Parting Glances
1.
In the Year of the Grand Delusion, during the Reign of Lost War Rumors, a decree went out from the Tetrarch of Theocracy, abiding in the Capitol of Divine Cacophony, that all same-sex couples must register, under penalty of eternal banishment.
2. Now Merry, being espoused to her soulmate Myomy – in sickness and health, for richer and poorer (but surely richer, as her dad was wealthy and cunningly powerful) – deemed it wise that they, once closeted but now of open accord, should journey without fanfare to register.
3. Merry, who was with child – presumably engendered by a handsome, DNA creative donor – also decided it circumspect to travel without family, servants, or thick-skined, trumpeting, pachydermal bodyguards.
4. And while the two lovers pondered upon the sojourn, Merry had a dream. An angel in a bright sequined gown with feather boa visited her as she slept a deep untroubled sleep. For Merry knew in her heart of twice decades plus five that her life and that of her espoused Myomy, of thrice decades plus seven, was truly about to be blessed.
5. And the Angel of Heavenly Drag said, "Merry, Merry, take things not quite so contrary, but go forth to the Capitol of Divine Cacophony, register as required. Boldly proclaim your love as worthy, meritorious, tax deductible (even if your father shall be accursed as a backslider by the Tetrarch of Theocracy)."
6. Merry arose, kissed Myomy gently on her forehead as she slept, and fixed herself a glass of warm, homogenized milk. And, lo, it seemed to Merry as she pondered her dream that of all womyn, Merry felt surely most singular blessed.
7. Thus, full of patience and quietude, the two womyn hand in hand boarded a second-class passenger coach for the overnight trek to the Capitol of Divine Cacophony. (The Bipolar Express was full. And although Merry and Myomy felt alone, they saw that many traveling wore about their person telltail ribbons from Life's Coat of Rainbow Technicolors.)
8. Hailing a Checkered Cab the two espoused womyn upon arrival sought refuge in nearby hotels. And although Merry's father's platinum VISA was often Open Sesame, she and Myomy found neither room, nor food, nor service, nor kind words wherever they sought lodging.
9. "Two women – shamefully one so big with sin – are not welcome here without the wedding band of a politically correct father," said seven-times-70, pinch-nosed desk clerks. (They belonged to the Union of Sad-u-sees, Scare-a-sees & Naysayers.) "Go walk the straight and narrow. But do get lost."
10. After hours wandering lonely streets, an Angel of Most High Camp and Compassion appeared, pointed to a spangled disco star, and said, "Follow, Soul Mates! I know a place where you can safely recoup." Holding hands against a forbidding underdraft, Merry and Myomy did as they were bidden to do.
11. And so, in a safespace of unexpected seasonal warmth, radiant with ample afterglow, they were welcomed by a T – as in tiara – mom, a stand-in, stay-at-home dad, four LA Fitness shepherds, three kings (actually queens), six pink sheep; and soon a smiling, radiant child. Amen, er, A-womyn! and Get You, Merry!
