Chapter 9
Lesbian Congress was thought be an urban legend. It once had a page on Snopes.com under “History” because it is something akin to the Geneva Convention. The tale goes that once a year, all lesbians active in pop culture get together to dictate what they want their fans to be in into that year. This was only half right.
Lesbian Congress was a gathering of all A through F-list celebrity lesbians, but had never actually happened before. Much like Life Alert, it was only to be used in case of a huge emergency — a metaphorical old woman tripping on the cat the cat and falling so hard that she could not get up and potentially could never get up again if the proper authorities were not called at once. Only one lesbian had the power to call Lesbian Congress, and in 2013 that lesbian was, of course, Ellen.
After Ellen got a call from Tegan and Sara saying that Blaze had hijacked their tour, she knew she had to call Lesbian Congress, and call it fast. There was no signal shined into the night sky, or forearm tattoo to press against to summon it — it was arranged simply by The Ellen Show‘s writing staff cold calling all the lesbians like telemarketers. It is the least glamorous part of Lesbian Congress. Then the summoned lesbians would book next day travel to Los Angeles where the congress was held in a rented theater. Many airport workers were confused by the influx of lesbians because they all knew that Dinah Shore weekend wasn’t until April (an interesting conclusion drawn by the workers because Lesbian Congress was a lot like Dinah Shore in that everyone who was there was fearing for their lives).
The lesbians began making their way to the theater; again their mass immigration confused many members of the L.A. community. For example, Miley Cyrus caught sight of the many alternative lifestyle haircuts and figured she should follow because it could’ve been some undercut support group. Miley, however, did not get past the door, for she could not correctly answer the password.
Inside the theater the C through F list lesbians crowded into the mezzanine, loge, and back orchestra seating. The rest sat in the front of the orchestra, and the very top of the A list sat onstage in a panel. Celebrity was judged by how many times one appeared in People magazine. In the center of the table sat Ellen stroking Portia, who was curled on her lap. Jodie was no where to be seen.
Once everyone had arrived and taken their seats, Ellen raised her hand. The theater hushed and Ellen stood, but before she could speak, “Roar” by Katy Perry began to play. Ellen started dancing. Then the audience started. The dancing was somber, for it was an obligatory dance; like the greeting at a Catholic mass. Ellen could not start anything without dancing beforehand. The song ended and Ellen sat; the rest of the lesbians dutifully sat.
“I want to start by thanking you all for coming today, especially on such short notice.”
Something seemed to have caught Ellen’s attention.
“Where is Jodie?” she asked, turning towards Tegan and Sara sitting at the end of the table. They shrugged.
“Look, Raven is here!” said Sara, pointing to Raven Symone. Raven waved.
“Oh yes, welcome Raven, so glad you finally came out to join us,” said Ellen. The audience mumbled various greetings. Ellen continued, “So no one has seen Jodie?”
“Where is Lindsay Lohan?” asked Rosie O’Donnell. An awkward silence came over the audience, the only thing that could be heard was the swivel of hundreds of heads turning to look at Samantha Ronson, who tried to hide her face/memories. Rosie caught on to what was happening.
“Sorry,” she whispered “I’ve been behind on pop culture ever since I got kicked off The View.” Suddenly a voice called from the back of the theater.
“Um, hey, since Sara and I are going to be on Couples Therapy, can we sit closer to the stage?” asked Whitney Mixter.
“Absolutely not! Stay back there with the rest of The Real L Word cast,” Ellen shouted. The cast of The L Word, sitting close to the stage, all turned and flipped the bird at Whitney. Whitney sat back down, visibly frustrated.
“Dammit. Sara, we have to be so good on that show,” she said to Sara.
“Good thing we hate each other,” replied Sara. She was passively playing Candy Crush on her phone, clearly hating Whitney.
“Well, hopefully Jodie is just late because of traffic and not because she’s a pussy,” Ellen said. The audience laughed nervously. They didn’t want Ellen to think they were pussies for not laughing because clearly Ellen’s “who’s-a-pussy-radar” was zonked; a pussy is the last body part you’d expect a two-time Oscar winner to be.
“So as you all know, Blaze still has not been stopped-”
“Wait, what?” Rachel Maddow interrupted, “I thought Jodie killed her and this was an advanced screening of Blue is the Warmest Color.”
Ellen looked surprised, “No! This is about Blaze! About the lesbian who will replace us all!”
“WHAT THE FUCK I THOUGHT YOU STOPPED HER!” screamed Kate Moennig from the first row. “YOU CAN’T LET THAT HAPPEN. NOT TO ME.”
“Yeah! What’re we supposed to do?” asked Jane Lynch, then sarcastically added “Be straight?”
The lesbians erupted into protesting shouts. At the table on the stage, Jillian Michaels turned to Alice Walker and whispered “I can’t be straight! I don’t know anything about it! Like they say penises are hard? Is there anywhere I could find an easy one? Where would I even find that? CVS?” Alice Walker put her face in her hands. The madness in the theater was reaching a riotous level when someone ran down the aisle, and up to the stage.
“IT HAPPENED,” shouted Jodie Foster, as she took the stage. “SHE GOT THE HAIRCUT.”
The theater went still. Nobody moved or said a word. Ellen, who had a choke hold on Jane Lynch, dropped her and walked towards Jodie.
“Goddammit Jodie. This is YOUR fault. If you weren’t such a pussy and had killed Blaze, we’d all be FINE right now and at home or shopping in the men’s department of Uniqlo! God! You should’ve never been elected Lesbian Vice-President!”
The words did not even seem to hurt Jodie, she went straight to angry.
“Oh shove it Ellen! I’m not a pussy! So what if I’m afraid of horses or that I take all my vitamins in gummy form! Horses are half a ton creatures propped up by broomstick legs and being healthy should be delicious! And you think you’re so great because you’ve danced with 800 celebrities. Well you know what Ellen, we all know you’d be a D-LISTER if Oprah ever decided to come out!”
Ellen gasped. Jodie went on.
“That’s right! You’d be sitting further back than the American Women’s Olympic Softball team. No offense ladies.”
The American Women’s Olympic Softball were too stunned to respond. Ellen was too stunned to respond. So Jodie kept talking.
“Lesbians, this is no time to name-call. Our reputations as hotties are at stake. Do you really want to live in a world where people aren’t obsessed with us?”
The audience gave varied but powerful “no”s.
“So then let’s get to it. We need a plan to take down Blaze. AND A PLAN THAT ISN’T JUST GOING TO BE ‘YOU DO IT JODIE. I’M TOO BUSY PRANKING ELTON JOHN.’”
“Why don’t we write some scathing poetry about her,” suggested Eileen Myles.
“What’s a poem going to do?” scoffed Mary Cheney.
“Have you even heard of Maya Angelou? Or American History?” Eileen shot back.
“I’m the former Vice President’s daughter! I’m a part of history!”
“Oh yes, very good, you’re the daughter of yet another white man who has shot someone in the face and didn’t get in trouble.”
“HEY!” Ellen shouted. “This is serious. We need a plan. It’s too bad that this isn’t a problem that can be solved by DJing. You know, because all lesbians are DJs.”
“Oh yeah speaking of which,” said Wanda Sykes as she stood up, “if the world doesn’t end this month, I’ll be DJing a Halloween party called ‘Gay Ghosts’ so come see me, DJ X-Sykes, on Halloween.” Wanda sat down. Then stood up again. “Oh and dress as a ghost.”
“Does anybody else have any events coming up?” asked Jodie pulling out her day planner.
“I do!” said Tracy Chapman as known as DJ Fast Kar.
“Me too!” said Rosie O’Donnel as known as DJ Not On Da View.
“I have one soon,” said Jillian Michaels as known as DJ Booty Shredder.
“Thursday,” said Tig Notaro as known as DJ Chunky Sweaterz.
“Mine’s at a bar called ‘Window’, so come to my window,” said Melissa Etheridge as known as DJ Cuntry Singer. “I’m the only one…spinning.”
“Yeah I go up after Tig,” said Ellen as known as DJ Forgetful Fish. “Okay. Now onto the real business. Killing Blaze. Also known as DJ Dooms Gay Device.”
Congress ended three hours later and the lesbians had a plan in place. It was a flawless plan, and would have worked wonders if it weren’t for the mole Louis had hired to infiltrate the meeting. The mole had been so beautifully disguised that the mole entered, sat, and exited Lesbian Congress without a soul even noticing. Louis and Blaze were eating popcorn shrimp in the hotel waiting for the mole to come back and report. They heard a knock on the door. They both ran to it, and Louis flung the door open.
“Did it work?” he asked anxiously,”Did you get in?”
“Yes,” said Justin Bieber. “No one even looked twice.” Justin did not look happy about this fact. Blaze and Louis high-fived.
“So I was right about the password?” Blaze asked.
“Yeah. When I got to the door they asked ‘Who’s the hottest guy in the world?’ and I said, just like you told me to, ‘I don’t fucking know, Ryan Gosling? Who cares.’ And they let me in.”
“What did they say? What are they going to do?”
“They’re going to ambush you after the MTV Pointless Award Show.” Justin explained the plan — basically the lesbians would be hiding throughout the hotel Blaze would be staying in, all with the aim to assassinate Blaze.
“Hmmm,” Blaze thought. She turned to Louis, “We can get enough security to stop that right?”
“Absolutely. I’ll see if Bobby could send up the balrog.”
“A what?” Blaze asked.
“The firey creature that fights Gandolf the Grey in the Mines of Moria in Lord of the Rings,” said Justin.
“No shit! That thing is real?”
“Yeah, go look it up on IMDB. He has an acting credit. He was also in that weird movie Constantine with Keanu Reeves,” replied Louis.
“You’re lucky you got invited to perform at the MTV Pointless Award Show. They didn’t invite me,” lamented Justin.
“Don’t be upset, they’re totally pointless, like all MTV awards shows,” said Louis.
“He’s right,” said Blaze. “They’re only purpose is to make the world regret that they ever made these celebrities famous.”
“Or to pull off some big stunt.”
Louis gave a big smile at Blaze. She smiled back. Justin squinted at them.
“Are you planning something?” Justin asked.
“Yeah. I’m finally going to do something every lesbian has wanted to do,” Blaze said with fatty smile.
“What? Grow a dick?”
“What? Lesbians aren’t define by their genitalia you essentialist shithead. Don’t you know anything about human beings?” Blaze was seething.
“How do you guys even have sex?” Justin asked, not picking up on Blaze’s hurt.
“Here, I’ll show you.”
Blaze unzipped her pants and very quickly pulled out a gun that was resting in her waistband. She shot Justin Bieber. Louis flinched at the sound of the gunshot. Bieber hit the ground, 100% dead. Blaze and Louis looked at his body for about a minute in silence.
“Shit. I’m sorry, Justin. I overreacted,” Blaze said to his corpse.
“Whatever. Let’s shave his head and sell his hair on eBay.” said Louis.
