 Writer Jak
Klinikowski with Episode 6 in the Adventures of Ineeda Willingbottom, "Roswell Invaded by UFQ (Unidentified Flaming Queen)" Let Jak know what you think of his continuing story of Ineeda Willingbottom...  |
 “You know, Ineeda,” said Terry’s
Grandmother, Iva Ruth, “my third husband, the count, used to love
wearing my panties and under-things. He said it made him appreciate me
more.”Iva Ruth and Ineeda were half way through their fourth margarita and already treating each other like long lost sisters. The old gal loved the salted cocktails and always served them as an icebreaker. Iva Ruth was a woman with more than a few years on her, but she grasped her glass with a strong, beautifully manicured, hand. Her fingernails were polished a bright fire-hydrant red to match the shade of her shiny lipstick. Terry and his Uncle Pete made up the rest of the foursome lounging on the ranch’s large covered patio. “Well, I started that way,” confessed Ineeda, “but there was no stopping me after I had on the underwear. Once I saw the foundation garments in place, I couldn’t stop until the project was complete.” Iva Ruth laughed along with Terry and Uncle Pete, but she never stopped watching her quiet, grinning grandson. Terry’s puppy-dog gaze at Ineeda reminded her of how Terry’s father used to look at her daughter. Iva Ruth prided herself on her ability to spot good old-fashioned romantic attraction, but she figured a blind man could see how in love Terry was with Ineeda. She wanted her boy to be happy, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t worried. She wanted to know as much about Ineeda as she possibly could. “So, Ineeda,” asked Iva Ruth, “is that how your road to glory began, with an infatuation for women’s lingerie?” Ineeda, caught completely off guard, spewed her margarita clear across the deck. “You sure know how to get right to the point,” said Ineeda. “If you’re gonna marry my Terry, I want to know all about you, and it seems to me the best way to find out is to flat out ask.” “Fair enough, Iva Ruth, fair enough.” “If you two are fixing to dish up some ancient history,” interrupted Uncle Pete, “I’m gonna head into the casa and whip us up another pitcher of hooch.” Iva Ruth’s slender, slow moving cowpoke of an older brother lifted himself out of his chair and picked up the empty pitcher off the glass-top table everyone was sitting around. “I don’t much care about a person’s past, Ineeda. It’s what I see in front of me that matters, and I swear you’re just about the prettiest picture I’ve seen around these parts in quite a spell.” “Uncle Pete, you better quit,” chuckled Terry, “or I’m sure enough gonna get jealous.” “Well, son, if I were thirty years younger I might just give you something to be jealous about.” Uncle Pete shot Ineeda a wink and moseyed though the sliding glass doors, headed for the bar. “I never wanted to be a real woman,” said Ineeda. “I have no problem with the equipment God gave me. I always dreamed of being a man in a dress. I thought it was so, I don’t know, glamorous.” Feeling a need to paint a complete picture, Ineeda started her story with her parents. Ineeda’s Dad, Max, was a jazz pianist working his way through SMU when he met Peggy, at a college mixer. After graduation they got married and he took a commission in the Air Force. They’d pretty much given up on having kids when little Ineeda, born Jake Winkowski, came along. “You were an only child?” asked Iva Ruth. “Yep,” said Ineeda, “and I was pretty much an after-thought at that. My father was already a Major when I was born. Right from the start, I was a very curious kid, and practically before I could walk, my need-to-know led me right into Mama’s closet. I loved playing dress-up in her high heels.” At the time of the Stonewall riots, Ineeda said her father was stationed in Berlin. Max was a full Colonel by then, and Peggy was a swinging officer’s wife. When Ineeda saw the pictures in the German newspapers of all the divine men dressed as women, rioting on Christopher Street in Greenwich Village, it was like an alarm went off inside her head. To say she was intrigued would be an understatement. All at once, the seeds of female illusion were planted. Ineeda’s Mom didn’t want to go to Germany, but once she got there, she fell in love with Berlin, wall and all. The Colonel and his wife loved to party and they were always going to trendy night clubs. Gay bars were springing up all over the city, and they heard about a new cabaret called the “Chez Nous,” where all the employees were men in drag, from the dishwashers and the waiters to the stage entertainers. They had to go. The morning after their first visit to the club, Ineeda found the program from the show on the dining room table. It was full of colorful pictures of the entertainers in their flamboyant costumes. Ineeda was mesmerized. Even though she was only eight, Ineeda knew immediately where her destiny lay. It was the first step on her path to becoming a professional queen. “Of course,” said Ineeda, “it was a good thing that I wanted to be an entertainer as much as I wanted to spend my life in nylons. Let’s face it. There aren’t a lot of career choices for someone with my disposition, shall we say. I don’t exactly fit into the traditional box, if you know what I mean, and that’s fine.” Ineeda was relieved she had no aspirations to be a doctor or lawyer, not that she couldn’t have made it happen if that’s what she’d wanted. Ineeda was nothing, if not determined. No, Ineeda wanted to be a bright shining drag queen and that was exactly what she was. Besides, doctors and lawyers wore the most God awful boring clothes, way too much black and navy blue. “I appreciate your honesty,” said Iva Ruth. “I imagine it hasn’t been easy for you. How did your parents take it?” “They were very liberal-minded people, but still, it took my folks a long time to understand the person I was. But they loved me, and once they came to terms with me, they did their best to be encouraging.” Ineeda’s, Mama, had loads of fashion sense, and she could sew like nobodies business. She was practically Ineeda’s full time seamstress, until she died five years ago. Max lived in Ft. Worth now, but still managed to make it to Ineeda’s shows every once in a while. He even played piano for a few of her live performances. Most of the time Ineeda lip-synced, but every now and then she channeled Ethel Merman and belted out a few show tunes. “I’ve got to tell you,” said Iva Ruth, “you two have a mighty tough road ahead of you, but it appears my Terry has lost his heart to a sure-fire, one-of-a-kind character Ineeda, and there’s nothing I hold in higher esteem than individuality. Here’s to you both, I wish you all the luck in the world” Iva Ruth raised her glass, looked first at her grandson and then Ineeda, and demurely drained its contents. Using her napkin, she wiped the tell-tale salt from the corners of her lips. “I wonder what’s taking your Uncle Pete so long with that fresh pitcher. I better go check on him.”  Iva Ruth
got up, somewhat less than steadily, adjusted her bright red bouffant
wig, and strolled from the veranda into the large ranch house. Her
oversized, flowery print caftan fluttered in the slight breeze.“See,” whispered Terry, “didn’t I tell you she’d love you?” “Yes, you did, baby, and I have to admit, it looks like you were right.” Terry leaned over and kissed Ineeda on the lips. “Okay, you two, save that stuff for the bedroom,” said Uncle Pete. He was standing by the entrance to the patio with a fresh batch of margaritas, a huge smile on his face and a newcomer by his side. “Look who’s here, Terry, it’s Sammy.” Ineeda gasped as the prettiest diesel dyke she’d ever seen strode up to Terry, and gave him a tight bear hug. Sammy was Terry’s nineteen-year-old cousin. Their fathers had been brothers. Once Sammy let him loose, Terry proceeded to introduce Ineeda. “Oh I’ve heard all about you,” said Sammy. Sammy looked directly into Ineeda’s eyes, and shook her hand with a firm grip. The young girl idolized her cousin, Terry, so she was just a bit suspicious of this dolled-up newcomer. “In fact, I’m here because of you.” “I beg you pardon,” said Ineeda. “Somehow the preacher done heard all about you and Terry. He’s threatening to make a huge stink about the two of you all over town, particularly at Iva Ruth’s place on Main Street.” “Who’s the preacher?’ asked Ineeda. “My father,” said Sammy, “the most fundamental fundamentalist this side of Oral Roberts University. He’s sworn he was gonna get Terry and his grandmother for years.” “Get them for what?” “My Daddy couldn’t stomach his holier-than-thou horse shit and didn’t leave him one red cent,” said Terry. “That, and he blames Terry for my being gay,” added Sammy. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” said Ineeda. “Terry’s uncle, Sammy’s father, holds a grudge because he got left out of the will. Plus he thinks Terry had something to do with Sammy being a lesbian.” “Yep,” said Sammy and Terry. “I don’t understand how that has anything to do with me.” “It’s that damn Rosemary Winslow,” said Iva Ruth, returning to the patio. “When you and Terry came by my museum on your way into town this morning, Rosemary was in the gift shop buying a t-shirt for her nephew. She was all eyes and ears about you, Ineeda. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.” “I’m used to getting a lot of attention from strangers, Iva Ruth.” “Well, this particular stranger just happens to be Toby’s choir master, the fastest gossip slinger in the west.” “Toby?” asked Ineeda. “The right Reverend Tobias T Turley, pastor of the Four Square Jesus Forever Chapel, the most disgustingly mean-spirited congregation in Roswell,” said Iva Ruth. “He’s been determined to ruin this family for years, and I imagine he thinks he’s found the perfect opportunity to do it now.” “I’m not sure what I expected from this visit when Terry brought me here,” said Ineeda, “but I didn’t expect to make trouble for his family. I am so sorry.” “Don’t you blame yourself, honey,” said Uncle Pete as he poured everyone a fresh margarita, “trouble’s Tobias Turley’s middle name. If he’s not writing hate mail to the local paper, he’s leading little demonstrations at the Planned Parenthood offices, emphasis on the little.” “That’s right,” said Iva Ruth. “His church is not only the most backwards around, it’s also about the smallest. Mind you, Roswell has its share of narrow-minded, tea-totaling, Christian bigots, but most folks around here are very friendly, very live and let live. Toby’s church is so far to the right that it’s a joke to all, but a vocal few.” “Still, I didn’t come here to cause problems,” said Ineeda. “Of course you didn’t,” said Terry. He put his arm over Ineeda’s shoulder. Ineeda leaned into Terry, shaking ever so slightly. Back home, in Dallas, nobody dared to give her any crap like this. If anybody did, she’d cause them so much grief, they’d wish they’d never popped out of their mommas. But she wasn’t home. She was in a remote New Mexico town surrounded by people she’d only just met. True, her cowboy was by her side, but she wasn’t sure that was enough to counter the threat posed by his Uncle. “I’m sorry I had to be the one to bring y’all this news,” said Sammy. “I had to warn you. I didn’t want you to be caught by surprise tomorrow.” “Tomorrow?” asked Iva Ruth. “My father’s planning as big a protest as he can muster outside your UFO museum and gift shop. When I left the house, he was churning through his Rolodex rounding-up every bible-beater he could get his hands on. He told them to be at the museum in the morning at 9:00 to protest unholy sin and the abomination brought upon Roswell by Iva Ruth, and her wicked grandson Terry.” “Abomination brought upon Roswell,” cackled Uncle Pete, “now if that don’t beat all. Next Tobias will be claiming Ineeda has six arms, tentacles, and comes from outer space” Uncle Pete and Iva Ruth exchanged knowing glances and both began laughing. “I don’t see what’s so funny,” said Ineeda. “Darlin,” said Uncle Pete, “if you fart and sneeze at the same time, Tobias Turley will scream it’s an abomination. The man is a crackpot, and everybody in this town with half a brain knows it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad Sammy gave us a heads up, but I don’t think this is gonna turn into anything we can’t handle.” “Uncle Pete’s right, sweetheart,” said Terry. “We’ve had plenty of practice dealing with Uncle Tobias.” “I don’t know,” said Ineeda. “I, for one, do know,” said Iva Ruth. “I’ve live in this community a hell of a lot longer then that damn preacher, and I’ve got more influence than he does.” Iva Ruth settled back down at the table and picked up her fresh margarita. “Y’all get over here and sit. I want to propose a toast.”  Everyone
returned to their seats, and Sammy took the empty chair next to Uncle
Pete. Even though she was technically underage, it was a special
occasion, and she too got a glass.“Here’s to the newest member of my family,” said Iva Ruth hoisting her drink. “May she grow as fond of us as we already have of her.” “Here, here,” came the response around the table. Ineeda could feel a rather large lump forming in her throat. “Now,” said Iva Ruth, “someone, fetch me my cordless phone. I’ve got some calls of my own to make.” —Jak Klinikowski
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