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There are six kinds of men that patronize southern gay bars: bonafide drag queens who lipsync pop hits and kiss you on the cheek if you happen to have a crisp dollar bill in your hand and have a thirst for whatever they can get for free; Cowboys which are fully clad in texas-style bull-wrestling assless chaps with jeans underneath, a ten gallon hat, a belt buckle the size of a paperback book and a thirst for wiskey; effeminant twinks who parade around boucing between boy to bar to dance-floor and when asked would say they are "just looking for the one" when you really know they just want you to quench their thirst for a fruity mixed drink; Latinos who are there for the cowboys to buy them cervesas or tequila and speak practically no English; burly boys who drink shots of any hard liquor that can and will if provoked drink you under the table until you are a vomiting lifeless body who needs help getting in the cab home; and finally, the rest of us, drawn there for some ungodly reason even though everytime we leave we say "I'll never be back" or "no one ever hits on me." Le Vieux Carre is no different.

Myself, fitting in the last category-- not a mindless twink with a party addiction, nor a burly blubbering buttface-- had befreinded few. The only friend I had made that was worth a damn was a fabulous black cat named Ms. Kraven who was a bonafide drag queen slash twink hybrid. She was the shade-throwing-est-bitch-slash-boy-in-a-dress around. And even she was furtive.

Most nights that I had made the fourty-two minute drive to the city to the bar were generally blurs-- not caused by total inebriation, but by disapointment. The one night I do get plastered in the bar is the night I saw K for the first time which also happens to be the night Kraven and I found out about Tina Rose Deshawntel's real girl titties.

"You know Fenix... I would almost bet two weeks worth of tips that that bitch on the stage there has real titties." Ms. Kraven said. "I have been dressing like this for eight months now and I just don't see how she can have tits like that."

Kraven was right. I couldn't quite understand either how a drag queen could wear a dress that had an entire tittie hanging out of it with a pastie on and not have the damn thing fall right off doing the kind of shakes she was doing.

"And why is it bad to show a nipple but not the rest of the tit?" Kraven asked. "I mean why is the nipple the naughty zone?"

I didnt respond I just let her go on.

"It's just unnatural!" Ms. Kraven said. "She has to have real honest-to-god girl titties!"

Tina Rose Deshawntel was on her second song when the topic came up again. Lipsyncing Dolly Parton's "Jolene," you could have sworn on christ's bicycle that she had sawed off Dolly's own titties and krazy-glued them onto her own torso.

"Hold on Kraven I'll give her a dollar and she if she'll let me stick it between her tits. maybe if I get close enough I can see the seam that keeps them tits up there." I said to Kraven who looked at me perplexed as if this could actually solve the conundrum.

"Well go on then! Get back quick because I need to know now." she said as I scoured my wallet for a dollar bill. I always forgot to get change.

I sauntered to the front of the stage and put the dollar bill just inside my muzzle and motioned provocatively to the bunny-boy in drag. She sauntered over slowly not missing a syllable of her lipsync. Then she looked at me puzzled for a split second until she realized what I was getting at. She pushed her breasts into my face and all I could smell was sweat. I looked hard as my vision came back to me and my dollar was swallowed by the rabbit's still questionable faux cosmetic tits or real implants. Then I walked back to Ms. Kraven who was waiting impatiently for the verdict to the case of the honest-to-god real girl titties caper.

"I couldn't tell. I'm not a tit expert." I said.

"Hmm... well, mark my words Fifi," she started as I rolled my eyes at the stupid ass nickname she gave me, "I will know the truth before I leave this bar tonight."

"I hope so. This is too delicious of a gossip to not know." I told her.

We both walked over to get drinks. Ms. Kraven being a drag-queen slash twink hybrid had gotten a lucky patron to get the honor of purchasing her two drinks, a Gin and Tonic with a Sex on the Beach to wash it down. I hate gin, it tastes like pine-sol to me. I bought my Jager-bomb-- a double-- as I usually did. I closed my eyes and chuged the drink.

When I opened my eyes I noticed that Ms. Kraven was talking up her patron and had finished her Gin with remarkable speed. The bartender was staring into Kraven's own stuffed bra with clever lines and makeup shading to give the illusion of actual tits. Now that I had thought about it I didnt see any lines in the drag rabbit's chest.

I went to the bathroom and pissed away the Jager-bomb which had made me need the lavatory immensely. I walked back and ordered another Jager-bomb. I closed my eyes and chugged the second drink and when I opened my eyes I saw him.

K was dressed in a white button up shirt and jeans. He was drinking Coke, which was odd. I remember thinking maybe he was underage. No. He was definately from a cultured upbringing and not like me from my suburbanite universe where a drink just helps you get through the day. He was an outsider. He wasn't like "the six types" and he wasn't one of "them" because he was here at "that nasty fag bar what all the faggots go to." I got nervous and got up from the bar and found Ms. Kraven on the dance-floor teaching some bachlorette-party-girls how to Cupid shuffle like a lady.

"Excuse me girls do you mind if I take her?" I yelled so they could hear me and I dragged the high-heeled feline away from the unsuspecting heteros.

"What's the big deal Fifi? I was just dancing! Scouts honor!" Ms. Kraven held up three fingers with the fest of her paw clenchted to a dollar bill.

"I just saw the most handsome reptile! I need you to see him!" I proclaimed.

"Why didn't you just bring him to me if you wanted to introduce us?" Ms. Kraven said sarcastically.

"I saw him first so he is mine and...." I paused finally realizing what I had done.

"...and?" Ms. Kraven was urging me to continue.

"... and I didn't talk to him." I grimaced.

"So you dont even know his name?" She said disappointed. Then she grabbed my arm. "Then we have to go find out what his name is." and she took a step and collided with Tina Rose Deshawntel.

There are moments in life when sometimes you just catch a break. This was not one of those moments for poor Tina Rose Deshawntel. As Kraven slammed into her she broke a beautiful red heel and fell to the floor ripping her tight dress as it happened. As soon as the rip of the dress was heard she screamed an awful scream.

"My Titties! Don't look!"

Ms. Kraven did not miss a beat she responded: "Bitch you were wearing pasties 20 minutes ago, we've already seen your store-bought titties! Now we get to see the nipples!"

"oh my god, Kraven you were right..." I muttered softly.

"Oh sweet Jesus in heaven! My prayers have been answered! Those titties were real titties! When did you get those installed, Tina Rose Deshawntel?" Kraven exclaimed.

I walked away. As a gay man I have had enough real tittie in my face for one night. Later when I asked Kraven about what had happened with the overthrown queen she told me: "she knows better than to go bra-less again at a classy facility like this one again." which made me want to beleive Kraven helped her up and got her to the dressing room without too many people getting a picture of real girl titties on a boy in public. That would be just too much for the general population. I almost had a seizure as it was.

As for the reptile, I would have to wait another week before I could see his beautiful face one more time and I counted every second until I did. This time, we would actually talk and maybe-- just maybe-- I could avoid tits if I prayed hard enough to some tit concealing deity.