Chapter Thirty Six. That Time of Month

That Time of Month

"The feelings a person has change, based on gender."

When Derby awoke from his long sleep, he found himself immersed in contemplation.

"I haven't talked to Barbie in forever! I hope she's well. And her mother, my gosh, my Pammie Poo, are they doing ok? I'm sure they're worried sick without hearing from me."

His thoughts were with his family at home but he noticed the texture of the feelings were different than when he would have these same thoughts, as a man.

"Hopefully it is warming up back home and the outside kittie is doing ok. Oh, the outside kittie!"

And with that thought, Derby found him/her self unable to control the emotions that overpowered her/his crying control center, and the dam broke. Once again, like a hormonal teenage girl, Derby was sobbing out loud, an emotional wreck.

From the thought of the poor defenseless outside kittie cat, his mind flashed to his favorite contestant on The Biggest Loser. "Oh, will Arthur go home? I know they think he's a villain since he broke up the teams, but he needs to be there!"


More tears. More out loud sobbing. 


It wasn't gas. He was sure of that. But something was stirring. He felt as if some pressure, a subtle pressure was causing some discomfort. Did he have to use the restroom? No, not that, exactly.


He decided to examine whatever he had going on downstairs. With that he took a peek.


"Nothing seems too out of place," he said to himself as he stared at his newly remodeled pubic area.


"Sure do miss that mighty dragon!," he joked to himself as he pulled his pretty pantaloons down further to reveal more of what was happening between his legs.


"My God I'm spotting!," he said to himself. "I guess the good news is that I'm not pregnant!"


He looked around his bedroom chamber to see what kind of material was available to forestall this new malady.


"Fucking A," he said to himself in his most familiar internal chatter. "I'm going to have a period. These folks really know how to throw a freak show. Jesus Christ."


There was a tissue like piece of muslin cloth near his couch that Derby was able to tear and roll up into a kind of pad. Never once doing anything remotely similar, he wedged the homespun feminine hygiene "sponge" securely into his private parts, pulled his dainty cute size zero pantaloons back in position and laid back down in his Persian lounge.


"Cramping sucks," he said to himself. "Where's a Midol when you need one?" he wondered, remembering the brand, either from TV ads or from living with women, he wasn't sure which.


His discomfort was compounded when he felt his chamber rocking from the thumping stomp of the approaching monster. Instead of the "Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum," which seemed in order it was, a cheerful greeting:


"Good morning Princess! How's my little darling doing today?," said Umpa, without one hint of sarcasm to the tone of his thunderous voice.


"Not worth a shit," replied Miss Derby angrily. "I don't find this crap amusing anymore. Are we ever going to proceed and let me learn about why I'm really here or so I can meet the people on my book deal? Or are you the head a huge prostitution ring and I'm about to become your biggest money maker?!"


"Now now Derby. Don't be so dramatic," warned Umpa soothingly. "You'll soon have experienced those body sensations of our beloved sisterhood and we'll bring you back to this side of the universe."


"I'm having my period ass-hole. I'm not well and your breath stinks!," yelled Derby who thought he could also smell urine from the monster's underwear. "Do you mind speaking into the vase without blowing your foul wind in my general direction?"


"Looks like someone got up on the wrong side of the sofa this morning," said Umpa. And then Derby heard the thump, thump, thumping of the big Buddha walking away.


"Wait!," yelled Derby desperately. "Don't go! I'll behave! Please, don't leave me!"


But no more bad breath came blowing down the tube. There was nothing left to do but cry and cry some more.