We Queans Must
Stick Together
Louie Crew Clay
On my way to an evening Mass for gay people,
I paused in Penn Station for a Big Mac.
All of a sudden, two young boys, about 16,
started saying in a screaming whisper,
“That’s a man. That’s a man.”
The person in question, in a lovely red dress
but slightly tattered wig and high black stockings,
rushed with his tray to the far side of the room,
and turned his back on all the commotion.
“You need to shave a bit better! That’s a man!
That’s a man! Why don’t you buy a new wig!
That’s a man........”
This went on for at least 20 times.
Most of the help behind the counter were in hysterics.
Most of the customers were tired old people like me.
The heckler and his sidekick wore McDonald’s clothing,
but seemed off duty, not eating, but idling about.
Finally I had enough. “Little boy,” I said sternly.
He was livid as he glared at me.
“Does McDonald’s pay you to insult the customers!?”
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