"Look, I know you're a super secret agent or whatever, but I can't take you seriously in all that clown make up."

Word count: 506

'Excuse you!' I snapped.

'Makeup is supposed to heighten your features not work as a plastic surgeon.'

I scoffed. 'I will fucking shoot you.' Pressing the gun against his sweating brow. I am fabulous, a fabulous killer queen. I will not be disrespected by some mere thief. Despite knowing better I glanced over at the long mirror against my bedroom wall. Took in my wavy pink hair that ran down my shoulders to sit perfectly at my lower back. The winged liner, the rosy cheeks, my contour, I was a force to be reckoned with. And with my blood boiling, I glared back at the man who looked like he'd just rolled out of bed and decided -

"I MiGhT jUsT dO a LiFe Of CrImE."

With nothing more than a Kathmandu jacket and sweatpants. Absolutely unprofessional and an insult to my craft!

Really?

Really?!

I'm the clown when compared to this piece of trash?

'I look amazing. You'll look amazing with your brain splattered all on these walls.' I said.

The man was frustratingly unfazed. 'I'm not going to be intimidated by a man playing dress-up.'

'I'm called a dragqueen hunty.'

'You're a disgrace to mankind.'

'BALONEY!' I shouted. 'Who cut your hair a blind donkey? And what you can't afford a pair of pants without holes in them? Did you really expect to get away with this? Bitch you have no idea what I'm capable-,'

'Just like a woman, you talk too much. If you're going to kill me. Just do it.'

'Oh, I will.' I threw my head back laughing maniacally. 'I will take great pleasure in it.'

'Then what are you waiting for? More permission? Take whatever is left of your manhood and slay me with it.'

'Oh bitch I slay, I slay every night and every other fucking night. You just happened to be the sucker trying to steal from an assassin.' Instead of quaking in fear which was the response I usually got when de-dragged, his eyes soaked up the mini skirt and the fishnets and ruby red rhinestone pumps, face going red from holding in the most insulting, disgusting laugh I have ever heard in my life. Everything about this man is disgusting, he smells like urine and his skin looks as greasy as a fried chicken leg.

His laughter erupted this dark feeling within me that I had never felt before. All the name-calling, the death threats, the style choices - the audacity! The rage in my blood sang to me but there was something else. Something, I only felt at 3 am when I'm alone and eating fried noodles in bed.

Am I-? No. It's not come down to this. But here I am, and here he is. He locked his pretty-boy blue eyes with mine and I knew he felt it too. The air changed in the room.

'I need to schedule a session with my therapist.' I said before we tore off our clothes and wrestled each other in my bed. 'No, I'm on top.'