The chromosomes of the Jihad Party Boys go back to a very ancient time. They are caught in the throws of evolution where those who wear shawls with tassels and tie wooden boxes to their head are at a evolutionary dead-end. They are compelled, nay, driven with hormonal rage to act out this ancient primeval hunt.
At the height of the rain, when in their primitive rain forest they first ventured out to find something to fill their empty bellies in the dead of winter they throw off their blankets, the wooden boxes already shattered from their heads. In a massive rush, they throw themselves at the bunker's gate. Some can't wait for it to open, they vault over and begin their frantic search for the precious eggs left my the minions of Mean Queen.
When they find one of the eggs, they immediately break them open and consume the sticky contents, leaving the shells on the ground in search of more. They have until the storm overhead is no more. Once the clouds pass, they must return to the bunker, empty or full to wait out the remainder of the winter. Some Jihad Party Boys will die of starvation before winter's end, many eggs will be found and consumed but some eggs will go unfound. Those eggs, if left undisturbed could become another Jihad Party Boy. Hatched with their first pair of cheap black pants, they begin to search out for other Jihads. And once they form a group begin to build a bunker and wait for an egg laying mean Queen and Daddy.
Drag Queen has seen it all before and is willing to satisfy the lust of Jihadist Party Boys. She knows that eventually, possibly even with the advance pace of global warming, the days of the Jihad Party Boys are numbered. But until then, she will dance the Dance of the Seven Butt Flossers. She will gyrate her big fat ass and shake her tiny tits to the beat of eunuch's enchanted flute.
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