About Bugsy

Disclaimer: About Bugsy is an on-going comedy series/story that may contain sensitive material or life subjects, or jokes about sensitive material. Please be advised.

I have this friend, his name is Bugsley Lichtenhaus but we call him Bugsy for short. He's a former sergeant of the Marines 82nd Air Borne, served as a volunteer fire fighter for 10 years, 8 of that while still in the military. During tourist seasons he's a life guard back in the hometown where his parents still live now that he's retired himself. His summers are filled with sunny days, the Atlantic Ocean glistening like diamonds, and fishing for delicious fish off shore. In winter Bugsy comes home to the city where he lives next to me in our small condos. He spends his winters working on his art, his love, his joy.

But that doesn't mean that he's what you might consider good at it...

It's fall in the city as off-key singing echoes from down the corridor. It's so jubilant I would never dare to ask my dear neighbor to stop but unfortunately the other neighbors don't have the same opinion. "Who's cat is dying?" "Is this man right in the head?" "Please make him stop, my mother is going to die of aneurysm at this rate!" "It's a parrot right? No human could possible sound that bad and be proud of it?"

"Okay, Okay, I'll go talk to him..." I mutter back to the neighbors as I pass, they've begun to gather in the hallway voicing their complaints shoving fingers and cotton in their ears to escape the noise. At this point I have noise cancelling headphones myself but my neighbors have begun knocking on my door, pleading with me to convince him to stop since he's my best friend. I walk up to Bugsy's door, I texted him on the way over so as to be courteous, I knock and he answers jubilantly. He stops singing and greets me loudly and as he does I can feel the neighbors disperse behind me sighing breaths of relief as I am drug across the threshold.

Bugsy's condo glitters in the colors of a freshly painted sunset and warm light that mimics its' glow. An array of pinks greet you from the furniture as you enter the door, met with yellow accent walls, glittering gold accessories, mellow cherry wood and oak tones with pops of white here and there from various patterns intermingled with the colors. The room was as sunny as Bugsy's personality always seemed to shine. It mimicked patterns from a Mrs. Doubtfire blouse only in a brighter hue. That was Bugsy's favorite movie, forever a Robin Williams fan, forever promising to bring the same joy to peoples lives as the laughter and comedy of his hero once did.

"Darling can I offer you a cup of tea, while I tell you the T.E.A???" He says cheerfully and ending his sentence with a sly smile, a slight snarl, and shimmy of his shoulders on each letter, to accentuate and insinuate that he's up for some gossip. This is the face I see and I know it's going to be a good day.

The tea is made quickly, a fragrant earl gray. The scent fills the air like liquid Fruit Loops. Honey is offered and the gossip begins. Bugsy is all alight with the news from the theater. "So I tell them, can't the character be a little gay? You know actual tough guys, real military guys, a lot of them like to at least joke about that stuff. They aren't as sensitive as you'd think darlings... and they just turned around and told me to get out! I swear! writers these days just have no sense of REALITY! EXccuuuuussse me for trying to help you out with your story! That script was so bland anyway, ugh! Just boring!"

"Buggy baby, you know when they bring you in to act... they just want you to act the part, right?"

Bugsy drops the kettle mid pour and leans close to my face. At first I think he's about to cuss me then he just breaks down crying on my shoulder. Words pierce the sobs between inhalations. "What's wrong with me Christina!!!! I can't keep a single part and I've been at this for years now!!! The only parts I can ever get hired are the big muscle man and I just want to be Meeeeee..." Bugsy's tears fall on my shoulder like large warm rain drops. I pat his back and notice the clock on his wall. The large Felix eyes move back and forth (this clock is styled like an old Felix clock but its yellow instead of the black) that's when I noticed the time. "BUGSY! YOU'RE LATE!!!" I shout and push him to the corner of the love seat. "We need to get you ready!"

Bugsley jumps up with his hands to his cheeks as his face quickly drew to wordless exclamation before dashing off to the bedroom in the back of the condo. I jump up as well and dash around the room, grab his purse, grab his coat, the keys, pour the tea in a to go cup. As I'm grabbing the tea to pour it his flask falls out of his coat. I pour a shot in the tea, add lemon, stick the flask back in his purse. Meanwhile he's dashing about the bedroom changing clothes and shoving makeup in a bag. "Let's go darling! To the car!!!!" He shouts. I look down to the cup of tea "You take this, I'll drive" as I shove his to-go cup at him. "Hurry chug! Let's go!" He takes a swig, realizes it's a hot toddie and smiles, chugs it to finish and then out the door we are.

It's a mad dash to Boheme's but the roads are mostly clear, the struggle begins at the parking lot though to look for a space, so I drop Bugsy off at the door. I look for a space as he rushes back stage. By the time I park and make it back there myself he's already got half of his makeup on and made up like a buff Farrah Fawcett in a red one piece but with stunning red and black heels. The next piece to put on is the long train ruffled skirt that goes on top of the body suit, and then a kimono styled robe of black silk that covered most of the outfit till the reveal. He was almost ready for the show, but running out of time.

From the stage comes a roar of rowdy applause from the act before, and now it's Bugsy's turn. "Oh God I hope they are all drunk..." "Get out there" I say with a push. Bugsy tumbles forward slipping his flask from his skirt train real quick to take a sip as he stumbles then tosses it to me as the host calls out on the stage ahead, "Now for our next act you may know her, remember that comedy is golden and she'll take all the gold you have to offer. Be prepared when you are watching the cattiest of cacklers, the campiest of camp, our very own comedian and future telling amazon of drag, the glorious Madam Zo-him!"

The spot light cuts to the curtain and Bugsy (now in the character of Madam Zo-Him) stretches his leg out seductively to display a red backed pump with patent black leather on the top through the fold in the curtain. Back behind the curtain he/she gives me a wink, for here is where the transformation begins. Smoke goes up, and whoosh, the curtains are flared dramatically as Madam Zo-Him steps out to the stage.

But, then the curtain falls behind Her with a loud crash as the rods tumble to the floor leaving the stage crew and half dressed drag performers exposed... This is just the start of the show.