I don't know if my life can get any crazier. The photo shoot went great and I--as the stylist/studio mom--was ready with everything. I not only had all of the clothing items Leo wanted pulled out of his closet, but a bag of "necessities". This held make-up, lint brush, hair combs, safety pins, and the like. When it was decided that Leo's straight-cut Versace dinner jacket needed to be fitted, that bag contained clothes pins; nothing works better on a shoot than that, and it did. After the shoot I joked with Leopoldo that he had become a Fashion Stegosaurus and that we would have a new member of the household.
But, no; nothing is that simple. Today, Wally Gator invited me out to the deck table; he had "Stegy" in front of him. According to Wally, he--as the first transvestite alligator on Miami Beach--had an exclusivity contract regarding "Reptilian Performers". I vaguely remembered signing something like that in the heat of the night, but there it was, on paper. Where oh where was Riley when I was signing anything; the reptilian union is a major player here in town.
There was no argument (never get into an argument with a drag queen alligator); I unhooked "Stegy's" clothes pins and retired him back into the closet of designer jacket from which he came. I heard Wally snap her fingers.
Meanwhile, Lolita--ever watching what was going on--informed me that she was not joining FOPS (Fraternal Order of Poolboys). She now wants top billing, artistic control over ads, and the right to deny people she regards as low brow a ride. She kept handing me a beer and, after a while, I totally understood her position and gave her a contract, too.
What's next? The possum strike or the toad sit down?