"I'm one of the freaks, the faggots, the geeks, the savages, rogues, rebels, dissident devils, artists, martyrs, infidels" – Otep, Rise, Rebel, Resist.
She sat down daintily in the chair, carefully folding her dress under her to prevent any revelations. She was wearing a white sun-dress that was just short enough to be comfortable while being entirely respectable. Respectable was practically a lifestyle for her, almost a religion in fact. She clung to it like a barnacle to a tugboat, it was an anker of reassurance in a world that scared the living daylights out of her. Her shoulder-length hair hung down neatly from behind an Alice-band in light blue, and there was a daisy in her hair. Like her, it was slightly wilted.
She had a sparkly smile, sparkly eyes and a perky nose, her shoes were flat and sensible and respectable white satin creations with light blue bows. She looked in fact, like she just stepped off the set of a Jane Austin movie. Sarah Elizabeth Crowley was everything society demanded a woman to be, in 1895. Too bad she was living in 2012, but she seemed fairly oblivious to the fact anyway. She folder her hands on her lap and waited for things to start with much the same enthusiasm that a vampire might show for a garlic festival.
The lights dimmed and a spotlight shone on the stage. A waittress came over and offered her a drink: "Cover your shame woman !" she exclaimed, continuing: "And alcohol is a scourge to the soul that turns good men into scoundrels and make their hands wander.", the waitress gave her a sidelong grin, it had never occurred to her that anybody still used a word like "scoundrels". "Honey if you're refferring to my tits, I am not even slightly ashamed of them – I work here because I love being able to earn money without having to cover them up, as for alcohol making men's hands wander… I can but hope." she said with a lascivious wink.
"Of course you don't ! Everybody who works here is being exploited by the evils of Satan !"
"Sugar, what the hell are you doing here with an attitude like that ?"
"I came to minister to the fallen, as is my duty !" declaimed Sarah and held up a Bible like some kind of talisman.
"I've heard of Christians complaining about clubs like this from the pulpit, never seen one actually come inside to 'minister' as you put it though…"
"Did not our saviour eat with the moneylenders and the whores ?"
"Yeah I remember something like that, but if you use that word in here again Billy over there will toss you on the sidewalk, and you really don't want that pretty white dress on the sidewalks we got here. There' s more puke than concrete in their construction by now."
Sarah grimaced. "Could I interest you in one of these bible-verse bookmarks maybe ?" she said sweetly.
The waitress shook her head, "Not right now, you just stay here nice and quiet and behave sugar. If you don't cause a fuss, we won't have any trouble."
"I do not cause fusses."
"You're from that new tent-revival group that's been shacking up outside of town aren't you ?"
"The Reverent Salinger Ministries." Sarah corrected her haughtily.
"Yeah, I read about you lot, fundamentalist maniacs the paper called you. Your Reverent's been saying some pretty terrible things about how we should stone all the gay people to death (only he didn't use that word) and lest we be visited with flame and brinestone."
"Fire and Brimmstone, like Soddom and Gohmora ! "
"Sweety, even the other churches in town are weary of you lot. They say you preach hatred and your faith is meant to be about love."
"My faith… so you are not a believer then ?"
"What I believe or do not believe is pretty much none of your fucking business kiddo, just don't call my titties 'shame' again and we won't have a problem. Now I gots to go minister to the thirsty scoundrels-in-potentia around here."
Sarah sat back in her seat with the prim and proper attitude of the well brought up, a posture that was apparently designed after careful study of stick insects. Music began to play, and then a spotlight hit the stage. A dancer came out and began twirling around a pole. As the dancer got ever more naked, Sarah found herself getting ever more uncomfortable. But what was worse was that she wasn't just appalled… she was feeling, uncomfortable in a way she had always avoided. She was feeling damp in a place she would never admit she knew the name off and if forced at gunpoint to mention would probably have described as her "holiest of holies"… but there was apparently an entire revival congregation singing her temple now.
It was temptation, she'd come here to minister and Satan was trying to tempt her – that's why her nipples were straining against her dress ! That's why her sensible, respectable and gigantic underwear was damp ! It made her furious and she jumped up on the stage and shouted:" Sinners the lot of you ! Resist the urge ! Resist the temptation ! Go home to your husbands and submit to them !"
The by now very naked dancer looked at her in awe and as the red mist of rage before her eyes came down a little she could see the bouncer coming through the crowd. He was the biggest man she'd ever seen apart from Reverend Salinger himself, but while the good reverend was just fat, this man was pure muscle. Sarah might have described him as a kind of black incredible Hulk, if she had any idea who the Hulk was. He stepped up on stage, and his hands clenched around her arms. He lifted her by merely bending his forearms, her small frame in his strong arms made resistance absolutely futile.
She was about to faint… as far as she could remember no man had ever touched her at all, let alone lifted her off the ground ! The bouncer was carrying her to the door, she was kicking and screaming at the brute but it was like a mosquito trying to argue with a rhinoceros. She was thrown out of the club onto the cold hard concrete outside, rolling into a muddy puddle that quite ruined her dress and sent her collection of bookmarks flying across the street. She sat there for a while, crying, but her breath was short and panting. Slowly she got up and started walking back to the encampment outside of town. When she walked in, ashamed and confused she avoided all eyes and returned to her little bungalow for a much needed hot shower.
As she stood there, a word was boiling her, she'd heard it a dozen times that night, more than she'd ever heard it before in her life. She could not bring herself to say it, but it was boiling in her, almost without her noticing, her finger traced it in the steam on the shower door. "Fuck".