Gals Gone Wild

In the last major stop before we made it to Vegas, I was ambushed by Ravyn, the Frau and Cerrydwen and dragged in to the psychedelic van for my own personal 'ambush makeover'.

The wenches must have been planning the event for quite some time, as I saw that Ravyn was carrying a couple of bags from that Outlet Mall we hit sometime a ways back. Inside I could see the tendrils from what I hoped was only a black haired wig. The Frau appeared to be holding a large make-up bag with a set of industrial sized application brushes. Cerrydwen was smiling for I believe the first time since I had met her. She appeared to be holding some folded up clothes that almost seemed ridiculous to have ever been folded, a set of jeans that already looked ragged and frayed, a black T-shirt of some sort, and a set of very large, very brutish looking studded leather bracers all piled on top of a long black trenchcoat.

I was helpless under their relentless onslaught, as they pulled me into the van, kicked out the young couple who had taken this moment to grab a little nookie, and stripped me down to my skivvies faster than a lone Chippendales dancer at a bachelorette party, giggling (even cackling!) like schoolgirls over their first crushes.

In less time than it would have taken that horny young man to reach for the sky, so to speak, I was transformed from a pale, bald, but semi-respectable looking zombie with a few scars, to a passing fair impersonation of a trenchcoat wearing throwback to an 80's rock band, with hair-sprayed, spikey bangs sticking up from my head and hair cascading around my shoulders.

Looking in the mirror when they had finally exhausted themselves into a giggling pile of breathless women turned to schoolgirls, I saw a stranger who could have easily been a member of that quintessential hard rock band, Kiss. Everything from a silver sword earring dangling from my right ear to the several silver chains now dangling from neck simply screamed white trash. The Ozzie Ozbourne concert T-shirt and the huge bracers that covered most of my forearms just seemed to finish the ensemble. I threw my shades back onto my face, put down the mirror, and held up my left hand in that Heavy Metal, 'devil's horns' sign and said "Dudes, let's rock!"

The shrieking laughter that erupted from my attackers sent them into asthmatic fits of coughing, tears flowing down their cheeks.

Somehow, these three women had transformed my image and hid my true nature from casual observation better than all of the Dr. Geeks' lab techs could manage in a half a day, and probably for a fraction of the cost! Little did I know just how valuable my makeover would become in the coming days...but that is for the next couple of posts....