her lover. “Let’s just say they that we are the show now. As for those guys, they’re just having a good dream.”

                  “Are we going to tie them up and gag them ?” asked Terry.

                  Sadie wasn’t sure about a certain hint of anticipation in the drag’s voice.
                  “No need for that,” she said, “They’ll keep dreaming for about four hours. I’ll just have to be there before they wake up to induce them into another dream so we can do our performance undisturbed.”


                    In an attempt to set a good example for the younger less diligent maids, Mirabelle had over exerted herself. Truth be told, she had been nervous, and keeping busy had alleviated her worry. The meeting with Igor Popinkin had gone badly. When it became apparent that the romance between them had been a sham and she’d realized that it was a pretence merely to get the queens ferret, she became enraged and punched him squarely in the bollocks. While he was doubled over howling in pain, she grabbed the ferret back off him and ran out of the folly.
                    But what was she to do with the ferret now? she wondered. Ah! I know! an idea popped into her head. The hot air balloon of the Theatre du Soleil. It would be found the next day, she knew, but she would not be implicated in the theft.


                      Cook swore loudly for the umpteenth time that morning, throwing her wooden spoon across the room. “I just can’t get the consistency right! These tarts are a disaster!”
                      “Now, now, Cook” said one of the kitchen helpers, kindly patting her back. “You’re trying too hard to make sure the tarts are perfect. You know you create your best concoctions when you’re feeling playful and confident. Perhaps you should take a small break, and pop over to the chapel and pray to Mother Mary for lightness and ease.”
                      “I do believe you’re right” replied cook, smiling gratefully at Helper and wiping her floury hands on her apron.


                        As Sadie pulled open the seam of the crocheted ferret a dreadful smell wafted out.
                        “I’m not putting my hand inside there, key or no key” said Terry. “Smells like dead fish how revolting!”
                        “That’s because is IS dead fish, look!” exclaimed Consuela.
                        “Thanks for all the fish” muttered Sadie crossly. “The key must be in the other ferret. Someone must have tampered with the tags. It would appear that we’ve been hoodwinked and this is the decoy meant for the Russians.”
                        “Does that mean we can tie these actors up and gag them, then?” asked Terry hopefully.
                        “Yes alright” replied Sadie, distracted. “We may need some extra time after all.”


                          “You fool” Boris said angrily to Igor, “You were so close, and you let the ferret slip away.”
                          “Shame codpieces are out of fashion, eh Igor” taunted Ivan. “That might have saved you from a battering.”
                          “Piss off, Ivan.”
                          “You’ll have to make it up with that maid, and find out what she’s done with the damn ferret,” said Boris.
                          “Piss off Boris, I’m not going anywhere near her again. Not unless I can wear a codpiece, anyway.”
                          “That can be arranged,” replied Boris, handing Igor a codpeice.
                          “Thanks for all the fish” muttered Igor.


                            Just at that moment, Sadie’s lemon quote pinged through on the e-zapper.

                            Just don’t stop bringing your impulses because they make up for wonderful unexpectedness, twists and turns and plot rebondissements.


                              Geoffroy didn’t realize at first. Then something struck him. That people didn’t pay attention to him was of course a bit curious. Then evidences of something witchy became bright as day, such as the fact that he had no consistency and could walk though stone walls, or that he could see things as soon as he thought about them.
                              All of that was disorienting, even for an acrobat used to twists and turns, and he had to reign himself back from jumping from here to there, in all matters of attention that he would like.
                              For one, he would have loved to drag his companions out of their own slumber, but they seemed under a powerful spell.
                              Some sudden doubt crept along, that he was all but dead — seeing his body lying on the floor was a shock. But then he realized he was still breathing and smiling too. And all the things he could witness with the three transvestites was surprising enough for him to know it could not just be a product of his fertile mind… Or was it? He dismissed the thought before it could take hold.

                              He heard the strange lady talk about ferrets, and became curious. She had a not quite French accent when she’d briefly talked to him, but now, he could almost see her thoughts, without a filter, and they looked dazzling with tinges of the most marvelous green.
                              He wondered if she was talking about the Imperial Russian Ballet troupe who was invited by the Queen for the avant-première of tonight’s show.
                              And sure enough, as soon as the though happened long enough in his head, the scenery whirled around and he popped right in front of the dancers


                                Boris, Ivan and Igor were too busy with the stage props and costumes to notice that the actors had been mesmerized in the chapel. Not only were they busy with the practical affairs of the behind the scenes activities of the theatre, but they were preoccupied with their secret mission, unbeknown to the rest of the theatre production team.


                                  “Frindle, is Geoffroy alright?” asked Trumble. “He seems to be muttering that peculiar gibberish again, is he having another one of his turns?”
                                  “It’s his control issues again, Trumble, he’ll get over it. I think he’s already seeing the green light. He’s having trouble seeing each moment as discrete, with it’s own back story, each story entry as a picnic basket, complete with it’s own history and associations. Each picnic basket is a piece of the puzzle, but they may not fit immediately together, and I think that’s what troubles him.”
                                  “As usual, you’ve hit the nail on the head, Frindle. Funny how it all seems like deja vu, doesn’t it?”
                                  “Trusting that the invisible connecting links are seamlessly interwoven even if they are not apparent is not for the faint hearted” added Jingle, “It would behoove us to remember that we all struggle at times to fit the pieces together. Which is why this is all such a beneficial exercise.”
                                  “True enough, Jingle” replied Trumble. “Many’s the time I’ve had a mad scramble to find a connecting link and make it fit.”
                                  “And many’s the time you’ve fucked up but by not paying attention, Trumble” Frindle pointed out.
                                  “Ah, but that’s because I’ve been paying attention to another aspect instead, you rude tart” retorted Trumble.


                                    Frindle looked at Jingle quizzically. “Is Trumble having imaginary conversations with us again?” she asked. “Bless his sweet soul! I hope they get his meds sorted soon.”


                                      “Imaginary conversations,” replied Jingle with a smile, “Are real too. Ha ha, you are both such silly tarts.”


                                        “And how are we going to lip-synch?” Terry said in horror, realizing the XVIIIth century sound system left too much to be desired. No glittering disco ball, no laser effects, gosh it would be like being naked on stage…

                                        “Well, glad you asked”, Sadie said looking at her ezapper. “You see, this little device can do wonders, such as projecting very convincing holograms to create the most amazing scenes with little props needed, but I’m afraid, it needs a little boost in our case.”

                                        “It needs juice now?” Maurana wondered.
                                        “No, that much is OK, thanks to some fish extract, its battery is now fueled back on for days. All it needs now is an amplifier. That was one of the use of the ferret key, you see.”

                                        “So no key, no extravaganza?” Consuela said with tears in her eyes.

                                        “If you must spell it out that way, yes… But of couse, you can still complete the show without any special effects.” she added mischievously

                                        All three of the queens recoiled in horror at the heretic thought of them performing without any of those bare necessities. The thought of them singing acapella was enough to give them nightmares for days.


                                          “Lucky we don’t have days for you to get your knickers in a twist about it then.” said Sadie brightly. She checked the time. It was just after 1pm. She knew from her previous research the attempt on the King’s life was to happen at 6pm. It didn’t give them much time. But I am sure it will be all the time we need! she reminded herself sternly. She wondered when Linda Paul would send through their next instructions. Now that the key was not in the ferret as had been anticipated, Sadie found herself floundering — despite the confident outward appearance she presented and the engaging way she explained the highly technical capabilities of the wondrous e-zapper.


                                            “Sorry love, I was a tad busy with the whole time travel department reorganization. Had to call HR to fire some of these incompetent nincompooptarts. Can you imagine they not only manage to send you in the wrong period but also… I’m ranting now, sorry about that sweetie pie.

                                            “Look, there’s no nice way to put it, so I’ll cut to the chase. The show’s been canceled by the cable network big potatoes. Too darn expensive not enough audience. You know all that jazz. I tried to argue, but all they wanted was excitement, glamour and bitching and yeah, all they got was a black tunnel and some green vomit. Got to admit, there’s no amount of special effects and sewing mojo you can raise to make your bitches look great in those dresses. Face it darling, they deserve gorgeous, but they’re still as ugly as sin.
                                            Hell, I guess those shareholders twats just couldn’t stand the marvelooks of us…, now I’m ranting again.

                                            “Long story short, forget about the ferret, keys and whatnots and get your pretty asses all right back as fast as you can or they’ll pull the plug out of the time sewers. And you know very well what that means for ye all.”

                                            An ominous sound effect played from the ezapper. Darn Linda Paul always had to amp up the drama.


                                              “Oh fuck off” the words came out without her usual countenance.
                                              Fuck the Queen and motherfucking King, and fuck all of that, and the fuck with those stupid drags in tow, I’d better ask for an extraction team right away. “Oops, sorry no budget love” would most likely be the answer.
                                              Fuck fuck fuck. FUCK FUCK FUCK. Sadie was hysterical for a moment.
                                              It felt good, and she knew she had to feel good above anything else.

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