THE BIRDS OF LEVERIZA

Birds (Limited Print)
original - pen and ink on paper
15" x 15"

“Papa ha! I see that you’ve been looking at my breasts. You like them?” asked a bubbly Jenny, a pretty young transvestite who took the seat across the table. “She” sat beside Brian while the two of us were finishing off the rice and remaining chunks of oily pork floating in coconut milk we just had in Aling Mameng’s 24-hour eatery. It was an hour past midnight here at Leveriza, the night is already bewitched and the colorful “night birds” from Mhayet’s Beauty Parlor from across the street start to “fly” out of their roost.

These “birds” are the transvestite/transgender friends of Mhayet – an ageing gay man with big, sad eyes, a tumor growing out of the left side of his neck and teeth that badly need fixing. He has a deep throaty voice that is a bit difficult to understand when he speaks. I call him the “two-talking Tita (aunt)”. He has to repeat everything he says twice or thrice to be understood. I figure it’s the lump on his neck that makes it difficult for him to enunciate his words. He’s also known as a “charitable foundation” for many of the young teenage boys in the area looking for some extra cash in exchange for a few minutes spent with him at the back office of his parlor.

Mhayet’s beauty parlor is a nest for some of his gay cohorts and their faghags in Leveriza. There’s Shaina – the scaly-skinned, bones-jutting-out-of-his-joints pimp of Nene. He’s also known in the area as “The Treasure Chest” by the local druggies for the crystal meth he pushes.

There’s Sharon, an ageing transsexual who spent years in Japan as a performer. “She” prides herself as being the complete “woman” for having made the leap of chopping of her jewels courtesy of a Japanese boyfriend. She can also be a good case study for plastic surgeons with a face that has been stretched, lifted, botoxed and bleached so many times she actually looks mummified. They say she pops estrogen pills like candy to maintain her curves and her silicon-implanted breasts.

And then there’s Jenny. She’s the youngest of these birds. Of their group she’s the “professional”, the only one who works in an office as a call center agent. She once mentioned that she uses the name Joan whenever she takes calls. Were it not for the slight hint of an Adam’s apple, she can be a poster image of the young Career Girl.

“You know Papa, these are new. I spent my whole year-end bonuses on these beauties,” she told me as she proudly cupped her breasts beneath her bra-less, gauzy blouse. “You want to touch them?” she suddenly offered.

“No, it’s okay. They’re, uhm, pretty,” I said with a grin.

“Let me,” Brian offered as he lightly poked his finger on her proud silicone flesh. “It feels real,” he said as he turned to me with a wide grin and a wink.

“Hoy!” came a loud yelp. It was Sharon in a skimpy white night gown followed by Shaina. “You flirty bitch! You just can’t wait to show off your new breasts no??” she said in a shrill voice while shaking a queenly finger at Jenny.

“Hay naku Ateng! You’re just envious. My breasts are perkier than yours and I’m younger,” Jenny told Sharon with defiance. "Besides, these guys said they're pretty."

“Uh-huh”, muttered Brian to himself. I looked at him and gave him a slight nod that we’d better go. I could sense a fag fight looming in the air.

“Isn’t it… Papa?” then Jenny turned to me, to my surprise, as I was about to stand up after I made sure to leave a tip for Robert the busboy. Brian had already made a quick beeline for the doorway.

“Uh yeah. They’re, uhm, nice,” I stumbled in my response. It was only then I realized that I was stuck between the table, the wall, Jenny and Sharon who’s already blocked my only way out of that sticky situation by standing in front of me.

“See, he says it’s nice. What can you say to that?” Jenny followed up my response.

“Is that so huh??” Sharon said, “Well, there’s only one way to prove whose breasts are better.” In a flash, she pulled down her strap and revealed her huge left bumper. As quick as she pulled down her strap to expose her mound, she took my left hand and placed it on her silicone treasure. “There Papa. Feel it. Now tell me if it’s nicer than hers or not,” she exclaimed in triumph as she held my wrist while I cup her breast.

“AY!! No,” screeched Jenny and in a huff she too suddenly pulled down her gauzy blouse to expose her not so big but very perky protuberance. She took my other hand and before I could even give a whimper, I was already cupping her rather fleshy pride. In a defiant tone she said, “Nothing beats youth and freshness.”

Locked in a position where both my hands were cupping “things” I shouldn’t cup (I felt I was nailed to a cross), I could only mutter, “Uhm, they’re both… nice.”

And I could see Brian laughing his tonsils out by the doorway.