London, Paris, and Gladys

London never walked into a room unannounced and anyone who didn’t know his name or what to expect stood by silently, their mouths dumbly ajar, as he would pass them. London would consciously stare straight ahead, making sure he gave no eye contact to any of the minions.

Each flawless step came with a bounce that seemed to create a gyration in your own pelvis as you watched him werk.

His black and sky-high stilettos would enter before him, allowing the party to sneak a peak at his feminine, smooth, and infinite legs.

His chiseled abs and chest would follow behind, providing that perfect fetish of gender-fucked dualities, the same fetish that attracts the most burly and most muscular gay men in the world, like London’s stout husband.

Nature fucked us up that way. We want what we are not, quite often. The latinos like the blondes, the blondes like the dark meat, the twinks like the wolves and bears, the ying, the yang, and the nature of opposites attracting. It’s a science of pheromones and semen, as simple as magnets themselves, the trade and attraction of excited and contradictory particles.

London met Ted whilst swimming in the sweat of a drugged out circuit party he MC’ed. Ted hunted for a starlet to fawn over, a pocket gay to legitimize his little man syndrome. Ted locked target on a jock ladyboy with shockingly blonde hair and red lipstick; he bought his way into London’s circle.

The relationship progressed swimmingly: sweat, drugs, events, VIP, gifts, gold, diamonds, caviar, flutes of moet, brunch, Beverly Hills, threesomes, flowers, fucking, whips, stilettos, lipstick, tiaras, celebrities, porn stars, socialites, social climbers, late nights, early mornings, tobacco, marijuana, cocaine, coke, coke, coke, coke, coke, cock, coke, cock, cake, coke.

London was able to able to secure his place as a half-drag personality, spending more money for his title than it brought in, but managing to secure marginally large party requests. The gay gene granted her with wit, if you’d truly like an explanation.

Porn stars and wehoconfidential sluts wanted to instagram London, searching for their own social validation.

A post card arrived in the mail one day. Ted received the card as London was in Phoenix, hosting a pool party for some sassy bottom socialite who would inherit Daddy’s gross credit card debt and irritable bowel syndrome.

London Ritz

Please accept this invitation to host Ms. Paris Jackson’s annual Palm Springs Pride soiree

Brought to you by Skyy vodka because that bitch is too cheap to foot the bill.

A party thrown by Ms. Paris Jackson??? What a perfect opportunity! While it may not be glamorous enough to attract other big names or rich daddies, surely some self-righteous casting directors would show up, grossly embellishing their power or pull in the Hollywood hunger games! London packed his six and a half suitcases, loaded them in a ridiculously large SUV and had a large male, in this case he’ll remain nameless, drive him to Palm Springs for the event, a week prior to the festivities.

The first day of arrival, London receives a call

Ted is in the hospital, he’s been in a terrible weight lifting accident.

Equal parts adrenaline, disappointment, cocaine, and alcohol surged through London’s veins. Even in the gratuitous and irresponsible material life, London loved Ted. He was scared, not knowing if Ted was really okay or what was going on.

Ted was London’s biggest fan, supporter, and advocate-the one, roided muscle-freak who would be there to incite London’s delusions of being a worldwide pop star.

Still, a fraction of London’s personality resented the untimely accident. The sudden and loathsome turn of events would impede London’s one shot of performing with Paris.

Despite London’s disappointment, he traveled to a florescent hospital in Burbank, swimming in disease, poverty, death, and love.

London shed his superficial opulence during his time at the hospital. Ted remained in a terrible coma during the early stage of his recovery. Ted’s family remained far away- not just literally. He only had London.

“Wake up, you teddy bear, Pig! These hospital milk shakes are going to make me fat.” London whispered in Ted’s ears as he slept.

One day, to pass the time and stop himself from going crazy, London explored the hospital.

Gladys, an 89 year old, Polish woman lie in room 227, screaming for water. No attendants seemed to be taking care of her.

“Can I help you maybe?” London asked Gladys.

“About damn time. Did the bad dye job go to your head? My throat is drier than the hospital’s meatloaf. I have never seen such negligence, really!” Gladys said.

London pulled a Dasani water from his man purse and poured it into a clear, plastic cup for Gladys.

“A purse, huh? Say what kind of man are you anyway?” Gladys asked with an eyebrow raised.

“I’m a gay male who can drop it lower than Beyonce with an ass fatter than Jennifer Lopez, honey! I’m London, nice to meet you.” London said and held out his hand for Gladys to kiss.

Gladys stared at his perfectly manicured fingers and began to laugh hysterically.

She spouted out bursts of Polish, derogatory terms but used them in a friendly and endearing way.

After a good three minute guffaw, Gladys translated her thoughts back into English, “It really takes every kind to make this world turn, I never cease to learn, really. Nice to meet you, London. I’m Gladys. Now pull up a chair, my show is on. Get the remote. No it’s across the room on the table. The OTHER table.”

London turned on the television.

“Ooh! This is it!” Gladys said excitedly. A Lifetime movie starring Shannon Doherty featuring a cameo from Amanda Bynes began to play amidst the vibrations of overtly corny background music.

“That Amanda Bynes just will NOT shut her mouth!” Gladys said.

London giggled like a little girl while sitting down on the chair and crossing his legs properly. “Nor her legs. Oh my God! I’m obsessed. I NEED to tweet or blog about this later. I’m living right now, girl. You follow Amanda? She’s outrageous! You know, Lifetime couldn’t actually get her to fulfill her contract for this film- she kept hotboxing her trailer, throwing her bong out the window when the director would knock on the door.”

“No!” gasped Gladys, “That’s horrible! How unprofessional and smoking will get you the Cancer. I do believe she has smoked all her brain cells away. Poor thing.”

“Mhm,” continued London. “So instead of filming new scenes, they changed her character to a witch and just embedded TMZ footage of Amanda at Equinox and riding the train.”

“Oh, Hollywood can be such a cruel town, especially for those with illusions of grandeur.” Said Gladys. “There was a time when men and women were famous for greatness and the pursuit of being and doing good. Somewhere insecurities and uncertainty crept into our psyche. We now obsess with vanity and the superficial. It’s like me. I know sugar is terrible for me, especially with my diabetes, but I give in. It’s completely irresponsible and stupid and to be honest, weak, but I eat cake regardless. Now I lay here in this shithole paying the consequences.”

“I’ve never really thought about that. I can see how others find the allure of riches to break their spirits. Not me though.” London said. “Oh, that Joe Manganiello is in this? Hello, ma’aam. I’d hop on that hunky mustache ride any day!”

“He isn’t gay is he?” Glady asked inquisitively.

“Well, I mean, I don’t speak German, but I can if you like, right?” London joked.

The next few days passed with ascending pace as Gladys and London grew closer. London found Gladys to be naïve, sweet, and surprisingly progressive.

Gladys made it to America during the War. In America, she lived multiple lives across the decades, as a spinster, as a healer, as a teacher, as a president, as a singer, and as a philanthropist. Her life of excitement resulted in multiple, intense loves throughout the years. As her thread neared the end though, no men were left on speed dial. London could see beauty in her eyes and would imagine every man eating from the palm of her hand throughout every carved life.

On Wednesday, London performed his routine for Gladys.

“I start out in these heels. There’s a power emitting from them, can you feel the vibrations? Look at the right heel. Madonna signed them.” London told Gladys.

“My lord! Those heels are higher than a circuit queen!” Gladys exclaimed.

London stared Gladys in the eyes, while his watered with pride. He then began laughed hysterically along with Gladys.

While laughing he said, “You’re edu-gay-tion is coming along perfectly, darling!”

London then performed a fierce dance routine intermixed with sexual puns and funny pop culture references.

Thursday was dedicated to Cover Girl.

London sat on the bed beside Gladys gently brushing foundation onto her translucent and wrinkled skin.

“Makeup is an investment to your face.” London began. “Most of these ratchet bitches are so cheap! You wouldn’t expect to strike it rich with penny stocks would you?”

London held up a mirror.

Gladys stared at her face wide-eyed.

“London, I look, beautiful.” She said sweetly and with surprise.

London smiled. “Yea, you do.”

One Friday London emitted a particular despondence that his new, close friend picked up on.

“What’s wrong, London?” Gladys asked.

“Ted’s in a coma from some weight that fell on his head and now I have to miss this HUGE show that could possibly make my career. I just feel like I’m never going to make it, you now? I feel like it’s worthless to dream any longer.” London expunged his inner workings.

“I used to work for a company in New York that created fashionable looks for the modern apartment, office, or home. I worked there as a designer, but desperately wanted to move up to a more strategic position, gaining new business and pitching capabilities.” Gladys said. “Well my boss, a snooty but sexy VP, saw me as competition; my tits were bigger.”

“Yikes, that sounds like a terrible situation!” London said.

“Maybe. But because she wanted me to fail, I had to work even harder to prove her wrong. Without her mentorship and guidance, I was left to my own devices. Luckily in my heyday, I was a smart cookie too.” Gladys began. “Well one year, as a strategic team building exercise, the company sent all VP’s and above on a trip to Paris-the city, not the whore. I desperately wanted to go, I’d always dreamt of visiting Europe, it was my homeland, after all.”

“But you weren’t a VP at this point, right?” London asked.

“Exactly. Everyone got to go except me. I thought it was so unfair. I was doing all the work anyway!” Gladys complained.

“That sucks, honey boo!” London said.

“Maybe. But while everyone was on the trip, our company president was given a last minute pitch opportunity. It was too expensive to fly team member back on such short notice, so I worked with the president directly on the pitch. It was perfect! I did an amazing job and truly impressed him!” Gladys said.

“That’s amazing! So it all worked out in the end!” London exclaimed happily.

“Maybe. I was so excited to work with the man I’d looked up to for so long. I wanted to impress him and do my best. But as we worked together, the president revealed what a sleazebag he truly was after feeling me up while we developed our pitch documents.” Gladys revealed.

“Oh my God! That’s terrible. So it turned out to be even worse…” London said, confused as to where this story was going.

“No! I declined his advance. It was awkward, but we won the new client and I was promoted to VP.” Gladys said.

“What the hell!?! So what happened after that?” London said.

“Well, the bitch came back from Paris and made my life hell. The president and her ended up running off to the bowels of New York for a tragic, suburban relationship, and I was approached by another company for a job offer, this time: president.”

“Essentially, you got everything you wanted, then. But what does this have to do with me??” London asked.

“I did, so I declined the offer and moved to Paris to become a teacher. Then I got everything I wanted. The point is, you are going to have all these things happen in your life. In the moment, some are going to feel amazing and some will feel like a boulder has fallen on you, but look at me, what I thought was good ended up not being so. All the shit that disappointed me? That’s what progressed my life in positive ways. In life, we often see that what we thought were the worst moments of our lives turn out to be what changes them in the most impactful ways.” Gladys said.

London thought about this as he slept that night, covered in a paper-thin blanket and curled up in a hospital love seat.

At 2:31 AM Ted awoke from his coma.

“Babe.” He said. London responded with a snore.

“BABE!” He yelled. London covered his head with a blanket.

Ted got up from his hospital bed and unhooked his IV.

“BABE!” He yelled directly into London’s ear as he picked him up like a baby.

The morning was one of the best London ever had.

The news that morning covered Paris’s Palm Springs Soiree. Apparently her star power waned so much that not even the talent for the party showed up. It was an absolute failure.

“Gladys! Gladys! Guess what?!? I saved myself from embarrassment with this party. There can be only ONE star city in this town. Glady-“ London yelled excitedly as he rushed into room 227.

A nursed was rolling up the sheets on the bed.

“What’s going on?” London asked.

“I’m cleaning the room for the next patient.” The nurse said.

“Where’s Gladys, this is Gladys’s room, where are you moving her??” London panicked.

The nurse looked at London and her heart broke a little.

“Honey, Gladys passed away at 2:31 AM last night.”

At first, London felt immediate and unrelenting depression. Then he began to smile, chuckle, and laugh. Gladys had given her final lesson.

Ironically, an agent’s wife was staying in room 226 that week for a routine surgery. He witnessed London’s rehearsal and saw potential. London and him have a meeting at his swanky Manhattan agency next week.