* Good mother of !@#$ my head feels like a hippo !@#$ in it. Where in the !@#$ are my tjbang sticks? Coffee! More !@#$ beer!
* Better. More beer. More coffee. Throw entertainment out.
* No, wait. You. You can stay. Hold my towel while I shower. !@#$
* Shower. !@#$. Pretend to shave. Stay awake, !@#$ it. Just keep it together. Do not look at the bed. Do not look at entertainment. Do not look at the bed and the entertainment. Do not...
* Oh my !@#$ God look at the time! !@#$!
* Do not tell me not to !@#$ panic! It's the tenth annual J. Edgar Hoover Gay Republican Drag Revue Lost Weekend and I finally get to emcee the !@#$ thing. 72 hours of dancing and partying and I can't find my clothes! !@#$! !@#$.
* Yes, you can go now! !@#$! METALMAID? Can you show this lovely ladyboy out before I shoot her a new !@#$? Thank you...
* "I will not panic. I will feel no panic. Panic is for the weak, the unprepared, and the enemy. I do not panic. I cause panic." (Repeat)
* Where the !@#$ are those black pumps? The ones that scream "I'm a ten million dollar replicant tranny whore from Titan who can stop time with a wink"? Don't tell me I threw those away the last time I felt Catholic...
* Lime green heels with rockets. Black Stilettos with built in blades. Copper goldfish bowl pumps... no weapons. Armageddon tabi. No No No.
* "I will not panic... will not... !@#$ !@#$ !@#$" (Repeat)
* Aha! Hiding under the dress I was going to wear tonight, draped over the easy chair in the living room. It's like I planned it or something. Really.
* Okay. Issy Miyake black inflatable trashbag origami dress with all the zips, bangs, and whistles? Check. Black destructopumps? Check. Properly accoutered belt of tricks? Check. Black B-52s bouffant wig? Check. Best damn black lipstick, eyeshadow, mascara, and little black stars that an unlimited government black budget can get you? Check. Check, check, doublecheck.
* Fully gassed up flying car that's going to just get me to Studio 54.1 before it sputters out and has to be refueled at significant taxpayers' expense? !@#$ me check.
* Yeah, call me just as I'm leaving... I'm on my !@#$ way, Mitzi! Jesus !@#$ Christ in an off-broadway production of 'Arsenic and Old Queens' could your timing be any worse?
* What? Yes of course I arranged for the music. What do you mean they're going to be late? You tell them if they don't show on time I'll have them sent to Mars and forced to blow the entire royal family!
* !@#$ amateurs. I sure hope I talked to the FAA about this or I'm going to have black helicopters in my face again...
* Okay, almost there. No call-outs. Must have called them somewhere in the first or second blackout.
* Anywhere to park? Of course not. Anyone been parked overnight illegally? Oh yes. And look, it's got one of the President's bumper stickers on it! Just the thing this disintegrator ray was built for... 'See a commie a nuke a commie!'
* Yeah, yeah, tell it to a cop, lady. Oh wait, I am a cop. Here's a black card. Go buy yourself a better pair of wheels. And don't park it overnight!
* Okay, long line of people waiting to get in. Good thing I'm actually emceeing this party or I'd be out there until Sunday.
* What? I'll show you ID, mother!@#$. Does this look SPYGOD's gun to you? Yes? Then you get your bald steroid-junkie dysmorphic ass out of my way or I will !@#$ it with this very weapon! Yes I will. Thank you. Better. Thank you.
* Jesus H. Christ Mother!@#$. This is worse than getting on a plane with an ostomy bag.
* Oop! Game face. Smiles and waves. Smiles and waves. (Repeat)
* Yes, I love you too... you little mincing right wing !@#$bags.
* Get up on stage. Give prepared remarks. Ten great years of being gay, out, Republican. Tired of being pigeonholed as liberals because some idiots in the party can't get over what goes on in our love lives. Smaller government means out of pocketbooks and bedrooms. (applause)
* Make small talk and sing my way through something by Dusty Springfield. Hope backup band can carry my tune in their bucket.
* (Still sound like Pete Burns. !@#$.)
* Wave and flee stage. Down water. Toot a line of amyl nitrate, coke, and speed as long as my leg. See God for two very amazing minutes without having to look in a mirror.
* !@#$ God looks kind of Hindu today. All those arms and legs following after. Oh, wait, that's everyone. What the !@#$ was in that line?
* Tjbang sticks. Oh !@#$. Left them back at The B.U.I.L.D.I.N.G. No safety net here, SPYGOD. Have a drink and roll with it.
* Have a drink. Another drink. Another. Another. (Repeat)
* The Rhythm. The Rhythm. The Rhythm / I should have changed that stupid lock. I should have thrown away the key / One you lock the target. Two you bait the line / I travel the world and the seven seas. Everybody's looking for something /
* What, is it Saturday morning already? Holy !@#$ what was in that line? And are they offering another?
* Breakfast time! Shower on the premises. Crazytime going on in the executive suite but I am not going in there as the mere sight of my alien love god penis has been known to atomically explode such happy occasions. Do not need a repeat of last year. No no no.
* Yes. Yes. !@#$ me Yes. PENIS!
* Wait, no one's running away. Why is no one... what? They're all dead?
* No, just paralyzed. Someone's hit them with curare gas. I can still smell the treefrogs, or whatever the !@#$ they make it from. Can't remember now. Probably bought it at Gimmicks R Us.
* No wait, that's not curare. That's melted glass. Window's got a hole in it. Melted clean through. Must have done it while I was showering. Sneaky bastards.
* Using SPYGOD VISION now. Not too !@#$ up from the line earlier, though I'm seeing footprints in triplicate. Oh, but the fresh ones are going out the door... down the hall... down onto the crowded dance floor... oh !@#$... and I'm naked.
* Now they're running from the magnificence of the alien love god penis. Of course. All except for one man.
* Okay, weirdo. Who are you and why are you dressed like Paul Revere's flaming skeletal twin brother? And what are you doing with that flintlock pistol that's got a smoking skull face on the business end of it?
* Skull Face pistol shoots fireballs. He's shooting it at me. Great.
* Dodge dodge dodge (Repeat)
* Oh great, a monologuer. Calls himself the Flaming Patriot. Hates the gay. Doesn't get the irony.
* Also, he's here for me, specifically, and will kill everyone here to get to me.
* Son of a !@#$ just melted Mitzi's falsies. This means war.
* Not enough time to kill him with !@#$. Alien love penis god pellets probably won't work. No weapons but bare hands but he'll fry me between here and there.
* Dodge dodge dodge (Repeat)
* Okay, okay. Improvisational time. Jump into the rafters. Run along the ceiling. Hope it holds when he's shooting it out but not too long. Just enough for him to shoot out the supports above where he is and... aha! Guess who flunked architecture in supervillain school?
* Well that was one short career. Lemme see who's under the mask... um, wait... flashing lights are never a good thing. EVERYONE OUT!
* Okay, sneaky doofus primed himself to pop. Good thinking. Sneaky doofus also has redundant trips. Good thinking. Sneaky doofus didn't count on my numerous decades of bomb-defusing expertise. Bad thinking.
* Oh man, how close can we !@#$ cut it? Ten seconds? Nothing to freeze it with. Nothing to... wait, this is all wires and C4. And C4 burns.
* Pistol still working! Yes! Light son of a !@#$ on fire! Yes! Everything melts before it detonates! Yes!
* Forgot to take his head off before I lit him on fire for later identification. !@#$.
* Oh well. Okay, EVERYONE BACK IN! Let's get this party restarted! Come on, don't let the haters ruin your good time! What's a charred corpse and half the ceiling support gone? There's dancing to be done!
* Oh for !@#$ sake! If you don't get back here and start trying to party and get laid, right here and now, the terrorists win! How about that?
* Heh, just gotta remember how to talk to a Neo Yorker.
* One nation under a groove. Getting down just for the funk of it / They've got everything from a bed to a toy. You can hang out with all the boys / You got lots of energy. Come and give that energy to me yeah / Someone to hear your prayers. Someone who cares / It's alright. Don't get uptight /
* Man, maybe shouldn't have had three more of those lines. It's Sunday afternoon already and I can't move any further that this couch we moved the dead body to. Gonna have to explain to the NYPD why we didn't report it earlier but I'm sure I can tell them to !@#$ off and let me deal with it... once I get my clothes back on.
* You know, this is the second time someone's tried to kill me using Family while I'm in town. Can't help but think some homophobic evil genius has it out for me.
* Another mystery for another day. Goodbye one of the worst Julys in history (apart from SPYGOD SCOUT SATURNALIA). Hello August. Please be good to me.
(SPYGOD is listening to Bump (Fun Lovin Criminals) and drinking Dark Horse Raspberry Ale.