Disco Fever

 
Clear four inch stiletto heels
Clumsily clamour from the club
A sequenced boob tube leaves
Nothing at all to the imagination
Silver spangly hot pants, stretched
From behind looks like two protesting
Oven read chickens wrapped in foil
Big hair, real big hair, has to be a wig
Fishnet panty hose, can’t be stockings
Teetering like a dog on clown stilts
Almost falling down the street with
The sound of “Disco Inferno.” Internalising
Inside a disco and lamppost pole dance
Feeling sexy but looking bloody ridiculous
The wrong type of attention surfaces
A group of lads scour the streets like
Scavengers on the prowl for a victim
Tanked up and tooled up they hunt
In the distance they see a dancing lady
A lamppost, drunken pole dancing lady
So intent on the disco beat they approach
Stealthily and slowly so as not to spook
Semi hard and drooling at the mouth
They smirk smugly coming closer and closer
“Hey, lady; Hey big tits, show us your cunt.”
Imagine their shock when they see my face
You would think they’d just walk away
But no, like idiots they still want to play
They hurl insults and salvia like missiles
I can feel their rage electrically in the air
I try to be diplomatic; not easy in this get up
“How much for a blow job you fuckin slut?”
This followed by more personal obscenities
Then one pulls a knife, then another blade shown
Stupid really, bringing a knife to a gun fight
I pull my Gloc from my purse and point it
Inches from his forehead, he smiles broadly
I shoot him at point blank right in the fuckin head
For just assuming I was too ladylike to fire
The other two look at each other bewildered
I swiftly shoot one and then the other
By this time I have quickly sobered up
And walk down the street like a catwalk model
Now I have the smug smile and an awkward
Semi hard-on – I punch the air
‘Us trannys are on it!’