Listen To Me Now And Hair Me Later

Candace loved her some beehive. In fact, she was the first girl in her small Texas hometown to include the festive bow feature, and was voted “most likely to always have big hair” when she graduated from high school.

That was over forty years ago and as we all know, a lot of things change in our lives once we’re out of our teens. For Candace, some of those changes involved hardscrabble times; sex, drugs and rock-n-roll; and even doing without necessities on occasion. But she’s held her ground steadfastly on the hair front. Sure, it might be a cheesy wig from Salvation Army, but her hair is still big. She bets it’s bigger than yours. There’s probably a bow in there somewhere as well.

Got Milk?

Dev always went to the store with Dad, but wouldn’t let Dad stand in line beside him. It was bad enough listening to the totally uncool stream of racist bullshit that Dad was always spouting. Dev tried to stare at the elaborate linoleum floor pattern at the A&P and pretend he had a free-thinking, open-minded parent who fit in with the times. What had Mom ever seen in this oily gas bag?




















But after Mom died, everything changed. Dad started using rogaine, wearing wifebeaters, and then there was the Hitler moustache. You’d think he would have been more embarrassing than ever, but by this time not only had Dev gotten used to it, he’d halfway started believing Dad’s spewings, and even sharing his wifebeaters. Dev…you oughta be ashamed of yourself. Hope you become as intolerant of lactose as you are of everything else. And lose the mullet!

Marshall Artz

Marshall was never a popular boy, but he had enthusiasm and did an honest job, always giving his all. When he got his first gun at boot camp he was absolutely beside himself with giddy joy. He felt empowered, went out and kicked some ass, and the transformation from nervous boy to confident man was instantaneous. He fought bravely until a bullet completely penetrated his gluteus maximus and he was sent home in a wheelchair, lucky to be alive.

But Marshall also came home with an undiagnosed case of PTSD. His short fuse, intensely pungent body odor, and habit of yelling, “Git the hell off my property!” even when he was at the grocery store earned him few friends. Now he lives alone with his sore ass, fiercely defending himself against a world he's sure is out to get him.

Who You Callin' Androgynous?

Leslie couldn’t control his temper when people weren’t sure he was a boy, and many of his classmates at the Pennsylvania Dutch School of Hex Sign Painting were subjected to what Leslie liked to call the neck nick.




















Leslie still gets a little hot under the collar when anyone questions his sexuality, his food or music preferences, or his overuse of cologne, but now that he’s a little older he likes to think he’s refined the neck nick to more of a neck knock.