The Wicked Rex of the West by Daron Kappauff & Ward Nerdlo

Author:Daron Kappauff & Ward Nerdlo [Kappauff, Daron & Nerdlo, Ward]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hold My Beer Publishing
Published: 2022-01-17T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9:

Who’s THAT Bitch?

Back in her version of the world, Dot had been a huge fan of RuPaul’s Drag Race, so when her eyes fluttered open, and she saw a garishly painted face floating above a neck with a prominent Adam’s apple, Dot thought she might be dreaming of her favorite show.

“Good morning, my pretty,” said the face. Blue tilted ovals were painted around the eyes, while the cheeks were bright red. The foundation wasn’t really white but close, which was in contrast to the deep melanin of the rest of their exposed skin. Atop a bright green beehive of hair sat a tiny black witch’s hat, no bigger than a 5oz can of tomato juice.

The apparent drag queen seemed to levitate away, and it took Dot a second to realize that they’d been kneeling beside her and had simply risen to standing. They wore a black half-tank, on top of which was a black half-jacket made of leather, with what seemed to be jade jewels for buttons. Across the front of the tank were two words, partially cut off by the flaps of the jacket: -AT BIT-. Dot didn’t need to be a Rhodes scholar to know what the missing letters must have been. Peeking from the bustline of the tank were two beige silicone pads that didn’t quite match the queen’s brown skin, giving the appearance of an A-cup chest. Their knee-length hoop skirt was also jade, with white fringe accents; tank and skirt together framed perfectly chiseled six-pack abs. From their wrist dangled a set of keys that tinkled lightly together.

“Who the fuck are you?” Dot said, her voice more groan than speech.

“Me? Oh, I’m nobody. It’s you who’re interesting.” The queen squinted and glared. “Tell me, pretty, who are you, and why do you have on my sister’s shoes?”

Dot was on her back, so she sat up to get a better look at the shoes she wore. She shrugged, as if she had no idea where the paw-protectors had come from.

“You can at least tell me if my sister has moved on,” they said, their voice soft and friendly, belying the seething hatred in their brown, almost black eyes. The queen smoldered with a tangible anger. Dot could feel it coming off them in waves, like sunbaked asphalt.

“If you mean, is the bitch who was wearing these shoes when I dropped a dumpster on her head still alive, then I’m gonna have to answer in the negative. She’s deader than dirt and twice as flat.”

Dot did not expect the smile that stretched across the extraordinarily made-up face. The smile did not reach the eyes, though, lending an eerie quality to the queen’s countenance. Dot wasn’t frightened by much—not on sight, anyway; actions scared her far more than stares and words—but this bitch sent ice through her veins.

“You killed her.” It wasn’t a question. “I loved her, you know. You may be as cold and callous as you wish, but you should know that I intend to return the favor to everyone you love.

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