To Emperor Norton, Thanks For Everything! Love, Georgianna.

by Mike Mayak

“This wig just smells!”

Georgianna Mount Sutro shook the blonde wig she was holding at arms length as if she was afraid something would fall on her gold sequined dress. She considered tossing it in the street as the trolley rolled up the hill in the early-morning fog.

“It’s moldy, Honey, that’s the problem,” said Miss Windy Weather. Miss Windy was sitting beside her in an outfit festooned with veils which were in danger of blowing away.

“Ugh!” Georgianna said. “Perfect for Halloween if that wasn’t months away.”

“Girl, for us every night is Halloween.” Miss Windy said.

“Too bad we don’t get treats,” Georgianna said and they both laughed.

“You can keep that thing ‘till Halloween.” Miss Windy said. “By which time it should all be one big lump of green mold.”

“Not on my head, girl!” Georgianna said. “After last night maybe I can afford to have it cleaned.”

Georgianna and Miss Windy were Licensed Professional Dragsters of the City Of San Francisco, Bay District, Nation of Nortonia.

“License signed by Emperor Norton the Ninth, thank-you-very-much!” Miss Windy would say.

“When’s the last time we got big checks for one of those all-night gigs?” Georgianna asked.

“Listen, Girl, these days we better be glad we got any job.” Miss Windy said. “Look over there.”

She pointed at the Pyramid Building. It was deserted. It wasn’t the only one.

“Remember that young comic the other night?” Georgianna said. “Remember his line? ‘I got a bumper sticker that reads: The Underground Economy Is Thriving, That’s Where I made This Sticker. It was on my car I had to sell.’”

The girls laughed again.

“Oooooooh! Wait a minute!” Miss Windy said. “I gotta check my messages!”

She pulled off her wig and rubbed the spot above her ear where the implant was. She always said it helped with reception.

“Gimmie a minute…Ooooooh! We got a gig!” Miss Windy said.

“Does it include a long nap beforehand?” Georgianna asked, faking a yawn.

“Tomorrow night at the Emperor Norton Ballroom at the Harding-Palace Hotel!”

“Good. I can rest up.” Georgianna said.

“Rest up to count the money!” Miss Windy said. “Somebody on the Emperor’s staff saw us at the club and he wants both of us to perform for five hundred dollars!”

“Apiece?” Georgianna asked, wide awake now.

“Who cares!” Miss Windy said. “We have friends in high places! Bless you Emperor Norton!”

“Bless you!”

They blew a kiss to the city as the trolley started back down the hill.

—end—

AUTHOR’S NOTE: The draws for the November 2025 Flash Fiction Draw Challenge were: A Cyberpunk story, set on a trolley involving a moldy wig. (I had to look up “cyberpunk,” and I’m the guy who made up the list!) I’m aware that in San Francisco they don’t call them “trolleys,” but hey! It’s a dystopia.

And Emperor Norton was a real person way back when, but never a real Emperor. Look him up! Fascinating story! And there is an “Emperor Norton Room” at the Sheraton-Palace Hotel in San Francisco. ——-mike