The Baby Shower

Music: “Rockin’ Robin” by Bobby Day

To the happy beat, I enter—dressed as a stork. Feathers from head to toe, a cloth diaper, and a large beak are the highlights of this ensemble. Slowly, slowly, on the offbeat, I pluck feathers from my body using my beak. I start at my ankles. Once I reach my shoulders, I just jerk sensually to the music, since my virile beak can’t reach the feathers on my collarbones. Eventually, I am left with nothing but my diaper and a feather over each nipple. As the cheering swells, I seductively untie my diaper (with my beak) and stand before the crowd of mothers and children with only barely-there feathers covering my private bird parts. When the music fades, I gracefully swoop out of the room, with feathers dancing on the ground beneath me.

The Republican Convention

Music: “Splish Splash” by Bobby Darin

As Mr. Darin sings about his sudsy Saturday night, I enter—wearing an elephant costume. I have a gigantic trunk and ears the size of dinner plates. My body is covered with gray paint and drawn-on wrinkles. Mightily, I swing my trunk to the music filling the arena. The crowd responds joyfully to my bravado. I march (on all fours) to the center of the stage, where a large trough of water is waiting. With my ass to the audience, I inhale water through my trunk and hose myself down. After several hose-downs, I whip around and reveal my body, everything except my pachydermal privates, which are covered by a peanut-shell thong.

Sunday Service

p= Music: Popular hymn by 18th-century white man; “Got Your Money” by Ol’ Dirty Bastard

To the soothing strains of the organ, I enter—dressed as a fish. Goggle-eyed contacts, flippers adorned with seaweed, and a suit made of something akin to mermaid skin capture the essence of this character. As I walk down the aisle of the church tossing loaves of bread to the assembled, my shiny scales gleam under the sun-drenched stained glass. (Stripper tip: Use lard to shine your costume before any indoor performance.) Once I reach the altar, I drop to the ground, fast and hard. And that’s when the flipping starts. I flip like a mad fish. Back and forth, up and down, and before long my diaphanous costume is torn to shreds and falls away. When the music slows and the congregation becomes quiet, I rise, like Jesus from the dead. What’s covering my cold-blooded nether regions? A Bible (pocket-sized). “Got Your Money” blasts as I descend from the altar, collection plate in hand, doing my part to contribute to the service.