Wolfy Chai

The Escape

As their truck was pulling away from the driveway and the girls witnessed Sue being slammed into the back of a car, they thought they had seen the last of her. However, a short time after crossing into the American border in Tijuana, Veronica received a notification from Zelle. Despite not having her phone number or a cell phone, Sue somehow managed to send a payment request from the women’s penitentiary where she was imprisoned for $2.99 to cover the matzah ball soup expenses.

Veronica swiftly utilized her big fat thumb and hit “block” on Sue’s profile, which featured Sue loading an AK-47. Unfortunately, by blocking Sue, Veronica triggered the deployment of spyware called “Python” to hack her phone. The icon of Sergeant Sue in military regalia appeared across the screen with red eyes. She was laughing in a deep, hoggish voice. Then a countdown began: 10, 9, 8, 7 . . .

Veronica and Ruby did not know what to do. Out of an abundance of caution, Veronica threw the phone out the window. The phone smacked into a Wendy’s sign they had just passed and instantly exploded upon contact, sending the ginger’s braids flying in opposite directions.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Veronica gasped. “Who the F was that crazy b*tch?” she continued.
Ruby chimed in, “I do not know, but at least she let me borrow some tampons for the road because I was starting my period.”
“What do you mean? I think you need to toss them too, just in case,” Veronica bargained.
Ruby hastily replied, biting her tongue, “UGH okay fine, I will… but I need something in my coochie; I am feeling moist already.”

As a substitute, Veronica gave her a gently used McDonald’s Happy Meal® napkin that was partially soaked in grease.
“Are you kidding me? I am going to need something more absorbent for my heavy flows,” Ruby chirped.
Veronica, having the final word as usual, replied, “Well, you are just going to have to deal with it until we get to Vegas.”
Admitting defeat, Ruby stuffed the swab into her virgin forest for the remainder of the voyage.

The girls didn’t see any sign of life for the next several hours. When it started to get dark, the two decided to camp on the shores of a place called “Lake Meade.” Veronica was fed up with camping. She had grown accustomed to living a life of comfort in Brazil at the behest of her handlers. She started to squawk: “It smells like kitty piss out here. This is outrageous. I am just so sick of sleeping on the floor. I deserve so much more than this measly existence.”

Veronica noticed that Ruby wasn’t listening and frowned in frustration. She saw that Ruby had started wading into the dark waters of the lake with a flashlight. She had to take a dump and didn’t want it to stink up the camp even more than it already was. While she was crouching over to relieve herself, she accidentally fell back into the black waters. While she was feeling through the mud to get her footing, she came across something she thought was a rock. She grabbed the rock, but for some reason it wouldn’t budge.

Veronica shined the flashlight her way to see if Ruby was all right. By this time, Ruby finally managed to dislodge the rock, which, as it turned out, wasn’t a rock at all — it was human remains. Ruby held up a skull and spinal cord that was still loosely attached, in abject horror. Then, amidst the shocking discovery, they both heard a low growl coming from the bushes. The two screamed in unison. Ruby threw the corpse back into the water, and she started flailing like a school of panicked sardines toward the shore. On her way, she stumbled over heaps of bones that she had previously thought were just rocks.

The run in the water started exhausting Ruby. Like a drowning wildebeest struggling to stay afloat as a Nile crocodile pulled her under, Ruby barely made it to the shore before collapsing. Veronica fired up the truck, throwing a life raft with a rope out the window for Ruby to hang on to. Veronica slammed on the gas, and Ruby’s soaked body forced the trunk to swing open, causing the wads of cash to evaporate before their very eyes. But it was too late to go back now.

As soon as they made it out of Lake Meade National Recreation Area and arrived at the paved section of the road, Ruby was reeled back in. At this point, Ruby’s body was caked from head to toe with a mixture of dust and rogue tumbleweeds from bobbing around on the road.

“I am going to kill you,” Ruby spat. She reclaimed her usual position in the passenger seat, and the two ended up falling asleep in the car.

Las Vegas

The next morning, they kept driving toward the city. It wasn’t long before they saw the iconic Las Vegas Strip unfold in front of them. They had heard about this place from being in the burlesque industry. It was supposedly a gold mine for talent of the more risqué type. The girls’ eyes were glimmering at the sight.

In order to leave a lasting impression, the girls knew they needed to get serious makeovers. Veronica’s thick hair had turned into the texture of a worn doormat. Ruby’s usual butter-soft skin was now ragged and littered with blemishes. Needless to say, this was their first order of business.

They happened upon an enterprise entitled The Fat Kitty Saloon, where they collided with a herd of orange women from the Jersey Shore walking out hooting and hollering. They were headed toward their enormous bachelorette party bus, which started wobbling back and forth as it began to exceed its capacity — because they needed to get a discounted deal, of course.

Several girls from the entourage popped a champagne cap open, and the bubbly started exploding from every other window. The stench of cigarettes and Mary Jane began lacing the street.

Ruby and Veronica had never seen women who looked this fabulous in their lives — enormous teased-out curled hair, orange skin, and skunk-black eyeliner. They knew exactly where they needed to go.

The first stage was the scrub-down. Every inch of the girls’ dirty bodies was scrubbed. Blasts of water shooting out of the wall squirted every inch. A boil of water even erupted under their feet to ensure that their soiled undercarriages were as clean as fine glassware.

The second stage involved patting them dry and shoving the girls into a holding tent to get spray tanned. The two were zipped up, and a hose of tan liquid coated their bodies. They ended up a nice deep orange hue by the end of it.

Then the girls were swirled off into salon chairs. They underwent hair treatments, nail polishing, pedicures, and even anal bleaching — everything was done. By the time they were finished at Fat Kitty’s, the two walked out looking like a pair of horny orange-faced lionesses from an 80’s disco club.

Now that they were spruced up, the hunt for work began. The word on the street was that a place aptly named The Temptation Garden was the hottest spot in town for people in their line of work. The entrance had towering golden pillars that were guarded by a pair of demonic-looking gargoyles with bulging eyes and long, pointy tongues.

A man in black shades opened the dark glass doors for them, and they entered a room covered with velvet. The bar had lava lamps, fog machines, and neon lighting. There was a massive disco ball hanging over the illuminated dance floor where fellow guests were breakdancing. When they went to order extra dirty martinis at the bar, one of the fog machines blasted Ruby in the face.

She immediately fell back flat on her ass.
“Jesus Christ,” Ruby remarked after the shock melted off her face.
“You aren’t going to mess this up for me, b*tch, so get up now!” Veronica spat back, clearly embarrassed that they were already making a scene.

They finally got their drinks, and the lights started to dim. The disco ball retracted, and the stage lights lit up. The featured show of the evening finally began. A series of men on either side of the catwalk started dramatically banging Japanese Taiko drums as if they were preparing for war. As the rhythm of the drums reached a fever pitch, with one final bang, the room fell silent. Someone in the audience let out an audible gasp in response. The lights flashed toward the curtain while it opened, revealing an immaculate golden throne room setup.

A very large woman was sitting comfortably on the throne with her legs up, fanning herself with the biggest fan they had ever seen. The woman was covered in pearls of all kinds — white, gold, black. She radiated health, wealth, and abundance. A mesmerizing white peach aura surrounded her — the hallmark of a true star.

And then, she began to speak.
“Hello dears, you can call me Pearl, Pearl Royale,” she said in an impossibly deep and seductive voice.
“Hit it!” she shouted.

The band started playing “When You’re Good to Mama” from the hit Broadway musical Chicago.

While performing her act, which involved being lifted by a banquet of men and her effortlessly galavanting across the stage, the girls were in complete awe.

Dazzled by the performance, they knew this was the place for them. At first, they were awestruck; however, it wasn’t long before their blood started to boil with envy. After all, Pearl Royale was more beautiful than Veronica and more fabulous than Ruby. Pearl was the epitome of opulence; the Magna Carta of performers; the object of everyone’s devotion, somehow inhabiting a single mortal’s body. The sight of Pearl inflicted the girls with temporary blindness that didn’t begin dissipating until ten minutes after her act was complete.

After the show, the girls managed to squirrel their way into the dressing room. They spotted Pearl Royale taking off her makeup in front of a vintage showgirl mirror. Pearl caught them with her eyes, which had as much precision as a peregrine falcon eying its prey from a thousand feet above.

“Hello girls,” Pearl said while yawning, clearly unimpressed by the company. “You two must be new drag queens; I haven’t seen you around here. Did you enjoy the show?”

“Drag queens?!” they both thought. But instead of saying anything, Ruby and Veronica just nodded their heads.

“Good. Well, what can I do for you?” Pearl asked. Ruby shifted to a more engaged and friendly tone.

Veronica said, “We want to know how you did it — reach such heights?”
“Well, you have to go to my handler for that one. She is the one who books all the girls here,” Pearl said while removing her wig.

The two gasped, finally realizing that what resided behind the makeup and the glamour was not a woman but a man.

“WHAT! WAIT A MINUTE — YOU ARE A MAN?!” Veronica said, clearly humiliated.
“I figured that you were also drag queens — this is a gay club after all… but I’m guessing not. Well, that is unfortunate,” Pearl said through her laughter.
“Well look, huns,” she continued, “the only thing that matters is you are passing.”
“PASSING!” Veronica hissed. “Maybe this one is passing,” she said, pointing at Ruby, “but me? ME? NEVER!” she said in disgust.

“Maybe it is the hideous makeup and the tacky orange tan that makes your skin look like fruit leather,” Pearl effortlessly snapped back. “You didn’t happen to end up at The Fat Kitty Saloon, did you?” Pearl said, clearly feeding on the two’s moment of weakness.

Ruby and Veronica conceded.

“As a heads up, Jersey orange doesn’t sell well here. If you look like that, my handler will put both of your asses in the clearance pile,” Pearl remarked. At this point, her patience was drying up, and she was totally done with them.

“Look, here is my handler’s address. Her name is Daffodilla Crumple.” She scribbled down some letters on a napkin and called security to come toss the two girls out.

After they were tossed into the street, the two walked back to the motel where they were staying. They were finally able to sleep in real beds for the first time in weeks — well, ever since that stint with Sergeant Sue. Although, they were pretty sure they were infested with bed bugs — or was it scabies… one of the two.

The two crawled into bed in their pajamas and flicked on the TV. The first thing that happened to be on showed an emergency alert notifying that a bandit by the name of Sergeant Sue had escaped from a detention facility where they had locked her up and was now said to be heading toward the U.S. border.

The TV showed security footage of Sue climbing over the wall after being held up by a chain of fellow inmates. As Sue made it to the top, the prison warden released the local pack of attack hounds into the yard. Sue saw them coming and immediately kicked off the girl who was climbing up next, causing her to fall into the pile of ferocious hounds below that mauled her to death.

Ruby and Veronica looked at each other in disbelief. Then, all of a sudden, they heard rustling in the wall — rats.

“Hell no,” Ruby squeaked.
“Well, what are we going to do?” Veronica replied, being completely over the day.
“I think we will just have to suck it up for the night. Tomorrow is a big day,” she finished, turning off the lights.

The clock struck 2:33 a.m. Ruby was sound asleep when she felt a furry rodent traverse up her legs. She woke only when it started to nibble on her nose. The rat gulped down its first bite out of her nose, causing Ruby to scream louder than she had ever screamed. The rat went flying across the room.

Ruby went to war, taking out a baseball bat and hitting the rat every time it attempted to attack her and infect her with its rabies. However, the rat seemed to be indestructible. Every time she hit it, it seemed to reanimate and come back for another attack. It turned out Ruby was too good of a snack to resist.

After 15 minutes, Ruby managed to corner the rat but tripped over her own shoelaces in the process, causing her to tumble to the ground. The rat quickly scurried into a hole, presumably because it realized it had won — it had defeated the enemy.

In the meantime, Veronica was sound asleep — dreaming about how fabulous she would soon look being back up on the stage again. The crowd going wild as she performed her usual acrobatics. Men gifting her with an array of exotic presents. Road trips with a real man at the wheel instead of being held hostage by Ruby’s greasy fingers.

Ruby, however, didn’t get another wink of sleep. If anything, she had night terrors that the rat would come back to bite her.

The Meeting of Daffodilla Crumple

The next morning Veronica woke up with her skin as soft as a wedding dove, her eyes vital, and her cheeks rosy. She had gotten the best sleep of her life. In contrast, as a product of her tumultuous night, Ruby woke up looking like a black-and-blue rag doll with a bite mark on the tip of her nose.

“What happened to you last night?” Veronica said, almost as if she were just coming out of a spa treatment.
Ruby replied, “I don’t want to talk about it — look — slap on some makeup and let’s go. I can’t be here any longer.”

A few hours later, the girls were headed to the handler’s mansion — 223 East Heavenly Drive. They knocked on the door, which creaked open on its own. The two entered a gallery that had checkered black-and-white tile flooring and a grand staircase. The lights were all off besides several candles on the stairs that made the room barely glow. Instead of any people, they were directed by a sign that said “This Way,” with arrows pointing up the stairs.

They climbed to the top and found themselves facing a hallway. Another sign told them to turn left down the hall. Veronica followed the end of the dark hallway to a mysterious door where blistering blue light was seeping out of the cracks. She grasped the handle and, as she pulled on it, released a torrent of hot steam. The room appeared to be a fully equipped Roman spa. The steam was so thick Veronica had to swat through the clouds in order to see what was through it. She first saw huge gold-encrusted marble columns on either side of what looked like a giant altar.

On the altar lay a giant woman. At first, Veronica started hearing a deep chuckle coming from the woman enshrouded by the thick layer of mist.
“Come here, come here, my dears,” she said in an even deeper and more sultry timbre, her finger urging them to approach the altar.

As they got closer, the woman came into clear view. It was Mizz Daffodilla Crumple — an obese feline sitting in a giant bathtub with scalding hot water waterfalling into the bath to maintain a consistently and exceedingly hot temperature. Her head was wrapped up in an enormous white spa towel. She was completely naked, but the bubbles managed to shield their eyes from suffering any permanent damage.

Her pale white feet were resting out of the tub. She had an active team of maids she referred to as her “finger maidens” massaging her feet and feeding her cans of one of her favorite foods — sardines, which coated her fat fingers in the repugnant odor of oxidizing fish carcasses.

As she started speaking, the odor became more pronounced.

“My, my, what have we here? Welcome, my dears, how can mommy help you?” Her tongue seemed to rattle like a snake when she spoke, taking delight in savoring every syllable that came out of her mouth. Her nose dipped under the water and blew bubbles for a moment. Her voice carried with it indomitable authority — a knowing that at all times she remained in control — she held the power.

The girls were paralyzed, unable to get a word out. Daffodilla’s eyes cratered inward in delight, knowing very well that she had crippled the girls’ inner defense system.

“What’s the matter, dear, cat’s got your tongue?” Daffodilla floated. Her mouth contorted into an extremely deep smile, revealing the true extent of the width of her voluminous lips.
“Don’t worry,” she continued after a longer pause, “I don’t bite.” She turned her head to Veronica and winked.

“Ok, ok,” Veronica started, “my sister and I need some extra cash and I was hoping—”

Daffodilla sharply cut her off.

“Uh, uh, uh,” she said, shaking her head scoldingly. “You need not say one more word, dear. I know exactly how to help,” she said with a grin.

Whispering to one of her maidens, Daffodilla instructed them to go bring her “the book.” Still naked, Daffodilla stood up, got out of her bath, and started showering the soap off her body. The maidens helped her navigate getting out and fetched her a fresh bathrobe. She sat down on her makeup chair and was handed a giant leather-bound book.

She blew the dust off it, put on tiny reading glasses that made her resemble Benjamin Franklin or some other founding father, and started flipping through the pages, which contained a detailed schedule and client list.

“I have the perfect line of clients for you, dear. Let’s book for tomorrow night, eh?” she said, briefly looking up from the pages to inspect their faces. They complied with a small nod.

At this point, Daffodilla’s team of maidens had gone into full swing, shifting their focus to beautifying and getting Daffodilla dressed. The team patted down her face with powder, slapped on her notorious purple eyeshadow and rose-red lipstick. She was slid into a loose-fitting, paisley silk gown. Giant pearl necklaces were strung along her neck, and her fingers slid into gold rings fashioned with giant rubies.

Finally, the maidens started spraying Daffodilla with floral perfumes so strong that Ruby’s eyes turned red and began tearing up uncontrollably. While she lit up a cigar, Daffodilla asked her maidens, “Do we have any clam chowder or shrimp cocktails to give our guests? I would love that right about now.”

The clam chowder arrived very cold and had a distinct fishy stench to it, so Veronica politely rejected her bowl.
Daffodilla said, “Well, more for me!” letting out a little chuckle.

Ruby, on the other hand, obliged, stirring around the bowl and pretending it was delicious.

After staring with her eyes opened widely at the girls for a minute or two, Daffodilla’s hospitality quickly evaporated.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, dear. I am sure I’ll be seeing a lot more of you around. Good luck tomorrow!” she said, motioning for her maidens to escort the two out of her house.

They were now back at square one, starting off at the bottom of the totem pole. But at least they had one appointment on the books — blissfully oblivious to what was to come…