For those of you who missed the reading, last FridayThe Planet of Bald Men
There's this planet of nothing but bald men. Every Saturday, they send a shiny-scalped ambassador to find me here on Earth at the club, dance beside me in the fog and flashing lights, entice me with his flawless oval skull. This week, the ambassador is thin and wearing boots. An improvement on the hulking Mr. Clean they sent, last week.
"Queen, you really should return..." he starts and shakes his narrow butt so slightly to the bass.
I play dumb, pretend I don't know what he means, "Queen? That's slick. Does it ever get you laid?"
Then he grabs me by the fingers and gives the secret handshake. To see if I still remember:
1, 2, 3 taps on the wrist, then slide...
I've started wearing gloves to the club. Lace, satin, latex, whatever matches my outfit. If I don't, the ambassador- the bald man's- palm will tantalize me with it's smoothness, smooth like his head, reflective, perfectly curved.
Then I'll recall the dances on the planet of bald men. All the many bald heads, spinning, shining, a bowl of ants.
I'm in the center, nude. They swarm around me, their sweat-slick scalps glide over the curves of my body. One shoves his baldness between my boobs. Another drags his baldness down the small of my back, to my ass. Another burrows his baldness deep between my thighs, to where I am also bald...
I am some sort of queen or a concubine and that planet is my hive, inhabited by nothing but bald men. And me.
I tell the ambassador, the thin one with the boots dancing beside me, "If you want me, you'll have to catch me," tickle the air with my fingers. Toodaloo.
Then prance away from the dance floor, join my friend Sari, back at the bar. Sari looks like me: pale, red lips, nose ring, black dress. But 5 inches taller and 20 pounds thinner and 4 years younger. She is the hot one, as I'm constantly reminded...
Sleazy Ted, the bartender is lurking behind the beer taps, leering at Sari. Ted has a nasty habit of asking girls to blow him in the bathroom. Sari sees me coming and grins with relief.
I say, "This dude tried to dance with me..."
"Yeah, I saw. Seriously, you're always getting hit on by bald guys. What's with that?" she asks.
I know the answer. But how to explain? "I dunno, maybe they dig the bangs," I point to my head, "wish they had hair so they could have Bettie Page bangs."
That same damn Morrissey song- you know, "I am the sun, I am the air"- comes on and a stampede of people flail their way to the dance floor. Me and Sari stay put at the bar.
The club we go to is dark and plays mostly industrial-type music and 80's too. A goth club, I guess. Though I'm not exactly a goth. I'm not melancholy, I just wear black and find I'm allergic to yuppies and hipsters. So I end up here.
The bald men fit in naturally, at this club. A tight black shirt and a silver earring and you'd never know that he was an alien..
That I'm an alien, too.
I ask Sleazy Ted for another Jack and coke.
We're dancing to some crappy EBM. I can feel the bass boom in my bones. The lights are flashing red and blue. The ambassador from the planet of bald men is grinding his crotch on my thigh. He's a big one, I can tell.
He bends down, licks my earring. His tongue is hot, a shiver trickles down my spine. He whispers into the seashell of my ear, "The ship is parked out back, disguised as a large, white van. One word and you can return to your throne, my queen."
It is tempting. Tempting to ditch my crummy job at Barnes and Noble, my superficial friends, the gaping nights I try to fill here at the club.
On the planet of bald men, I'd be noticed, even worshiped. Not just that hot girl Sari's friend. Not just, Miss, do you have the DaVinci code?
Oh, it's tempting! We dance close, the bald man's sweat rains on me, my cheek is stuck to his neck. We move together like wrestling worms. To anyone observing, we're just another horny club-made pair in the process of hooking up.
"I'll be back," I say, squeeze away from the bald man's arms and run back to the bar, back to Sari. The mohawked fellow sitting next to her, buying her drinks gives me an unfriendly look.
I stare into Sari's lovely light brown eyes and blurt, "Okay, the truth is I'm an alien. I'm the queen from this planet of bald men. And the guy I've been dancing with, he's the ambassador who's come to take me home. He's got the space van parked out back..."
"Woah, honey. You're gonna to crawl into some van with a random guy?"
"He'll take me to another planet!"
Sari pinches her eyebrows together and grabs her hip, "How much did you drink?"
I look back at the bald man, still dancing. Just another club kid. Not an alien. I laugh, "Yeah, that is pretty crazy. You're right."
"Let's leave soon."
"Ok, after one more Jack and coke. Hey, Ted!"
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