The Fat Lady Sings the Blues

The big fat chick wielded the microphone and wailed her lyrics like her life depended on it.

“Go away rain

You gimme nothing but pain,

I just can’t stand you again.”

Her face glistened with pools and dots of sweat under the bright lights on opposite ends of the stage that were focused on her and her band. She came to a break, then began a frog-trotting war dance around her lead guitarist. The guitarist belted off chords on his Fender Telecaster like they were an extension of his being. She loved what she heard, then made a bee-line towards her drummer. The drummer was two-timing his drums, a hard-pounding exhilarating fury that made his hair fly with each flick of his wrists.

The music was wild; the music was engaging as fuck.

The crowd was up on its feet, clapping their hands above their heads while grooving to the bluesy rhythm the fat chick was belting. She returned to the forefront of the stage and switched to another blues number.

“I wonder which boy’s gonna drink my bath water

You said you could go all night long,

But honey, you lied when you came up short,

So now you’re got no choice but to drink my bath water.”

The crowd, especially the men, went ecstatic, tapping their boot heels to the frantic music, drowning in its lush power that vibed with sex and lust. Lots of sex and tons of rousing pleasure. The women glanced at each other, blushing at the singer’s audacious words — was she saying what they think she was saying? Seriously?

The fat lady went about singing like it was the most natural thing she could possibly do. She turned around and twerked her booty at the crowd. She worked the mic between her thighs, poking it at her rump while still twerking her butt. The crowd got the point, and they cheered and wolf-whistled at her action. One of the women, so moved, jumped into her lover’s arms and kissed him, unconcerned about the crowd surrounding them. They would head home later and have themselves the craziest sex since the time he got her pregnant.

The lady pointed at the crowd and continued her singing:

“Which one of you boys is ready to drink my bath water tonight, Oh!

Tell me now, which one of you boys is ready to hit it raw tonight?

Well, if you say you can do it right,

Babe, you’d better mean it, ‘cos this cat can purr all night,

I say again, Which one of you boys is ready to drink my bath water tonight?”

And if you know you’re the lucky one, boy,

Better wait to see me after the show tonight.”

“Thank you, and good night!”

The crowd broke into ecstatic joy as the woman curtsied to the accolades coming at her. She extended the accolades to the members of her band, and threw kisses at the crowd before exiting the stage.