"Jack, what are we *doing* in here?"
"We came to pick up chicks, Dave," Jack bobbed his head to the music that was blasting from speakers lining the walls. Dave looked around nervously.
"Uh....Jack...." he poked Jack in the arm. "Why don't I see any of these girls?"
"Dave, what-" just then they were approached by a very large man dressed in a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt and very tight jeans.
"Hey!" He yelled over the music. Jack and Dave pretended not to hear him, frantically looking for an escape route. Mush made the mistake of turning his head towards the voice and soon found the arms of this stranger wrapped securely around his shoulders.
"Hey there, dollface, you sure are a cutie," the big man said in a terrible Southern accent. "Mah name's Steve, but ya'll can call me Big Mac, all mah friends do," he gave Mush the once over and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "You here alone, sweet thang?"
"....n....no..." Mush squeaked. "I's wit my f...friends."
That was a mistake.
"That's ahright, there's plenty a room fer all a ya'll," Big Mac continued. Mush took one look at him and burst into hysterical tears, bringing a concerned Racetrack over to check on him.
"Mush, wassa madda witch you?" he demanded, smacking Mush upside the head. Big Mac grinned.
"Oh, so ya'll are into that Do-mee-natrix stuff. Well that ain't a prolem with Big Mac, here," he leered. Racetrack shrank another four inches.
"....J,.......Jack?" he squeaked. "Help..." his lower lip trembled as Kid Blink, Jack, and Davey came over to investigate.
"What seems to be the problem?" Dave asked. Big Mac winked at him.
"Nothin a little good lovin won't cure, sugar," he answered. Davey's eyes widened to the sie of dinner plates.
"Ex...excuse me?" he coughed, suddenly having something caught in his throat. "I think you're a bit mistaken."
"Oh, really? Why don' we go back to mah place an' you can tell me all about it, honey."
"N-no, no, that's ok. See. We--us, we're..."
"Straight," Jack finished for him. The others nodded furiously, especially Mush, who was still trapped under Big Mac's arm.
"So whacha you doin in this part a town?" "That you can blame on our fearless leader over there," all the newsies glared at Jack. Big Mac threw back his head and laughed,causing the whole establishment to suddenly go quiet.
"Hey, boys, looks like we got a couple a strays on our hands here," he called. "You know what we do with strays, don't ya, baby?" he said to Blink.
"Uhm....ah-gberte....p....please don't kill us...." Blink whimpered. The bar shook with laughter.
"Nah, nah, we ain't gonna hurt ya!" Big Mac assured the frightened newsboys. "You come on back here with me and Joe and we'll show ya what we do with strays...."
Dave turned several, very interesting shades of green; Jack tilted his head to the side, not fully understanding, and shrugged; Mush teared up again; Blink almost soiled himself; and Race let out a very unmanly screech and made a dash for the door. He almost made it, too. Big Mac caught him at the last minute, however, and, picking him up, threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He and "Joe" escorted the four standing newsies and the one hysterical Racetrack to the back...
"Allrighty. Gentlemen and Not-so-Gentle-men, Big Mac's Big Gay Bar is now proud to present for ya'lls dinin pleasure five of the most deel-ectable dishes this here city has to offer.
"First up, ya'll, we got Racetrack 'The Italian Stallion' Higgins with 'I Will Survive'. Let's give him a warm welcome, huh?"
Big Mac joined in the applause as the lights dimmed. A single spotlight hit the middle of the stage, illuminating a very enchanting figure.The figure turned its head slowly, opened it's purple-shadowed eyes, and batted its eyelashes.
"First I was afraid/I was petrified/Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side/But then I spent so many nights Just thinking how you did me wrong and I grew strong/And I learned how to get along/And now you're back--"
The figure spun around shaking its groove thing as the seedy stage lights went up, revealing a Racetrack unlike any Racetrack ever seen before. His delicate frame was wrapped in clingy purple satin, an enormous lavender feather extended from a purple sequined headband atop his freshly curled, shiny black locks, and he was adorned in 6" platform sandals which were also varying shades of violet. Every orifice of his body not covered by the scant dress was coated with white pancake makeup, except his eyelids, which were thickly topped with purple eyeshadow all the way to his eyebrows, scarlet lips formed the words to 70s Disco, and long red fingernails pointed out each and every guy in the club, who were by this time whistling madly and catcalling at the top of their lungs.
When the song ended, Racetrack blew a few kisses and waggled his fingers to the audience before dissapearing behind the curtain.
"Ya know, it ain't so bad out dere, guys," he exclaimed, tripping over his massive shoes. "I tink you's up next, Dave," Racetrack motioned to the barely recognizable Dave, who was cowering in a corner. "C'mon, Dave, yous'll ruin ya dress cowerin like dat," Racetrack scolded. Dave climbed to his feet, straightened his skin-tight, red evening-gown type dress and repositioning the thigh-high slit to where it belonged. His right leg.
"It's all a dream, it's all a dream," he repeated to himself, squeezing his eyes shut. "Any second now Moma'll come in and wake me up and I'll get up and go and have pancakes and bacon and...." Big Mac's voice drowned out his lamentations.
"And now, pree-sentin David Jacobs. Now boys," Big Mac grinned. "Ya'll are gonna love this feller's nickname. They call him 'The Walking Mouth'." The bar erupted into guffaws, cheering, and whistles. "Let's hear it fer David singing 'It's Rainin Men'! Oh...if only!"
The lights dimmed once again, and a single spotlight fell on the closed curtain. One single high-heeled foot attatched to a rather shapely leg presented itself betwen the curtains as the music began. It was soon followed by a hip, and as David sashayed onto the stage, confidence growing with every wiggle of his ever-so-voluptuous hips, the cheers of the audience intensified. His makeup was much the same as Racetracks-pale skin, red lips, heavy blue eyeshadow. Davey sauntered across the stage, taunting the audience with movement. When the music finally died down and Davey had to return backstage, he winked at a few choice audience members. It was now Blink's turn.
"Aw, wadn't he purdy?" Big Mac asked. The audience whooped and hollered in response. "I knew ya'll'd think so. Now we's got a real treat fer ya. A feller by the name a Kid Blink. But around here we just call him 'The One-Eyed Monster', if....you know what I mean. Looks more like an angel to me, though. Here he is, singing 'You Are So Beautiful'."
The room fell silent as Blink stepped onto the stage clothed in resplendent white gauzy material. Blink flowed across the stage with his microphone, looking starry-eyed and dreamy. His makeup was not gaudy and flashy like the others, but rather soft and delicate. He wore slippers on his feet and flowers in his hair. His silvery voice floated through the high notes an brought tears to the eyes of the men in the audience--by the time the song was over more than half of them were openly weeping. As the last strains of music tapered off and he glided backstage, he nearly collided with Racetrack and Dave, both of whom hastily wiped tears from their cheeks.
"I...think I have...something in my eye..." Racetrack sniffled, collapsing into sobs again. Long streaks of mascara coated Dave's face.
"Let's go to the bathroom," he wailed, "I think there's something in my eye, too." The weeping pair, arms around each other's shoulders, staggered to the bathroom. Their crying could be heard on the stage.
"Looks like Blinky Baby's pre-formance didn't only get to us in the audience," Big Mac remarked, wiping his own cheeks dry. "That's a tough act to follaw...let's see if Jacky Boy can top him. Hey, hey," he glared at a few raunchy jokesters in the front row, "Ya'll know I didn't mean that lilerally.
"And now, put ya'lls hand together fer Jack Kelly, otherwise known as 'Cowboy' singin 'Mickey'!"
Jack ran out on stage clutching two huge, extravagent red and white pom-poms. His red and white cheerleader ensemble revealed just enough leg to really get the audience going, and the pig-tail wig which bobbed so enthusiastically fanned the flames. The highlight of the dance was undoubtedly the succession of backhandsprings which ended in a fantastically high toe-touch that flashed his red and white tiger-print bloomers. That brought the audience to its feet. When the cheers finally subsided, Big Mac took the stage once again and ushered Jack, who was still wowing the crowd with his gymnastic abilities, backstage.
"Last, but definately not least, we got a sensitive type." the crowd cheered. "I know ya'll like them kind. Here's Mush Meyers with my personal favorite, 'Dancing Queen'."
Mush discoed onto the stage waving to his already adoring fans. His hot-pink polyester bell-bottoms matched the bright pink leather jacket he wore over a white wife-beater with pink leather boots. His muscles rippled and flexed with every move he made, leaving very little to the imagination and driving the audience crazy. Abandoning the white-makeup look, Mush was decked out in golds and plums that shimmered in the spotlights and accentuated his soft features perfectly. One audience member even tried to slip a dollar into Mush's waistband, but Big Mac made sure he was properly dealt with. When the number was finished, Mush discoed backstage and collapsed in a heap.
"Wow," he panted, "Dat really takes alot outta ya." The others agreed, excluding Blink, who was still looking dreamy and serene. A stagehand poked his head backstage.
"Final number!" he hissed. The boys jumped to their feet and began scurrying about readying themselves for the big finale...
"Well, boys,this is it. I ree-gret to inform ya'll that this is the very last number. Now," he held up his hands for silence against the ensuing protests, "I know, ya'll are all sad. Hell, I don't want em to go myself. But it ain't up to us. So let's hear it one final time for Racetrack, Dave, Kid Blink, Jack and Mush, the Newsies!"
The crowd stood on tables and screamed as the curtains parted...and there stood.....
The Village People.
In black leather, Dave was the Biker. In full "ceremonial" garb, Race was the Indian. Mush bared his chest, and most everything else, as the Construction Worker. Blink abandoned his dreamy stare and became the Policeman. And Jack, of course, was the Cowboy, complete with lasso and hat.
The music began and the newsies felt their pulses racing. One by one they spun around to face their excessively devoted fans, singing and dancing their little hearts out. When the song ended, Jack led the way through the crowd of screaming men and out into the chilly night. Big Mac followed with a bag.
"Boys," he said, shaking his head, "I can't tell ya when the last time we had that great an act. We'd like ya'll to have this as a token of our esteem," here he handed Mush the bag, "in the hopes that ya'll will consider joinin us again sometime. And by the way, in case ya'll decide to ever go barhoppin again, try to avoid them ones with 'gay' in the name. that's generally a tip-off," here he looked straight at Jack. "Good luck," he nodded again and shook hands with all of them, excluding Racetrack, who, when offered a hand, threw his arms around Big Mac's neck in an enormous bear hug.
"I'll miss ya guys," Racetrack sniffled. Big Mac returned the gesture and the entourage turned to leave.
"Ya'll come back, now, ya hear?" Big Mac ordered, choking up. "Don't be strangers."
The newsies walked in silence for a minute or two, each reliving his own personal moment of glory. Finally, Mush spoke.
"Dat was da most fun I's evah had in me life," he remarked. The others nodded their silent agreement.
"Hey, Mush, what's in da bag?" Jack asked. Mush shrugged and opened it.
In the bag were five neatly wrapped brown paper packages, each labeled with their nicknames. "Ok, let's see, Italian Stallion," Mush handed one to Racetrack, "Cowboy, One-Eyed Monster, Walkin Mouth, and me." He distrubuted the packages and they unwrapped them. Inside, each boy found the articles of clothing he had been wearing prior to the performance, and also a special souvenir.
Racetrack delicately fingered his headband's feather. Davey looked lovingly at his red satin heels. Mush put on his pink leather jacket, pulling it tightly around himself. Blink gazed at his slippers, stroking the satiny sides dreamily. And Jack shook out his pom-pom.
They looked at one another and knew they'd be back.
