Cherry Pop

Let me ask you something.

Do you know what

a dream actually is?

How about a memory?

I'm actually asking you.

Anybody?

Well, I once heard that memory

is about dreams from our past,

and dreams are about

memories from our future.

I guess it makes sense,

both dreams and memories

are somewhat shapeless

and hard to define.

Confused?

Okay,

this is my memory

about a dream I once had.

A dream to perform,

in my own way,

and as long as I got to do that,

nothing else

really mattered at the time.

You see,

when I arrived that night,

and yes, this is the memory,

I was scared shitless.

I was about to follow a dream,

but in doing so,

I was getting way more

than I bargained for.

B*tch.

No, no, no, no,

no, let me tell you something.

I know that motherf***er

around here somewhere,

because I tell you what,

I got that track his ass app

he was telling me about.

Talking about he

going to get some milk.

-Who take two - -?

-Excuse me?

Excuse you.

What the f***?

I'm sorry,

I'm just trying to get to - -.

No, what you're trying

is my mother f***ing patience.

What are you,

sneaking around here.

You the FBI?

The NSA?

-The CIA?

-Okay.

BLT?

-BET?

-I'm sorry.

B*tch please. Hello, girl..

Hi.

You here for the show?

Yeah, yeah,

I'm here for the show.

ID.

Right, sorry.

Here you go.

I'm actually in the show.

You sure you're not lost?

This is the Cherry Pop, right?

Go on then.

Dressing room's in the back.

Great, thanks.

Don't make eye contact with him.

F***ing queers.

But in doing so, I was getting

way more than I bargained for.

F***ing lights.

Cherry Pop wasn't exactly

the place to be at the time.

But I was prepped and ready.

Nothing was gonna

stand in my way.

I wanted to be on that stage.

Looks like Dorothy got lost.

That's tonight's cherry.

-He's the cherry?

-Hey, you got here.

He's the cherry?

I'm Michael, the night manager.

Right.

Were you running late

or something?

No, why?

Nothing.

You know where

the dressing room is?

Yeah, back there, right?

Yeah,

the show starts in about 20,

but you got

a while till you're up.

So take your time.

Okay great.

You nervous?

Yep, a little.

But I, I've been warming up

the vocal chords all day.

For the after party?

No, for the singing.

Honey, there's no singing, just

move your lips to the words.

I, I understand, but,

I told the day manager

that I'm actually singing.

He said it was fine.

Well, I don't.

Meet Michael.

His dreams never came true.

And I'm pretty sure

he didn't want anyone else's

to come true neither.

And it's night now and not

day, so what I say goes.

-Yeah, yeah, but you...

-Listen,

I got to get back to work.

But if you need anything,

let me know.

-Yeah, but it's a big part of...

-Break a heel.

Just to clarify for all of you

who might be

a little confused right now.

I was a normal guy

with a normal life

that I was lucky enough

to share with an amazing person.

So, why didn't I just leave

when I was told

I couldn't sing as promised?

Well, the answer is that

singing was only

a part of the performance.

I had this dream, I wanted

to have the experience

of giving others an experience.

But finding the stage

to kickstart your dreams on

is not an easy task.

And that is how

I ended up at Cherry Pop .

You see, Cherry Pop

wasn't your normal dive bar

with an open mic.

It was a drag club.

Taken.

Taken two,

the sequel, honey.

I'm not really sure

what I had expected.

You can't sit here.

But feeling like it was my

first day of school was not it.

Anyway, let's start

with the queen of queens.

Zaza.

Girl.

Get your ass out here.

Zaza.

My Marcello.

What am I supposed

to do without you?

If only you could see

what's become of this place,

of me.

How am I supposed to follow such

talentless drool

without you?

What's the point when the only

good thing about this shithole

went away with your last breath.

You left me.

Helpless.

Hopeless.

Worthless.

Powerless.

Senseless,

defenseless.

Motionless.

Emotionless.

Zaza.

They say Zaza had the potential

to be the biggest drag queen

the world had ever seen.

Not only because she broke

seven feet in heels,

but because her

performance as the first cherry

was supposed to be the greatest

drag number of all time.

Garnering a three-hour standing

ovation that was just ending

by the time she reached home.

But it never would have happened

without her long-time muse,

lover and collaborator Marcello.

He was her Mona Lisa.

Her inspiration.

And when he died

shortly before my arrival,

she lost all reason to tuck.

She handled it quite well.

Hey, hon.

I'm Ariela, did you want a seat?

Yes.

Thank you.

So, you're our cherry tonight?

Yeah.

Laundry day?

What? No.

Why? W - - why?

Never mind.

Okay, hey,

they always this warm?

Only to the cherry.

Don't worry about

Skid Row over there.

Some sort of

friendly hazing, or...?

No, this is just

them being friendly.

Everybody goes through it.

So, how long does it last?

As long as you do.

And then if you

survive the night,

you get to come back

and join us again.

I was the last cherry

to make it.

-How long ago was that?

-A few months ago.

That's high standards for

such a fine establishment.

I mean, sorry.

This gig isn't what

it was supposed to be,

so I'm not sure

if I'll be back anyway.

Because you think this

is where we want to be?

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