I walk out onto the stage of the Aloha Ballroom on the Fiesta Deck, wearing my tuxedo t-shirt and a obnoxiously bright floral-print miniskirt along with my striped Beetlejuice stockings and battered Chuck Taylors. I gesture with my mic at the handful of early afternoon drinkers, most of whom are watching the footage of the various fights going on around the decks of the ship shown on TVs around the Aloha Ballroom's walls, like basketball games at a sports bar.
"Afternoon, ladles and gentlespoons. My name's Punky, the Hardcore Harlequin, the Chair-Swingin' Chuckle Queen. I'm here to make you laugh or kill you trying.
I tell ya, I think I watch too much wrestling.
The other night, this girl I was with said she wanted it dirty - so I thumbed her in the eye and then decked her with a roll of quarters I pulled out of my panties. She hasn't called back yet, but I'm lookin' forward to the rematch.
I mean, I MIGHT watch too much wrestling - I saw a young painter up on a ladder touching up the trim on a building downtown, and I started shouting 'GO ON, KID! MAKE A NAME FOR YOURSELF!'.
My parents dragged me to Mass and I started shouting "WHAT?!" between the homilies.
I went to the doctor and she told me to get undressed and change into a patient gown, so I ripped my shirt down the center and demanded to know what she was gonna do. She told me she was gonna give me a pap smear. I told her I had two words for her. It went downhill from there."
