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It's the boots




Robert Hyers





We started a second bottle of Merlot in my bedroom.  He was a mess until I came along.   He looked like his mother had dressed him.  But a home waxing kit and a quick introduction to hair products changed that.  Now he was hot—the Milan runway kind of hot.  He was visibly uncomfortable with this, but fashion isn't for the faint of heart. He'd get used to it.  He put down the wine asked if he could look through my closet.  


"Sure," I said.  When you're a drag queen, eventually everybody wants to raid your closet.


He presented himself to me at the closet opening, using the door frame for support.  Somehow he'd managed to get into my best (and most expensive) gogo boots.   They have long spiked heels and reach up to the knee.  The entire boot is covered in tiny mirrors, like a disco ball.   Everyone loves those boots. 


"Those are my best boots! Find something else!"

"Something ugly, you mean?"   He tried to put his hand on hip, but lost his balance and fell.  Now sitting on the closet floor, he examined the boots.  "These look like little mirrors.  But why can't I see myself?" 

"You're drunk! And there's nothing ugly in my closet!"

He carefully stood back up and pulled out a long, fire-engine red wig.   "What about this?  This is ugly!"

I laughed. "I am deeply offended."

He was laughing now also.  "It's the boots. They're making me a bitch!"


Finally, he looked comfortable. 

ROBERT HYERS shares...

ROBERT HYERS lives with his partner in a Philadelphia suburb.  He is currently working towards his MFA in Creative Writing. The inspiration for this piece comes from a house party he attended a long, long time ago.  To contact Robert, please go to